Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and all these other people are characters belonging to J.K. Rowling. I claim no rights to them, their surroundings, or their situations. Much to my sorrow.

--- 15 Hagrid: Into the Heart of an Enemy

He had found a small room in the attic, where he could stay safely out of everyone's way until needed, and had cleared some of the old neglected furniture of its protective sheets. It was too small for his heavy frame, really, but as long as he took some care it oughtn't to come to any harm.

He didn't mind the little dust-bunnies that peeked from beneath the furniture and gamboled playfully about his feet; and the small, quite ordinary spiders that hung in the corners, or scuttled away in the shadows, reminded him of an old friend.

Here Hagrid sat, with his faithful Fang curled up on one of the still-sheeted davenports, and brewed a solitary pot of tea. He could have gone down to the kitchen, but with such a crowd about, he knew he'd just be a nuisance to everyone. Even in the roomy corridors of the old school--even back in his days as a student, before he'd grown to his adult height and girth--his size had made him feel clumsy and oafish.

It was something he'd learned to live with. At least at Hogwarts, he'd been no more than one of dozens of oddities that wandered the halls and roamed the grounds. Out in the Muggle world, why, he'd have been treated as a freak of the highest order; probably wouldn't have lasted a fortnight.

Albus Dumbledore had gone to great lengths to save him from that, after he and the spider Aragog had been framed for the first opening of the Chamber of Secrets. Forced to take away his wand and his future as a real magus with one hand, the Professor had turned right around and given him a home and a purpose with the other.

A humble purpose, but it had been enough for Hagrid. His loyalty to the Headmaster was of little enough value in the wide world, but it was absolute, and gladly given.

He'd been happy at Hogwarts, caring for his creatures, and watching the bright little faces of the youngsters pass by his small hut each day. He'd seen them grow up, year after year, and been pleased to know he'd had some small part in making them the fine witches and wizards they became.

Now the school was gone, partly by his own hand. He knew he wasn't the only one to mourn, but he doubted anyone else, even Professor Dumbledore, really understood the magnitude of the loss.

Hogwarts had housed much more than the students, teachers, House-Elves and ghosts that everyone knew about. Scarcely a nook or cranny in the enormous building hadn't been home to some tiny creature, or family of creatures, far too many to bring along (even if it had been allowed.) He'd warned as many of them as he could, and hoped that all had made it to safety before the fires destroyed the place. But now they had no place to live.

As he sat sipping his tea and mournfully contemplating these things, there came a gentle rap at the door. "Righ', jus' give us a sec," he sighed, setting down his teacup and getting up to answer.

"Hullo, wha' can I--" He stopped in mid-sentence, his bushy eyebrows threatening to fly off his face at the sight that greeted him.

Draco Malfoy stood in the hall outside, and a right sorry mess he looked, all rumpled and bandaged up with only his trousers and stockings on. He looked downright miserable, but his eyes widened with alarm and he took a quick step back from the door as he registered who had opened it. "Hagrid. S-sorry, I didn't know it was you..."

The half-giant furrowed his brow and stared the Slytherin youth down a bit uncertainly. His first impulse was to order the young ruffian off. Biggest troublemaker in the school, he was, and Hagrid had personally suffered both for the child's cocksure carelessness and his hereditary Malfoy nastiness.

But to his own surprise, he found himself asking only a little gruffly, "Smelt the tea, did yeh?" The youngster was shivering, and no wonder, walking around without his shirt on. The magical means by which the main sections of the safe-house were heated didn't come as far as the attic, which troubled Hagrid not at all, but Draco was obviously feeling it.

The Slytherin nodded cautiously. "Look, I didn't mean to bother you. I'll just move on." He seemed only too sincere. That was something that couldn't often be said of a Malfoy.

He started to turn away, but Hagrid reached out on impulse and dropped a massive hand onto his shoulder. Draco froze in place, and Hagrid could feel the boy's entire skinny frame trembling. It occurred to the gamekeeper that the youngster had no place on him to stow a wand; he must have left it downstairs.

"Now, don' go runnin' off. I don' bite." Not tha' yeh'd know it by the stories yeh told tha' Skeeter woman, he thought a bit resentfully; but Hagrid rarely held a grudge for long, especially against a child, and that had been some time ago.

"Why don' yeh come on inside an' have a cuppa, get warmed up? Yeh'll catch yer death, wanderin' aroun' this place 'alf-dressed," he said, in the same gentle tone he'd use with any spooked, potentially dangerous young animal he came across.

Young Malfoy turned his head and looked up at him, those strange silvery eyes wide with apprehension. "I--all right." He swallowed hard, but made a fair attempt to pull himself together and walked past the half-giant into the room.

Blimey, Hagrid thought in growing wonder, the lad really is scairt o' me. Fancy tha'. He shook his head and followed Draco inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. "Down, Fang," he said firmly. The enormous boarhound hadn't decided whether or not to bark at the visitor, anyway, and rested his head on his paws with a whuff of resignation.

Going to the large sack he'd brought with him, which contained necessities and his few irreplaceable possessions--he'd left a good bit behind; it was only stuff, really, easy enough to replace--he drew out a heavy woolen blanket and tossed it to the young man. "There, wrap up in tha'.

"Dunno wha' yeh thought yeh were doin', traipsin' aroun' like tha' in the dead o' winter..." he grumbled as he dug out another teacup and saucer and poured a cup for his latest foundling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy sniff surreptitiously at the blanket and wrinkle his nose. Malfoys. Then again, most likely it did smell a bit of wet Fang. He'd used it to dry the dog off last time he'd got caught out in the rain. Draco huddled into it willingly enough, however.

Yer head's as soft as yer heart, Hagrid, he scolded himself as he set the cup down in front of the youngster. Slytherins aren' to be trusted, an' Malfoys less than mos' Slytherins, yeh know tha'!

"Th-thanks." The boy picked up the cup and sipped at it tentatively, his grey eyes never leaving his host. Hagrid sat down across from him, taking some care as the small sofa groaned ominously under his weight.

An awkward silence fell as they drank their tea. When he couldn't take the weight of it any longer, Hagrid cleared his throat, causing Draco to jump and his teacup to rattle loudly against its saucer.

"Sorry 'bout tha'," Hagrid said bemusedly. So this is wha' the mighty Malfoy Heir is like, withou' a wand or a pack o' other snakes about ter hide behin'. "Yeh look like yeh took a bit o' a clobberin' this mornin'," he noted, carefully keep his tone casual. He had a feeling the boy would bolt if spooked too badly, and for whatever reason, he found he didn't want that to happen.

"I'm told I got caught in the fireworks. I don't remember the incident very clearly." Draco went on watching him fixedly over the rim of his teacup. His shivering had eased off a bit, but the underlying tension had not.

Hagrid wasn't sure whether to be pleased or sad to learn that he inspired such paranoia. "Oh, well then, I'd say yer lucky yeh got off with nuthin' but a few burns," he said offhandedly. "Bloody dangerous business, fireworks. Them Weasley twins're like to blow themselves sky-high one o' these days, mark my words. If their mum doesn' finish 'em both off first."

This had exactly the effect Hagrid had hoped; Draco snickered nervously and relaxed, just a little. The gamekeeper went on, "Right sorry ter hear abou' Professor Snape's accident, by the by. There been any word from St. Mungo's?"

Malfoy shook his head, the flicker of amusement fading. "No. At least not at the time I left the ball room."

"Aye, well," Hagrid said quietly. "'e's a fine brave man, yer Professor, I shouldn' worry too much abou' him. Got through worse in 'is time, he has."

The young man carefully set his tea cup down and regarded Hagrid thoughtfully, still nervous, but growing less so by the moment. "Yes, so I've often been told. I admire Professor Snape." He hesitated. "But I must say I'm a bit surprised to hear that you do, Hagrid."

The half-giant smiled knowingly. "Tha' so? Well, young Malfoy, there's a lot goes on aroun' here tha' might surprise yeh, if yeh were ter take a minute an' look past the end o' yer nose."

Draco blinked, and bit back an indignant reply. "I'm...beginning to realise that," he admitted slowly, dropping his gaze for the first time.

"Aye, I reckon yeh are, or yeh wouldn' be here, still. Can't be easy fer yeh, I expect, wit' yer mum an' da bein' who they are an' all." Hagrid hoped he wasn't overstepping his bounds, but so far the conversation seemed to be going remarkably well. He refilled the boy's cup. "But yeh made the righ' choice, lad. Yeh do know tha'?"

Draco picked up the teacup, but Hagrid noted with concern that his hands were trembling slightly again. He seemed to be having some trouble coming up with an answer. "I--I think so. I keep telling myself I did." He bit his lip and drew a deep breath, shutting his eyes. "It's good to hear someone else say it..."

Bloody hell! Went an' struck a nerve yeh did, Hagrid, yeh great ruddy clod. Bringin' up the lad's parents, an' his da' in Azkaban Prison an' all, tha' was plain stupid, the gamekeeper told himself unhappily. He got up and rummaged through the large sack until he found a tolerably clean handkerchief, which he silently offered to the young Slytherin.

Draco accepted it and blotted at his eyes irritably.

"I can't believe this," he muttered savagely. "Hogwarts in ashes, my House is on the brink of extermination, and I'm sitting here drinking tea with the gamekeeper and bloody well falling apart..."

"'ere now, wot's tha'?" Hagrid frowned, letting the implied insult in the boy's statement slide. "Yer House? It's no' so bad as all tha', lad. It migh' take some time, but once the school's rebuilt an' the new First Years arrive--"

"No, you don't understand!" Draco turned and looked up at him with something very like despair in his eyes. "Hagrid, think about it. There are rivalries all around, but Slytherin is the only House that's universally hated. The Dark Lord came from our ranks, and so have nearly all the Death Eaters."

He clenched his fists in frustration, spitting out the words with a bitter, painful honesty that went straight to Hagrid's great heart. "I--I came back to Hogwarts because I knew my father was wrong. The Dark Lord is wrong, and I don't want to be like them. The others here feel the same, they must! Or they would have gone over with the rest. Make no mistake, if Dumbledore loses this war, we'll be next in line after him and Potter to face You-Know-Who's displeasure, and we all know it."

He jumped up and began to pace the room. Fang made a disgruntled sound, but Hagrid shushed him, wanting to let the young wizard's tirade play itself out. He'd been holding this in for some time, by the sound of it.

"But with so few of us left, and Professor Snape not here to speak for us, do you think the other Houses are going to waste the opportunity to get rid of Slytherin once and for all? I mean, honestly--all noble pretensions aside. There's idealism and then there's practicality. I know what I'd do if I were in their position."

Hagrid's frown deepened as he took this in. The workings of his mind weren't well suited to politics, but he could see the young man's logic. Hatred for Slytherin ran deep in the other Houses, Gryffindor in particular. And not just among the students, either.

But this was something else that Hagrid felt he'd always understood, where many others did not. Hogwarts had been founded on ideals of friendship and acceptance, not hatred. It was because Albus Dumbledore held fast to that notion that outcasts like himself could find a home there. And for all the trouble that had come out of Slytherin in the past fifty years--trouble that had touched him personally, among countless others--he knew that the Serpent House had managed to co-exist with the other three for centuries before that.

What kind of foundation would they be laying for the new school, if they began by striking down such a basic underpinning of the old?

"Well, now," he said slowly, "It jus' so happens you're not a Gryffindor, nor a Hufflepuff, nor a Ravenclaw. So don' go jumpin' to conclusions abou' tha'. But what's Professor Dumbledore got to say abou' all this?"

"I don't know. I haven't spoken with him about it yet." Draco blew his nose gustily, and Hagrid barely stopped himself grinning. He'd met Narcissa Malfoy, and she would have fainted dead away to hear her perfect son make such a vulgar sound.

Coming to a decision, he walked over and clapped the young Slytherin very gently on the back, nearly jarring him off his feet all the same. "Then wha' say you an' I go down an' discuss it with 'im, Draco?"

The boy looked around at him with a bewildered expression, still snuffling a bit. "Excuse me?"

"Well, yeh heard me. I don' hold with pickin' on folks just 'cause they're down, an' neither does Professor Dumbledore, I guarantee yeh. Bloody unfair, I call it. So let's go ge' this business straightened ou' before Professor Snape gets back an' busts a cauldron over it." He chuckled as he walked to the door and opened it, gesturing for Draco to precede him.

Draco did so, still bundled up in the heavy blanket, and looking positively flummoxed.

"You stay 'ere, Fang. I'll be back in a bit." The hound gave him a soulful glance, but obediently stayed put.

On the walk to the stairs, Hagrid's great long strides soon put him well ahead of the young Slytherin; he caught himself quickly and adjusted his pace to compensate.

As Draco came up behind the half-giant, he said in a very small voice, "H-Hagrid?"

"Aye?" the gamekeeper replied calmly.

A deep intake of breath. "Listen...a-about the Hippogriff. And the woman from the newspaper..."

Hagrid smiled to himself and slowed further, letting the young man catch him up. "Ah, don' think on it, lad. Water unner the bridge. It all came ou' in the wash."

That earned him a frankly puzzled look. "Look, I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I really don't understand. I caused you no end of trouble, and you're trying to help me anyway." He bit his lip, and with some effort added, "At least let me apologise."

Bet tha' one stuck in his craw...once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin, Hagrid thought, hiding his smile. An' a Slytherin never forgets a debt.

So he tried to put the matter in more Slytherin terms. "Aye, well, tha's true enough. I'll tell yeh wha' then, if yeh still feel bad abou' it, then let's do a deal. Yeh apologise to Hermione for callin' her nasty names, an' stop givin' Ron reasons to try an' slugify yeh." He thought about bringing Harry's name into it, but decided not to push his luck. "An' then we'll just forget about all tha' an' call it even. A'right?"

Draco thought on it for a moment, then looked up at him with the beginnings of a tentative smile. "You drive a hard bargain, Hagrid. But I accept."

"Righ' then, shake on it!" Hagrid solemnly stuck out his hand, and young Malfoy extended his own, looking faintly alarmed as it was completely engulfed in the handclasp.

"'Bout bloody time yeh grew some common sense," the gamekeeper muttered under his breath as they moved on.

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