(A/N: Thanks you guys. You're all so very nice to me and I thank you. As a reminder, this story is going to be incredibly long. I don't know exactly how long, but you can bet your bottom dollar that it won't be under 30 chapters. Or thereabouts, anyway. I'm actually writing this as I go along so the length of time between updates all depends on what I have going on that week and how much time I get to myself so I can sit down and write without interruption. This, at the moment, is not a lot, sadly. Oh what I wouldn't give for just two hours to myself. But whatever. Here's chapter 16. And …

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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Draco gulped and looked up ad down the corridor, looking to see if anyone else was hanging around. Seeing no one, he turned on his heel and scuttled along the corridor, following the steps the Professor had taken just a few moments ago.

His own Godfather, who also happened to be head of Slytherin, wouldn't take points off his house for no good reason. And provoking a Gryffindor was not a good reason. Not by any means. So what was going on with him? Draco mulled this all over and over in his head as he walked down to the Potions classroom.

After finally catching up with the maddened professor, he half ran, half strutted along behind him and took a minute outside the office to calm down and set his face into the respectful sneer he wore when speaking to his godfather.

"Sit." The older man said with a tone of formality as he leaned back in his chair and drew out his wand. Draco gulped visibly and sat.

"Now." He paused and reached into a drawer. After searching for a minute, he pulled out a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewisky and a glass. "What happened in the corridor earlier with Mr Weasley and yourself? I want the full story please, boy." He finished and began pouring a generous amount of the warm liquid in the bottle into the glass, where it fizzed slightly. The smell alone was enough to make you dizzy and light-headed.

"Why, whatever are you talking about, Severus." It was more of a statement than a question, and he too leaned back in his chair, imitating the older man unintentionally.

"I'm not blind, Mr Malfoy. It doesn't take a man with a potions master to work out that Mr Weasley was angry because of something you said or did. Loathe as I am to admit it, he is not the sort of boy to spit feathers at the first person he meets. This leads me to the conclusion that you said something to him. And being that he is disgustingly loyal, it was probably about one of his … friends."

He paused to gauge Malfoy reaction reaction. Nothing. "You have insulted and attempted hurting Mr Potter on several occasions before, and nothing you did to him managed to get quite the reaction you received from Mr Weasley this time around. And as you are currently sharing quarters with Miss Granger, this leads me to assume it is something to do with her."

He paused again. Not even a flicker of the eye. During this speech, Malfoy sat unperturbed throughout and towards the end, actually started examining his nails.

This angered the older man, but he clenched his fists and took a deep breath It would not do to curse the insolent young boy for his rudeness with faced with authority. Even if that authority happened to be somewhat related to him by title.

After a minute of silently calming himself down by imagining the simmering potion he had been brewing for a fortnight, which would finally be completed that night, he sat upright and rested his elbows on the desk, tenting his fingers in a pose much reflecting that of a character called Mr Burns – from a program he had once seen in the window of a muggle shop, filled with boxes which seemed to contain pictures of some sort – he took a final deep breath and looked away from the portrait of the Slytherin Snake he had been staring at for the last couple of minutes as these thoughts ran through his mind.

"So, Mr Malfoy, tell me. What did you say or do to the Head Girl of this school."

"What do you mean, 'What did I do to her'? If anything, you should be asking what she did to me." He answered, his eyes widening in a look of mock innocence and wonder.

"What are you talking about, child?" Snape sneered as he said the last word. Malfoy hated to be called a child, and always had done from the age of eleven. Even though technically, he was still one.

"You see, sir, I didn't do anything to her. She attacked me, and it was completely unprovoked." His eyes grew wider as he lied through his teeth to his godfather.

"Oh really. Well, we shall just have to see about that." And with that, he pulled out a roll of parchment and scribbled a quick note on it. As soon as this was done, he rolled it up and sealed it with a quick tap of his wand, then called a brown owl, which had been sitting on a perch near the door, over and gave him the note.

"Take this to a Miss Hermione Granger."