Fidelitas

Chapter Two

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Draco watched as his Head of House exited the hospital wing. He noticed the resignation in his posture and the despair evident in his downcast face. He watched and then looked away.

Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin house, was a spy for Dumbledore.

Had been a spy of Dumbledore, Draco corrected himself. After the previous night, he would never be able to return to the Dark Lord, not unless he didn't wish to come back alive. It was the end of Snape's spying for sure. And without their spy, what of the Resistance? They were evidently in disarray, everyone knew that, and the reports in The Daily Prophet confirmed everybody's fears - Lord Voldemort was winning. With Dumbledore incapacitated, soon the remainder of the Resistance would fall and then . . .

'What exactly are you doing here Mister Malfoy?'

Draco looked up to find Professor Snape looming over him, looking distinctly annoyed at having discovered his student concealed behind the suit of armor. Draco stood up, and found that he reached only up to Snape's shoulders. Despite his recent growth spurts, Draco, at 17, was no match for the Professor's height.

'Good morning, Professor.'

'Answer the question Mister Malfoy . . . why are you not on the train with the others?'

'I needed to speak with you, sir.'

'Indeed?'

Draco looked around him, unsure whether or not to continue.

Snape sighed. 'Come to my office, Mister Malfoy. You have chosen a most inopportune time to make a hindrance of yourself.' With a swirl of black robes he turned and made his way towards the dungeons, leaving Draco hurrying to keep up.

They walked, or half-ran in Draco's case, through the labyrinthine dungeons. Soon they arrived at a nondescript wooden door, completely unremarkable except for the fact that it had no door knob. Snape took out his wand, pointed it at the door, muttered something and quite slowly the door creaked open.

Draco had been in Snape's office before. Jars of mysterious potions ingredients decorated the shelves, and there was a pile of essays on the desk, all marked in Snape's distinctive handwriting. Draco could see the two paragraph long commentary on the top essay, enumerating various colorful methods in which the author may choose to end his life so that unsuspecting people would not be subjected to his inane blathering on the subject of Potions.

'I am waiting Mister Malfoy . . .'

Draco took the chair across Snape's desk.

'A month ago, sir, I went to visit my father. At Azkaban...' He shuddered involuntarily as he remembered the Dementors. 'He informed me of certain . . . plans that he had . . . about my future.'

He looked up to see Snape looking at him intently.

'Mister Malfoy, what exactly are you saying? And why, pray tell, are you saying it to me?'

Draco smiled wryly to himself. 'My . . . father asked me to talk to you. He said that it was better for me to hear it from you. Of the various benefits that I would be privy to. That you had been recruited right out of Hogwarts as well.'

'Draco, I realize you are not as stupid as to not have realized that I am on the side of Light. After yesterday night it is more than evident. Yet you are informing me that you are planning on becoming a Death Eater. You realize I could have you arrested right now?'

'I know you won't, sir.'

'I was a Death Eater; does that not make me capable of everything?'

Draco smiled again. He looked down at his hands, pale and perfect in his lap, then looked up at his professor. 'Do you realize sir, that I have known you for seven years? That I have watched you perhaps every day of my stay here at Hogwarts? I know you saved Potter in our first year here, yet it's no secret that you loathe him. You work for the Light side, even though the Dark is evidently winning. And you saved Dumbledore yesterday, although you could have let him die, and rejoined the Dark Lord. Not all Death Eaters are capable of that . . .'

'What are you asking me to do, Draco?'

'Tell me. Tell me what it's all about. Tell me whether it's worth it. Tell me whether I should. Tell me whether you want me to. . .'

'You're asking me to tell you whether it's worthwhile to become a Death Eater?' Snape asked incredulously.

'No sir. I am asking you whether it's worthwhile to become a spy for the Light side.'

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