Draco Malfoy and the Last Year

Level 2.5: The Snack Box

By Monday morning, Daphne and Indigo had forgiven Draco. This did not surprise him. The Seventh Year Slytherin girls had gotten their feelings hurt from time to time before and had developed a fairly predictable cycle of pouting and recanting. They had tweaked Indigo's hair color into a more natural auburn, though Draco hoped they would eventually take it back to black. Daphne's hair was most definitely red, about the right shade for a Weasley. Draco considered telling her this, but she was still in the part of the cycle where she was particularly nice to make up for having been mad at him. She had even been civil when Blaise decided to break his habit of six years and sit down with them for breakfast.

At the far end of the breakfast table, Persephone was chatting up the Dey children. She had her arm around Thomas's shoulder but was mainly addressing Victoria. Her light and Victoria's darkness seemed to have, rather than clashing, negated each other. The three of them looked almost normal sitting together, which was quite an achievement considering.

The owls swooped down dropping their post and parcels. Draco was not surprised to see another package arrive for Persephone. He was surprised when a large box dropped before his own plate. "What on earth?" He spotted a letter taped to the side of the package and recognized his mother's handwriting on the address. His pulse quickened.

When he had been very small, he had known his parents would always do everything in their power to protect him, because that was what parents did. When he was small, Voldemort had been discussed in past tense, and only Muggles and wicked stepparents in fairytales beat their children. Up to last year, Draco would have been delighted to see any package from his mother. Now the sight of the unmarked box brought to mind horror stories of murderous jack-in-the-boxes, cursed cutlery, and the crude sort of bombs Muggles used to kill each other.

"Pansy!" he snapped. She had been starting to play her fingers along the edge of the package. She pulled them back and looked at him curiously. "It's my package," he explained lamely.

"Alright," she said, deciding not to take offense, and eyed the letter. "She forgiven you yet?"

Draco opened it. It was remarkably short.

~

Draco,

You're really starting to worry me. Why haven't you written? Are you ill, my love? I heard you haven't been eating well. Please keep in mind what I told you in my last letter.

Concerned,

Narcissa Malfoy

~

"Um, sure," he said because Pansy was watching.

"It's really hard to stay mad at you," Daphne said in a show of good will that made his stomach twist.

Normally, he would open packages from his mother immediately and show off the contents. His instincts, right now however, were recommending he drop it in the nearest trash bin unopened. There was no way he would be able to explain this behavior to his peers, so he decided to open it in front of them. At least that way if a venomous tentacula reached out to grab him, Crabbe could fight it off and rush him to the hospital wing.

Draco bit his tongue and tried to avoid outward signs of apprehension as he removed the strings and opened the lid--to find a box filled with all his favorite sweets. His mother often sent him packages of sweets during the school year but rarely with such complete spectrum and quantity--Sugar buns, sugar quills, cherry cordials, blueberry scones (arguably his favorite), raspberry tarts, treacle fudge (which he only pretended to like because Crabbe and Goyle were fond of it), cauldron cakes, a Chocolate frog, and even a bag of Bertie Botts (though she knew he didn't care for them)--arranged in a way only his mother could have managed to make them look particularly appetizing. He wondered if she was trying to apologize...or just poison him.

"Oh wow," Crabbe said, eyeing the contents.

Draco felt a little green. He closed the lid so he would not have to look at the sugary glisten. It was rather awful because he could practically taste the scones even though they were wrapped tight in Everlastic and the lid was shut. He resolved not to put any of it in his mouth. If it was a bribe to keep him quiet about Evra and Voldemort, it was a poor and unnecessary one, and if it was poisoned, well, then he would just feel dumb for eating any.

"Not hungry?" Pansy asked. Draco shook his head. He knew she had been eyeing the cordials. He was usually pretty generous with his sweets from home, preferring the popularity boost to sugary stuffs.

"I gotta stay light if I'm gonna play seeker this year."

"Do you mind if I have some then?" Crabbe asked. Goyle was leaning in as well. Draco started to push it toward him out of habit and then stopped himself, feeling horrified by what he had almost done. Poison did not suddenly become less poisonous because it was ingested by someone other than the intended target...well, most poisons didn't.

"Uh-No, you can't," he sputtered and pulled the box back towards himself, so Crabbe would not be tempted to make a snag at the fudge.

Crabbe looked a little hurt. "How come?"

"Well, it's my package. I can keep it to myself if I want, can't I?" Draco said and put the box in his lap.

"Be fair," Goyle said with a scowl. He was not taking well to this break in custom.

"I am being fair. They're mine," Draco protested. He knew he was coming off like a petulant toddler, but he could hardly explain why he was not sharing. Crabbe looked stunned, and Goyle looked stunned and irritated.

"It's not like you couldn't afford to lay off the sweets, Vincent," Daphne said coolly. "And you too, Gregory. Really, I think it's a wonder you haven't snapped your broom." Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent were now glaring murderously at Daphne. Draco could have kissed her. She played with her plate, looking superior and unconcerned, but the tension was there. Indigo let out a short laugh at the broom comment, and Daphne bit at her too. "Oh, shut up, Stump, and eat your porridge before I shove that whole box of sweets down your throat."

Indigo pouted but grudgingly jabbed her spoon into her porridge.

Pansy decided it was time to intervene. "Daphne, be nice. They're beaters. They've got to have some muscle. Gregory, Vincent, you look just fine," she said diplomatically. "Of course now, boys, the package is Draco's, and he can do as he pleases with it." The way she looked at Draco conveyed a non-verbal sigh. "Indigo, swallow. Hello, Pea."

"Morning." Persephone slipped into the empty seat beside him, her own package in hand. She started to say something, eyed the box in Draco's lap, and said in a voice that was almost casual. "What's that?"

"Sweets from mum," Draco told her, hoping to convey more with his eyes. For a second, her expression went blank and her eyes showed understanding, then she recovered herself and forced a smile.

"Well, that's nice," she said, and the forced smile dropped. "I got my O.W.L. results." She held up the letter. Draco took it from her to look it over.

"What just now?" asked Pansy.

Persephone jumped a little. "Well, I took them late, you see."

"Took them late?"

"Well, they don't have O.W.L.s in Canada," Draco supplied, hoping that was true.

"So, I had to take them, sort of like an entrance exam for sixth year at Hogwarts," Persephone continued.

Pansy's brow furrowed. "But, if you're just now getting your grades, how'd they know which classes to let you in? I mean you have to have an 'O' to get in Advanced Potions."

"Well, Dumbledore looked my tests over before they were sent off for official grading," Persephone explained. "And he sort of guessed my grade from that."

Pansy looked morally offended. "But he can't do that, can he?"

"Of course, he can. He's the headmaster," Draco said shortly. Pansy's blunt curiosity made him uncomfortable, but Daphne's shrewd expression and Zabini's watching convinced him it was time to flee. "Come on, Persephone, I'll walk you to class."

"But-"

"I'll see you later, Pansy. Crabbe, Goyle, Charms, fifteen minutes."

"Bye," Persephone added, as she gathered her package and followed Draco out of the Great Hall.

To keep the conversation from returning to the box too soon, he indicated the letter. "These are pretty good," Draco said. "Considering."

Persephone went back to looking dejected. "I got an 'E' in Transfiguration."

"That's not a bad grade, particularly considering you only got a 'P' in Magical Creatures."

"Well, I rather expected that," Persephone pouted. "Naturally, I'd do badly on Creatures. I'm not sure why he even bothered making me take the written. But I'm good at Transfiguration. Oh, it must have been that stupid essay." She kicked at the ground.

"Oh, buck-up," Draco said. "Look, you got an 'O' in Divination."

"But Divination's so useless!"

"Well, if that doesn't make you happy, you've got three more," said Draco. "Granted History of Magic is pretty useless too, but Potions is useful...Excalibur." The section of dungeon wall serving as an entrance swung open.

"History is not useless," she said huffily, as the door to the Slytherin common room closed behind them. "But four 'O's is just embarrassing!"

Draco gave her a bland smile. "Don't let Goyle hear you say that."

"What? He get four?"

Draco snorted. "He didn't get one. Essays killed him, poor fellow. He did manage to scrape an 'E' in Transfiguration."

"Oh." Draco watched the sympathy for Goyle and continued desire to whine over self-disappointment fight for a place on her features.

"Is it my imagination or was the Bloody Baron following us?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Persephone said. "The ghosts have been taking turns walking me to classes." She dropped her voice. "I think they're worried I'm going to disappear again." Her eyes grazed over the box in Draco's hand then traveled up to his face. "Do you think she did something to them?"

Draco looked at the box forlornly. "I don't know. I wish I had a way to...ah-Patafacere!"

"Bless you."

He gave her an annoyed side-glance, and she returned it with a small grin. "It's a potion, detects poisons."

"Ah."

Draco nodded. "The ingredients are a bit expensive, requires Graphorn's horn, but we're making some next week, using the school stores. I could sneak some."

"There's another one that's a little easier to make," Persephone said, her brow furrowed in the attempt to remember. "Oh, I can't think of the name...but it should be pretty easy to look up. I remember all the ingredients could be found in a standard kit."

"You mind skipping lunch?" She shook her head. "Meet you back here then. Let's stow these upstairs and get to class."

Afterwards Draco walked her to class, which was a rather surreal experience. The Bloody Baron bobbed along beside them, and Persephone chatted with him as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The Baron for his part kept most of his responses to nods but made a polite inquiry into their health, which Draco could not fathom how to return in kind. The presence of the ghost escort tended to give them a wide berth from the other students, but that did not stop large numbers of them from waving cheerful "goodmorning"s to Persephone, which she returned gleefully. Draco kept his hands in his pockets. No one waved at him when he made his way back to the Charms corridor alone.

Draco tried to pay attention during Charms, but he kept reaching into his pocket to pull out his mother's short letter. Crabbe and Goyle were still a little miffed at him, but that meant they let him go after class without objections.

He found Persephone during the lunch period sitting on the floor of the Slytherin common room. She had her cauldron set up near the fireplace and a book open in her lap. "Find it?" he asked and joined her.

"Oiu. It's pretty simple. I think we have time to make it before the next class. And it's probably a good thing we're using both potions. Between the two they cover most everything, but there's quite a bit each would miss."

"Mum, would be proud," Draco said humorlessly. "So what's this one called?"

"A Standard Poison Detection Potion."

"I see how you could forget the name." She made a face at him. They followed the directions, taking turns stirring and adding ingredients. The potion called for six ounces of ground Agaricus which was more than he had left in his kit, so Persephone used some from hers. They had to let it sit for a few minutes before adding the sage. Draco looked around to make sure none of the students passing through were taking too much of an interest in them and handed Persephone the note his mother had sent. "Anything about that strike you as odd?"

"It's short," Persephone said. "Wonder what part of the last letter she wants you to remember."

"All of it, probably," Draco said. "But what about this, how did she know I'd skipped meals?"

Persephone shrugged. "I didn't tell her."

"I know that, but who did? And why? Do you think someone could be spying on me?"

Persephone frowned. "It's possible. You said some of the others were Death Eater children."

"Shh."

"It's not like it's a secret. I've been reading some back issues of the Prophet in the library. I'm not holding it against them, mind. Narcissa always had her ways of finding out things. If one of the teachers noticed, they might have written her." Draco shook his head. "Well, what about the paintings? They can travel between their own likenesses. Do you have any duplicates in the manor?"

He had not thought about that. The idea disturbed him, but he was pretty certain his father would not have given Dumbledore a window into his home if he could avoid it. "No, I don't think so. Besides there aren't any portraits in the Great Hall."

"Do you get the feeling anyone's watching you?"

"They're always watching me," Draco said, dropping the sage into the cauldron. He glanced about him. The common room was nearly deserted but the few people passing through eyed them curiously. "Everyone."

"I'd be wasting my time if I told you not to worry about it, wouldn't I?"

"Yup." The potion was very green. It had the opacity of icing, but much thinner consistency. "Is it ready?"

"Mm-hm."

"So what do we do?"

"Drop in a bit of whatever you think might be poisoned and see if it reacts."

"Reacts?"

"Poison should make the potion fizz or change color or something."

Draco opened the box of sweets. "Do you think the poison is in one thing or everything?"

"I don't think any of it's poisoned," she said. They were already speaking in low voices out of habit, but she dropped hers so that it was barely audible. "They would know it was Narci. She'd be arrested; the manor would be searched by Aurors. Besides poison's sloppy."

Draco nodded. That was his mother's number one rule. Don't get caught. Maybe she was simply trying to win him back, apologizing the only way she could. More flies with honey and all that. "But if she did want to poison me?" he murmured softly, the words threatening to stick in his throat.

"Only reason she'd risk it is to stop you from telling something. Like what you saw to make you run. You're still not going to tell me are you?" Draco shook his head. Either way, he was a trapped fly. Persephone sighed. "I think she'd be thorough, poison everything. She wouldn't take the chance of you giving away the poisoned item to someone else or saving it for a few weeks. What's your favorite?"

"Scones."

"Pop a bit of that in first."

Draco pulled on a glove, unwrapped a scone, broke off a piece, and dropped it into the green potion. The scone bit sank beneath the surface with an anti-climatic lack of fizz. It was oddly disappointing. He rewrapped the remainder so they could check it later. He went through the same ceremony with the buns, tarts, and other items. His Chocolate Frog made it halfway to the leather sofa before he caught it and broke off a leg to drop in the potion. There was still no reaction, and he was ready to give up.

"Do you want to try the beans?"

He sighed. "She knows I don't eat them."

"I do though," Persephone said thoughtfully. "Maybe she's after me rather than you."

"That's possible, but lots of people eat them."

"Drop a few in."

He did so. One of them left a dark spot where it hit the surface. He grimaced. "What does that mean?"

"Um..." Persephone consulted her book. "I think that means it uses Red dye number 40."

"Which isn't deadly."

"Not last I checked."

"Well, this was a wonderful waste of time, wasn't it?"

"Hopefully. We'll know for sure when we have the Patafacere." She gave him a half smile. "Guess I ought to clean this up."

Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at the potion. "Evanesco." The green goo vanished, leaving an empty cauldron.

"You've got nice control," she said appreciatively. "I was worried I'd make the cauldron vanish."

Draco shrugged. He had been taking the lazy route rather than trying to show off.

She looked him over with a shrewd expression. "I think you should know something." He raised his eyebrow curiously. "Lucius got five 'O's on his O.W.L.s, and he worked very hard for them."

Draco just blinked at her a few times. "Five?" She nodded.

"There you are!" Daphne's voice rang lightly across the common room. Persephone's hands gave a startled twitch. Draco shoved the box quickly behind his back, and made a bigger show of packing up the potion ingredients. "Have you've been doing homework all this time?" she asked, looking disappointed.

"Yes," Persephone said quickly. "Draco was helping me with a little extra credit project for Professor Snape."

"Good to take advantage of it. He doesn't give extra credit assignments often," Daphne said, then sunk down in one of the large chairs and checked herself in a compact. While Daphne muttered at her reflection, Draco and Persephone quickly packed the cauldron away.

"You should write her back," Persephone said.

Draco bit back a sigh. "I know."

"Do you mean to tell me you haven't written your mother yet?" Daphne tisked disapprovingly. Draco scowled at her, and bit back the urge to say that he had not meant to tell her anything. Daphne laughed suddenly. "You're turning into a rather bad boy, aren't you?"

Draco hurled a throw pillow at her, though not hard enough to do any damage. "I've been busy. Got six N.E.W.T.s coming up."

Daphne caught the pillow and laughed again. "Be nice. I'm you're side." She hurled the pillow back again. He caught it, and their eyes met. Not for the first time, he got the fleeting impression that she understood him and his darkness better than any of them.

****************

~

Dearest Mother,

Thank you for the package and reading recommendation. I am sorry to have taken so long to write you. It was not my intent to make you worry. I've just been incredibly busy. So busy in fact, I'm seriously considering giving up Quidditch.

I had hoped the letter I left on my dresser would have explained everything. I would like to think we understand each other, the way old friends do. For we are the oldest of friends aren't we, mother? You've always kept my secrets as I keep yours.

I am sorry about the Quibbler nonsense, and hope that you recognize it for just that. Please, do not worry. I have not forgotten the importance of appearance.

Your Devoted Son,

Draco Malfoy

~

Draco sent Oberon off with the letter that evening, and by the next morning the owl had returned with his mother's response.

~

My Only Blood,

I can't believe you really want to give up Quidditch. The game has given you so much pleasure. Do not abandon it now, even under the weight of your studies. I know your father would not approve. You and he are sons of the air. Wind is in your blood. I can not picture you willingly earthbound. Are you sure this is entirely your idea?

I want to trust you, my Draco, but I can't help but feel that I am losing you.

Faithfully Yours,

N.M.

~

Draco scratched out a short reply before his morning class.

~

Mother,

It is the nature of all children to grow and become increasingly independent. This is not loss but maturity. I remember everything you and father taught me. Trust that.

Love,

Draco

~

He sent the letter before Ancient Runes, making him late for class, and Professor Noachian took a point from Slytherin for his tardiness. It was a long time before his mother wrote back.

****************

In a strange way, or perhaps it merely made for a convenient excuse, the loss of the point helped endear him to Crabbe and Goyle once again. They both called Noachian several unflattering names and suggested unpleasant things they could do to avenge the lost point.

It was only one point however, and Draco was quite sure he could win it back. If he had hoped to do so in Potions, however, he found that he was out of luck. Professor Snape was continuing to be extremely cold to him. He said something to Pansy about it at dinner, and she assured him it was his imagination.

Draco sighed.

"He's always like that," Pansy said. "All dark and crabby, but I'm sure he means well."

"Who?" Persephone asked, making her usual late arrival at the dinner table.

"Professor Snape."

"Oh," Persephone scowled, her voice taking on a defensive quality. "He's not crabby. He just holds everyone to high standards. I think that's a good quality in a professor."

"I'm not criticizing his teaching ability," Pansy said distractedly. "I just think he can be a bit crabby."

"I think it's about time Professor Snape got himself a girlfriend," Daphne said expertly. "He'd be so much less tense."

Pansy scrunched her nose in disgust. "Who in their right mind would date Snape?"

"I think he's very attractive," Persephone said, trying not to sound huffy.

Pansy goggled. Daphne snapped her head about. Her eyes sparkled as though Persephone had suddenly become very interesting. "He is yummy, isn't he?" she said with a broad grin.

Persephone smiled at her new kindred spirit and nodded enthusiastically. "And his voice?"

"Mm, velvet."

Alice spoke up, startling Pansy. "I don't know if I'd call him handsome exactly, but he's got presence."

Indigo was nodding her agreement. "Yes, presence."

Draco felt Persephone kick him lightly under the table as if to say I told you so.

"He's got a big nose," Draco said as he stabbed a bit of steak. Normally, he did not like to criticize Snape, but Persephone's preoccupation with him disturbed him rather deeply, more so to hear her drag the other girls into it.

"I like his nose," Persephone said primly. "I think it makes him look distinguished."

"I like the way he dresses," Indigo added. "It's dramatic."

"It's all black," Pansy said with a snort.

"I like the way his robes fit," Daphne said. Crabbe nearly choked on his potatoes.

"You're disgusting, Greengrass," said Pansy. There was a look of mild horror about her features, and Crabbe's as well. "He's old."

"I like them mature," said Daphne, taking a little too long to slide the bite off her fork. Daphne had never made it much of a secret that she preferred older men.

"But he's a professor!" Crabbe protested.

"Oh, that just makes it interesting," Daphne said and licked some remaining sauce off the fork. Alice and Indigo were both turning pink with effort to suffocate their giggles. Pansy looked indignant.

"He's not old," Persephone said. She had been giggling as well but choked it down to set the record straight. "He's only thirty-seven."

"Really?" Pansy dropped her look of disgust for one of genuine surprise. "I would have thought he was much older."

"That's just because he's got the world weary look," Daphne continued. "Like he knows all sorts of dark and secret things. It's part of the allure."

Draco grimaced and rubbed his temples. This conversation would not be nearly so disturbing if they weren't talking about Professor Snape.

"We're talking about Professor Snape," Pansy said sharply. "A Hogwarts teacher. It's disrespectful, and there's absolutely no allure."

"I think he's got tons of allure," Persephone retorted. "What do you think Millicent?"

"Yup, Snape is sexy," Millicent said in her blunt, pragmatic manner. Goyle, who had been successfully ignoring the conversation to that point, looked startled. Crabbe had quite abandoned attempting to eat. Pansy looked to Draco for support, and the other girls doubled up with suppressed giggles.

Draco exchanged a sympathetic glance with her and looked up at the teachers table. Snape was looking in their general direction. When Draco caught his eye, his expression changed, and he looked away. It's not just disappointment. He's angry at me, Draco thought. But why? What did I do?

When he came back to the conversation, Goyle was speaking surlily to Millicent. Pansy was trying to distract the girls from Snape with other professors.

"What about Firenze? He's actually quite good looking...well, the top half anyway."

"Sure, the top half, but what about the bottom?" Daphne said.

"Firenze?" asked Persephone.

"The Advanced Divination instructor," Alice explained, then lowered to a whisper. "He's a centaur. I know it's absolutely scandalous to have a half breed teaching, but he's so gorgeous!"

Blaise, who had not looked up from his book for the previous conversation, remained engrossed in his novel. Draco wondered why Blaise had bothered to sit with them at all, but then he was starting to wonder why he had bothered to sit with them.

He wanted to shock them. Do something completely unexpected. Something that would shake the very foundation of how they saw him. Taking Hermione to the dance would certainly do that, but it was so far away and dependent upon her cooperation.

I could walk off the Quidditch team, he told himself. He had threatened to do so in his letter, because he knew it would hurt his father. Hurt Lucius in a way that would not really injure him, hurt him in a way he could not be sure that was the intention. He had not really considered whether or not he would actually do it. But I could.

He had been surprised that his mother had reacted so melodramatically. Sons of the air, wind in your blood that sort of appeal was too flowery to have been his father's words in her name. She was always supportive of his Quidditch pursuits but had not invested nearly the same time or energy on them that his father had. Maybe she was more worried that someone else was talking him off the team, but that made even less sense. Persephone had not said a word about whether he should play, nor had Dumbledore or Snape or anyone else. Or maybe it was not her but Voldemort who wanted him to stay on the team.

He could not conceive of any reason why it would be important to Voldemort to have him on the Quidditch team or for Dumbledore to have him off. Unless, Voldemort wanted Draco to kill Harry during a Quidditch match, but that was absurd. Brutal as Quidditch might be, there were too many teachers watching during a game, unless he could make it look like an accident.

He was contemplating death by Quidditch when he felt Persephone shove a bit of parchment into his palm.

Trophy Room 8:30

So at eight thirty, he wandered into the trophy room. It was a large room. The walls were covered with crystal cases full of an endless variety of gleaming trophies, cups, and other well-polished honors but no portraits. Persephone was already there, searching the cases. "It's gone," she said as much to herself as to him. "The shield that used to be here. It's gone."

"Is that what you wanted to speak to me about? A missing shield?"

"Oh, no...I wanted to talk about the Deys."

"What days?-oh, the Deys, Thomas. Um," Draco stuck his hands into his pockets, wrapped his fingers around the envelope of jewels. This was not among the list of topics he had been expecting to discuss. "Did you figure out anything?"

"Yes and no. It's a bit more complicated than we thought. Their father's a Death Eater."

Draco ran his hand through his hair and used the gestures as a chance to check the room again for anyone or thing that might be listening. "How do you know?"

"Well, I talked to Victoria first-"

"She told you?" he spurted in surprise.

"No, of course not. Not directly anyway. She isn't going to let Thomas or herself testify against him."

"She's got a rather tight leash on him doesn't she?"

"She's trying to protect him. So I asked Dumbledore-"

"You went to Dumbledore?"

Persephone put her hands on her hips as though asking if he was going to interrupt every sentence.

"It's just that Professor Snape is head of Slytherin House," Draco explained. "If you were going to a teacher, you should have gone to him."

"That's pretty much what Dumbledore said. He sent me to Severus. I know I probably should have gone to him first, but it's still strange to me to think of him as Head of Slytherin House. He's still my Severus." Her hands slid off her hips and clasped behind her back. "He said Victoria and Thomas are safe for right now. Victoria always stays over Christmas Holidays so they won't have to worry about facing their father until June. He'll try to figure out something to do for them by then."

"Well, it's taken care of then," Draco said with some relief. He had dreaded that the she was going to ask him to do something.

She frowned. "Did you know? That their father was a Death Eater?"

Draco shook his head. "I know some of them, not all. That's part of why I'm a bit paranoid. I don't know which of the students might be reporting back or taking orders for that matter."

"Children aren't their parents."

"No, they're just shaped by them."

Persephone sighed and turned back to the display case. "They put Harry and Ron's award in its place. 'H. Potter and R. Weasley. Special Services to the school.' It's rather ironic."

Draco could not see what that had to do with anything. He felt a draft and crossed his arms over his chest. "You been spending a lot of time with Professor Snape?"

Persephone nodded, her eyes still on the case. "We've got a lot of catching up to do. Twenty years worth of old news."

"Well, somewhere in your chats do you think you could ask him why he's hacked off with me?"

Persephone looked at him curiously. "Surely he's not mad at you."

"He's giving a good impression of it then."

"I'll talk to him," she said in thoughtful manner than reminded him of his mother agreeing to have a private argument with his father on his behalf. They never argued in front of him. It was one of those unspoken rules. Disagreements were private things, not to be displayed. Persephone caught his glum expression and reached over to hug him. "It will be all right."

"Caught ya!"

They started and broke apart. Filch stood in the doorway. His cat, Mrs. Norris, curled about his feet. He gave them a nasty smile. "Against the rules to fraternize in the halls. A prefect should know that."

Persephone recovered from her surprise and gave Filch one of her disarming smiles. Her voice carried the echoes of a laugh as though he had said some thing funny. "We weren't-"

"I know what you weren't, missy," Mr. Filch cut her off, clearly not disarmed. "I think a detention is in order."

"You can't give us detention," Draco drawled. His heart rate was returning to normal, and he was annoyed with Filch for startling him. "You can only recommend them. A non-teaching staff member should know that."

Filch flushed. "I'll be having a chat with Professor Snape then."

"You do that," Draco said as he slid past Filch into the hall. He looked back to Persephone, expecting her to follow, but she stayed where she was looking uncertain. "Come on," he prompted.

She hesitated a moment but decided trapped with Filch in the trophy room was the worse option. With an apologetic look, she sidestepped past Filch. As she passed, Mrs. Norris hissed and flattened her ears. Filch bent down to soothe her. "Don't like the nasty girl, do you, my sweet?"

Persephone looked wounded. She opened her mouth, but Draco grabbed her arm and stalked off quickly. She forced to follow. "Worthless Squib," he muttered, as they left Filch far behind.

"Is he?" Persephone asked, tripping to keep up with him. "Poor man."

Draco snorted. "Don't waste your pity on him, and don't worry about Mrs. Norris, either. That cat doesn't like anyone." He did not add that he had rarely seen Mrs. Norris react so dramatically to a student.

"No," Persephone said as they descended the stairs. "It's me. I'm unnatural."

****************

Draco could threaten and bluster all he liked, but his mother was right about one thing. He could not give up Quidditch. He circled the Quidditch field on Thursday afternoon, watching the hopefuls try to get the Quaffle past Jonathan. He had suggested to Jonathan that he should try as a Chaser and look for someone smaller to play seeker. It had been a fantastic boost to Draco's ego, when Jonathan had balked.

"You're a fantastic seeker," Jonathan had insisted. "You've only lost the Snitch to Potter."

"But I always lose the Snitch to Potter," Draco said glumly.

"So don't this year," Jonathan said with a shrug. "Look, only one to ever snatch the Snitch from Potter is Diggory, and you snatched it from Diggory. You've got five years experience and a Timebender. I'm not trading that for someone lighter."

There was really no feeling to compare to flying other than flying. The feeling was infinitely better on a clear day with your teammates behind you and nothing chasing you. He had worried a little at first about leaving the safety of the castle walls for the exposure of the Quidditch field, but his anxieties had melted away when his feet left the ground. There had always been an element of risk to playing Quidditch, one he had long ago accepted, and Draco knew what remained of his life would not be bearable if he just watched the others play.

The Slytherin Quidditch team had been a boys only club for as long as Draco had been at Hogwarts, so the four remaining members had a long debate before finally admitting that Chesann Blampied was a far superior Chaser to anyone else trying out. They had an even longer debate trying to decide who would take the remaining two Chaser slots. In the end, they chose two more girls, Chesann's cousins, fifth year Holly Blampied and fourth year Enid Seckatchian. Not because the younger girls were particularly good, they were competent, but because they had been training with Chesann for the past several years and had already established a certain rhythm with her.

He climbed the stairs to the Astronomy Tower that evening, the wind still in his blood. Crabbe and Goyle were too exhausted from Quidditch practice to make any protest as he left them to sit across the room. It took a little more effort to get past Indigo, Alice, Lisa, and Su, who were nearly ecstatic to learn that the three girls had made the Slytherin team. To his delight, he caught Hermione watching the commotion. Her expression was unreadable, but he still liked the idea of her watching him be surrounded by a crowd of excited girls. At length he broke away from them and took his seat.

"Had Quidditch tryouts today," he said, because it was the most convenient conversation opener he had.

She made a noncommittal noise.

He started to say something about the new appointments but felt that might violate some Quidditch code of conduct. He glanced at her hand and noticed the bandages were gone. He almost said something about it but worried it might bring up unpleasant memories. "It's a nice clear night," he said instead. Wonderful, the weather, I'm talking about the weather.

She made another noise that almost sounded like an affirmative.

Obviously, Hermione was not interested in talking. It doesn't matter, he told himself. She heard you.

****************

On Tuesday, Persephone was missing at the beginning of lunch, but this had stopped being unusual. Draco had a good appetite and was enjoying watching Daphne and Nott argue over their latest Dark Arts assignment. Pansy was frowning at something past his head.

"Nicholas Horne's a half-blood isn't he?" she asked Draco.

He chewed and swallowed the mouthful of potatoes he had just taken, while he tried to remember who Horne was. "Sixth year? Hufflepuff? Yeah, he's a half-blood."

Persephone finally appeared carrying a large newspaper and slid into the empty spot between Draco and Nott.

"You do know Horne's a half-blood," Pansy told her in lieu of a greeting.

Persephone's eyes widened slightly as though Pansy had just given her an interesting and enlightening piece of information. "No, I didn't. I mean I knew his mother was a Muggle, but he hadn't said about his father."

Pansy just blinked at her. Daphne's lips parted to laugh, but she checked herself. Pansy placed her fingers to her temple as she recovered herself. "Alice?" she said in a tone that said please explain.

"Now, Persephone," Alice said diplomatically. "If you're going to sit with the Seventh Years, you really ought to avoid randomly associating with people of questionable backgrounds."

"Oh, I wasn't randomly associating," Persephone said, not missing a beat. "I was asking him a question. He's in my Muggle Studies class."

Pansy's eyes went very wide. "You're taking Muggle Studies?" Persephone nodded. "Why on earth would you want to take Muggle Studies?"

"Could be useful," Draco said, thinking about the past summer. "If you were stranded or something."

"If you're stranded, you can call the night bus," said Pansy.

"Not if your wand's been snapped," Nott said helpfully.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Sure if your dumb enough to find yourself in the middle of the countryside with no broom, no wand, and you failed your Apparation exam, it might be bit inconvenient. I'm not worried about that happening enough to subject myself to an entire course on Muggles."

"Does sound rather dull," Nott agreed. "Ah, my beloved beckons." He clambered out of his seat to join a blonde sixth year girl waving at him from the far end of the Slytherin table.

"Honestly, I think it should be a required course," Persephone said, pushing Nott's abandon plate aside to make room for her paper.

"Required?!" Pansy repeated with a truly horrified expression.

"Well, it's very practical. Numerically there are loads more Muggles out there than wizards."

"But none of the other Slytherins are taking it, are they?" Pansy protested.

"No, I think I'm the only one," Persephone said. "Out of the sixth years anyway. It's a little strange don't you think? The class is loads of fun. I can't believe all the things that have changed. They've replaced records now with shiny little silver disks-"

"CDs," Daphne supplied.

"Right, and they've got home computers and this thing called the Internet. I want to get on the Internet. You can talk to people in China."

"You can talk to people in China with good quality magic mirror," Pansy said, giving Daphne a strange look. "Wizards have been able to do that for ages."

"Sure if you already know who you want to speak to, but on the Internet, they got chat room things where you can talk to a bunch of people at once, meet strangers, and..."

"Why on earth would you want to talk to strangers in China?" said Draco.

"Well, I'm not sure," Persephone admitted. "But it's still rather wicked that you can. And that's not all you can do. It's got all sorts of information, like a library in a box. I think it's really exciting."

"It's pretty cool. We've got a connection at home," said Millicent. She paused and looked startled as though she had just let slip some terrible secret and hurried to explain. "I like to follow American football, and you can get Quidditch scores if you know where to look."

"That's wonderful," Persephone said encouragingly. "Maybe you could show me sometime. I'd love to see it."

Millicent relaxed and smiled back at her. Then she caught Pansy's disapproving expression and wilted a bit. "I can't believe a Muggle game is all that interesting," Pansy said coolly.

"Football's great," Goyle disagreed. "The players are huge, and the whole games about them knocking each other over. They're always breaking bones and stuff. Millicent's dad took us to a game this summer."

"With us it was always Muggle music," Persephone said. "Papa is always bringing home new records for us. Professor Kotter said we're doing a music section next. He's gonna play Beatles records for us."

"I love The Beatles," Millicent said.

"Bugs?"

"Not bugs, Pansy, they're a band," Daphne explained. Pansy was giving Daphne an even stranger look now.

"They're really good," Indigo said. "For a Muggle band...Millicent made me listen."

"Eleanor Rigby," Persephone sang, and Millicent, Daphne, Indigo, and to Draco's great surprise Alice joined her. He, Crabbe, and Pansy watch bewildered as the girls sang about strange people who kept their faces in jars.

They broke off grinning, and Daphne laughed. "Have you heard David Bowie?"

"No, I haven't," said Persephone looking eager.

"I've got every one of his albums," Daphne confessed with the same relish she used to divulge dirty gossip. "He's absolutely divine. I'll have to play some for you."

Pansy turned to Persephone in an attempt to regain her place in the conversation. "You know the Weird Sisters played here a few years back," she said with a superior smile.

"Oh, no, I didn't," Persephone admitted. "But then I'm not familiar with the Weird Sisters. Are they any good?"

Pansy's jaw dropped. "Any good? They're the best!"

"Yes, definitely the best wizarding band," Indigo echoed.

Draco had always thought the Weird Sisters were a little over rated. He was much bigger fan of Celestina Warbeck but had a feeling that admitting so would lose him status points with the younger wizards.

"You do know that their Dance Magic is a Bowie cover," Daphne said.

Pansy looked scandalized. "Is not."

Daphne laughed at her. "Yes, dear, it is." Pansy flushed.

"Lot's of wizarding bands do Muggle covers," Persephone said. "It's been like that for ages. I think Muggles are really rather clever with their music."

"I'm not much on the music, but I like the cinema," Crabbe said. It was Draco's turn to whip his head around and gape at his friend. "My aunt took me to see this one movie about these aliens in outer space. They had three mouths, and they eat people. It was really cool."

"Oh, that's nice," Persephone said with a rather forced smile.

"I like telephones," Daphne said.

"What's so great about a telephone?" Pansy said irritably.

Draco was still gaping at Crabbe. "Your father let you go to a Muggle cinema?"

Crabbe had been smiling, but his face darkened at Draco's question. "What he doesn't know won't kill him," he muttered. Draco doubted he would discuss it further.

"I think they're rather seductive," Daphne was saying. "Something about the shape of them and having the voice right in your ear."

"Who on earth do you call?"

Draco wanted to ask what a telephone was, but he felt stupid, even Pansy seemed to know. He wondered if all the rest of them just feigned ignorance about Muggle world, and he was the only one truly ignorant. Last year he would have raked them over the coals for discussing Muggle bands, a part of his brain was still protesting very loudly. Persephone's triumphant smile bothered him, but he simply could not work up the energy to be derisive. It hardly seemed important. Pansy was showing the appropriate disdain, but he had the horrible feeling that he and she were a dying breed.

It also seemed strange to him that Persephone could get them to admit these things so easily, but then she had a way with people. She had won over the first and second years by installing a Friday evening study group for them in the Slytherin common room. Draco suspected that she enjoyed mothering them. She had even recruited some of the sixth and seventh year students to help her with it. He had too much homework of his own to be a useful tutor, but he sat at the common room tables with them as a show of support.

****************

"Have you talked to him?" Draco asked, when he and Persephone were walking between classes later.

"I mentioned it to him, but I think it would be better if you spoke to him yourself."

"Are you mad?" Draco said. "He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Persephone assured him. "Over all I think he's rather fond of you."

"You are mad," said Draco, trying to keep his voice controlled.

"Maybe a little," she said with a small laugh. "But is it so hard to believe?"

"Yes, what with the long history of mutual loathing and curses in the hall."

"Wait, are you talking about Harry?"

"Of course, I'm talking about Harry. Who are you talking about?"

"Se-Oliver."

"Oh, well, that makes a little more sense," Draco admitted. "And thank you. But have you talked to Potter yet?"

"No, not yet," she said quietly.

"Persephone-" he began.

"Well, we keep getting interrupted," she explained.

"Bloody Half-wit Hufflepuff!"

They looked around to see two third year Slytherin boys, facing off against a nervous looking Hufflepuff boy. A small crowd of their peers was circled round and looked as though they were expecting a fight. "Oh, dear," Persephone murmured.

"I'm sorry," the Hufflepuff whimpered. "I tripped."

"Gaw, you're such a worthless klutz," the first Slytherin boy said acidly.

Draco blinked, and Persephone had her arm around the shoulders the Hufflepuff boy. "Lance, Merlin, is that anyway to speak to one of my friends?" she said reprovingly.

The boys hesitated, looking at each other uncertainly. Merlin glanced over at Draco and slid his wand back into his robes. "He's not your friend," Lance balked. "Bet you don't even know his name."

Persephone looked down at the Hufflepuff boy. "What's your name then?"

"It's Harry," said the Hufflepuff nervously.

Persephone laughed, and Harry turned pink. "Is it really? Oh, I like that. Do you want to be my friend, Harry?"

"Um, sure."

"Good. So Harry and I are friends now, and I don't like people talking to my friends that way. You understand, Lance?"

Lance did not like being reproved by a sixth year girl anymore than any third year boy would, but he flicked his eyes across the crowd and Draco's prefect badge and back to Persephone. "Forget it," he grunted and snatched up his dropped book bag. He stalked off, and Merlin followed along behind him.

"Get to class," Draco told the bystanders, and they scattered.

"Uh, thanks," the Hufflepuff Harry said.

"You're name's really Harry?" Persephone asked again. "After Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, I think so," the boy said, going pink again.

"I think that's fantastic," Persephone said with another laugh. "I really would like to be friends, Harry, so don't be a stranger. Best be off to class now, and do try to forgive Lance he's a little stressed out these days."

"Okay, sure," Harry said when she released him. "It was a bit my fault, anyway. See you around."

"Bit stressed out?" Draco asked as she rejoined him.

"Well, Lance's sister is in St. Mungo's with something rather nasty," Persephone explained in a sobered voice. "She's touch and go right now, and he's very worried. Couple that with all the regular pressures of being thirteen, and well..."

"Everyone's a bit tense these days," Draco said. "Fights were always breaking out in the halls last year, but we were talking about why you haven't talked to Harry. The other Harry."

Persephone gave a helpless sigh. "I'm getting the impression that he doesn't really want to talk to me. I think I'm making him anxious. I think maybe, if I just did like you and G. and took my time, let Harry get to know me a little and see that I'm not trying to hurt him."

"Why would he think you're trying to hurt him?"

"I don't know. Poor thing's been through a lot," Persephone said. "He's bound to be a little paranoid."

Draco could understand paranoia, but he had the strong feeling Persephone was going about it all wrong. "This isn't like my problem. I'm trying to make up for six years of abuse. It's just going to get harder to explain the longer you put it off."

****************

Draco had once read a book on magical theory called The Law of Equivalent Exchange. That is to say he had started to read it, but the whole idea was so nonsensical, and the text so dry, that he had not finished. The basic idea of Equivalent Exchange was that for anything gained something of equal value must be given up. The idea had some basis in the fact it was easier to transfigure something into something else of roughly the same size and mass. But as a general principle it had to be nonsense because otherwise no one could ever gain wealth or be able to make decisions.

It was the Equivalent rather than the Exchange part that bothered Draco. He had watched his father do business enough to know that a good deal was one where you walked away from the table with more than you had brought to it. He also knew from experience, though he had been in denial through much of his youth, that every decision involved Opportunity Cost.

The irritating nonsense of Equivalent Exchange seemed to have the upper hand at the beginning of his Potions Class. Because the ingredients for a Patafacere Potion were so expensive, they were only allotted enough Graphorn horn and amber gris to make the amount of potion to fill the vial they would turn in for a grade at the end of class. Therefore to steal a useful amount of the potion Draco was going to have to employ Opportunity Cost.

He always took great care with his potion making, but he was particularly focused as he stirred his cauldron exactly three times clockwise and seven counterclockwise. He had researched the Patafacere Potion thoroughly in advance and knew that the finished result should have a reddish golden color and a viscosity slightly higher than blood and lower than syrup. It should look exactly like the vial of less valuable fluid secreted away in his robe pocket.

On reflection, he wished that he had not asked Persephone to speak to Snape on his behalf. The only change in Professor Snape's behavior was that he was now spending a good deal of time watching Draco with a less than fond expression, instead of avoiding looking at him as he had done in the previous classes. Draco carefully filled his vial with the finished potion, taking his time and trying hard not to return Snape's gaze. The first students approached Snape's desk to deposit their filled vials and obstruct his view. When Pansy stood to take her finished potion up, Draco twisted in his seat to stand and made the switch.

It was quite clear to Draco that the knowledge of whether or not his mother was trying to poison him was more valuable than the Opportunity Cost of a single day's grade in Potions. He was equally certain than the cost of looking a little clumsy in front of his classmates would not be nearly as great as the cost if Snape caught him stealing.

He held the vial lightly between two fingers, twirling it, and stood a little too closely behind Padma Patil. Padma set her vial on Snape's desk. She turned around smartly and slammed into Draco, who dropped the vial. It shattered on the stone floor, splattering reddish gold liquid on the shoes of everyone standing nearby. "Damn it, Patil," Draco swore.

Padma looked appropriately indignant.

"You will watch your language in the classroom," Snape snapped. "And if you had held that vial more carefully, you might have saved your grade on this assignment."

"But, sir-" Pansy began. Snape silenced her with a look.

"It will be a zero for today, Mr. Malfoy." Draco hung his head, trying to focus on the embarrassment he was genuinely feeling and not the sense of triumph underneath it. "And you will see me after class." Damn it.

Several of the students other than Pansy had looks of surprises on their faces. They had never heard Snape criticize Draco in class before. Draco would have been rather miserable about it, even if he had not been worried Snape was going to find the potion vial in his pocket. He caught sight of Hermione, chatting with Potter and Longbottom on the far side of the room. They seemed to have missed the entire incident, which was just as well. The bell rang and the room cleared of students.

"My office," Snape said and swept into the other room.

Draco followed him with a mixture of apprehension, anticipation, and irritation. There was a subtle shift in Snape's body language as he closed the office door, and Draco's heart jumped. "Have a seat," Snape told him.

Draco remained standing. His legs were tensed. "Are you angry with me, sir?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, his face impassive. "Should I be?" Professor Snape gave off the impression of being very tall. Draco had at least half an inch on him, but he still got the feeling that Snape was towering over him.

"I don't see why," Draco whined, suddenly feeling eleven. "I brought her back. I thought you'd be happy."

Snape expression softened, but Draco still found it unreadable. "I am glad to have her back. But Persephone refuses to tell me where she has been or who is responsible for her disappearance. I was hoping you could enlighten me."

Draco felt a pit grow in his stomach. "No sir, I can't."

Snape's expression hardened, his black eyes boring into Draco's. "Can't or won't?"

"Can't, I promised," Draco lied weakly.

"I do not care about your promises," Snape snarled taking a step forward. Draco had to fight the instinct to cringe. He had seen Professor Snape angry before, but he was not used to being the target of that anger. "This is not some child's game, Mr. Malfoy. Persephone has been missing for twenty-one years. She vanished without a clue, without a reason. I have searched every inch of England-" Obviously not every inch, said a snide little voice in the back of Draco's mind. "-followed every lead to its dead end, and still lack explanation. Where was she?"

"What does it matter?" Draco said. He felt tired. "She's safe now."

"How can I know that, if I don't know what happened in the first place?!" There was the slightest crack in his voice. Oh, Draco thought, and the very small, quiet part of his mind that had wondered if Persephone might be his princess died completely. However strange and disturbing, the connection between her and his professor was deep and older than Draco. Oh, I see. I rescued your princess. Naturally you're angry, but you know that anger is childish and selfish. Sure enough, Snape looked away from him and paced back to his desk. When he turned around again, he had composed himself. "Sit down, Mr. Malfoy."

This time Draco did sit. He felt drained, almost sleepy, but he did not dare relax. The game was not over until the Snitch was caught. He realized he was looking at the floor and forced himself to meet Snape's steady gaze.

When Snape spoke again, his tone was nearly conversational. "I don't suppose at any point during your long lost summer you saw your father?"

Draco felt a muscle twitch in his cheek. "No, sir."

"Hmph." Snape perched himself on the edge of his desk and studied Draco. Draco focused on the spot just under Snape's eyes, instinctively avoiding direct eye contact. "Let me show you something," said Snape.

Draco leaned forward, curious in spite of himself, and watched Snape roll back his left sleeve revealing the tattoo of a skull and serpent. The Dark Mark. The mark of a Death Eater.

Draco's legs jerked, pushing him back into the chair before he remembered that it would be better not to show panic. But how could he feel anything other than the panic seizing up his muscles, constricting his blood vessels? How could he have misjudged Professor Snape so completely? He had been so sure that Snape was loyal to the Ministry, so sure Snape would protect him. There was no way he could run. The door was closed, possibly locked, and trying would only expose his back to Snape. What was Snape going to do to him? Was he ordered to kill him? Wipe his memory? Take him back to Voldemort?

Snape's relentless black eyes were studying him as though he was a potion experiment that had just done something interesting. Draco gripped the chair in an attempt to get his mutinous body to stop shaking. He was slowly becoming aware how wide his eyes had gone.

"Why did you run away from the manor?"

Draco forced himself to take a normal breath. Questions, information, lie, you can talk your way out of this. But what lies were the right ones? "I--Persephone--" he stammered. He could feel his heart beat in his throat now. Horrible thoughts emerging. Had she meant to give him up to Snape like this? Had he persuaded her to join her old Slytherin friends? Or was he lying to her too? Had Draco led them both into the dragon's lair? Had Snape been one of the faces hidden by a Death Eater's hood in the cavern below the manor? Had he watched the death of Evra Tome? Participated in it?

"You found her in the manor. The attic she was in. It was yours."

Draco bit back a whimper. He wished Snape would blink. Blink. Occlumens, idiot, occlumens, break eye contact, but he did not dare look away. He blinked very slowly, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second so he could begin a mental barrier. He still cares, Draco thought furiously. She's still his princess. Use that somehow. You have to use it.

"Is he there?"

Draco felt confusion cut through his fear. "I don't-" Who did Snape mean? His father or Voldemort? And why didn't he already know? Could he blame Voldemort? Divide them?

"Was it--was it Lucius?"

"No," Draco said, meeting Snape's eyes directly, surprised by the sudden change in tone both Snape's and his own.

Snape seemed to collapse. He broke eye contact on his own and put his head in hand. Black hair curtained his face. "Thank God," he muttered in a rather piteous tone.

Draco forced himself to breath normally. He tried to focus on his Occlumency and sort out what was going on. Why had Snape bothered to teach him something that would help him resist Lord Voldemort? Was Snape out of favor with the Dark Lord?

Snape brought his head up and saw Draco watching him. He had the faintest trace of a humorless smile. "Ugly, isn't it?" he said, indicating the tattoo.

Draco neither answered nor nodded.

"Show me your forearm, Draco."

Draco rolled back his sleeve obediently. Snape approached him, took his arm in hand and rubbed his thumb on the unblemished skin of Draco's forearm as though there might be something hidden underneath. Satisfied Snape dropped his arm, and Draco pulled his sleeve back over it.

Snape had called Draco by his given name once last year. It had been in his office then too. Right after the incident with the Bludger. Snape had asked about Draco's father then too, and Draco had spilled all his anxieties. It had been in those months after Lucius's escape from Azkaban and before he had appeared that Christmas Eve at the manor. He had honestly been worried and ignorant, filled with feelings of abandonment, haunted by phantoms of his father's expectations. Frustrated to tears, because he had visited his father in prison and told him about his six 'O's, hoping for praise and only receiving the mild admonition that he had once again failed to best Granger. He had told Snape he feared never living up to his father's expectations.

Snape had given Draco a wryly-sympathetic grin. You are like Lucius in many ways, Draco, but you are not your father. Draco had thought at the time that Snape was telling him he would not be able to live up to his father's example. Now he realized, Snape must have know of Lucius's five 'O's and that Draco had already surpassed him.

"Why do you wear the Dark Mark, sir?" Draco managed, finding his voice at last.

"Because a long time ago I lost something, and I thought the Dark Lord could help me find it," Snape said with a sad smile. "And because all my friends were wearing one. The Dark Lord burns it on with a black fire and a sort of branding iron like one would use on cattle. The process was extremely painful, and it still burns."

Draco felt ill. He remembered a small fire behind Lord Voldemort in the cavern. There had been a metal rod poking out of it. He had not given much consideration. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Don't act stupid," Snape spat, the smile vanishing. "There was a librarian who disappeared the same day you left home. A witch named Evra Tome. Do you know what happened to her?"

"No," Draco said, shaking his head so he would not have to look Snape in the eye. Guilt bubbled inside him, but a confession would not save her now.

"Poor Evra," Snape said blandly. Draco's hand twitched, but he refused to react more. Perhaps Snape was baiting him. "You may go, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked up, disbelieving. Slowly, he pushed himself out of the chair.

"And you will be receiving a detention."

"Detention?!" Draco gaped. "For what?"

"For back talking to a member of the staff. Mr. Filch heard your Squib comment. You will meet him this evening in the trophy room after Quidditch practice, and I suggest you undertake whatever task he has for you with the appropriate attitude and respect. It is not wise for someone in your position to burn any more bridges."

Draco wanted to protest but bit his tongue.

"I have given you every opportunities that I can, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape. "There will be no more second chances. I will not hesitate to expel you if you give me any reason to do so, and I think you realize what that will mean."

Draco nodded numbly and shuffled towards the door.

"All that being said," Snape said softly. "I am grateful."