Worser Angels

Worser Angels

Chapter One

Blood Traitor

Draco Malfoy was having a very bad day, but at least it was almost over. "Pure-blood," he told the Slytherin entrance dully.

And walked into it when it stayed closed.

"Hey--" This just wasn't fair. He'd been hauled away from breakfast by a team of Dementors, then spent the entire day being questioned under Veritaserum, and he had a pounding headache. He wanted to go to bed and sleep for a hundred years. "Pure-blood," he repeated more distinctly.

Crabbe stuck his head out. "Password's changed," he grunted.

"Well, what is it?" he asked impatiently. "And get out of the way, let me in."

"I don't think so."

That had to be the stupidest password ever. "Who picked that?"

But Crabbe was coming out. Followed by Goyle, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Zabini....most of the House, in fact.

Draco had a feeling they weren't planning a surprise welcome-home party.

"The new password," Pansy said, "Is 'Draco Malfoy is a traitor.'"

"What?" He was about to say more, but Goyle punched him in the stomach. The rest of the House followed, swarming him like a bunch of toddlers on a birthday cake, attaching him with fists, feet, and jinxes. Laying on he ground and curling up like a beetle, he managed to get his wand out, and was about to cast a disarming spell, but Bulstrode plucked it out of his hand and snapped it in half. "Hey, that's my--" Crabbe kicked him in the head.

Things got a little fuzzy after that. Some time later, Goyle was sitting on his chest with his knees on Draco's elbows, methodically punching his face. Left, right, left, right. If Goyle was good at one thing, methodical was it.

Pansy stretched out his right arm, tearing the sleeves of his robe in the process. She took out her wand and poked his arm with it.

And his arm exploded in pain. He screamed, writhed, and struggled, but Goyle weighed about twice what he did, and Draco couldn't dislodge him. Eventually, Pansy finished what she was doing, and they all sloped off, cheerfully saying the new House password. When Draco was alone, he had time to think about what had happened. And what had Parkinson done to his arm?

It couldn't be the Dark Mark, could it?

That wouldn't even make sense, considering. He raised his arm--screaming at the explosion of pain in his shoulder.

Pansy had written "TRAITOR" on his arm.

Well, at least it wasn't the Dark Mark.

#

"They should have finished by now," Severus fretted.

"It is rather late," Dumbledore agreed. "Particularly if young Mr. Malfoy hasn't been involved in any Dark activity."

"He hasn't. I'd know if he was. They'd have owled you if they decided to arrest him--wouldn't they?"

"Yes, I'm sure they would have."

"Maybe they put him in protective custody, like Narcissa."

"I assured both Narcissa and the Ministry that we could keep him safe here."

"Well then..." Snape couldn't think of anything else to say. They'd owled Draco and told him to report to the Headmaster's office on his return, so they could escort him to his dormitory or his next class, and inform the other students in no uncertain terms that he was not to be tormented or harassed. Ministry proceedings were supposed to be secret, but neither Snape nor Dumbledore held out the slightest hope that the school hadn't found out that Lucius Malfoy had been killed by Aurors attempting escape from Azkaban and Narcissa had turned Minister's Evidence to keep from being executed. And had given permission for her minor child to be questioned.

"Professor, isn't it horrible?" Nearly Headless Nick drifted into Dumbledore's office. "I was just going to drop in on the Bloody Baron, and--"

"Isn't what horrible?" Snape demanded,

"Professor, I was just getting to that," the ghost chided him. "Young master Malfoy has been attacked."

"Attacked? Where? By whom?"

"Why, he's lying on the floor crying. I didn't cry when I was struck forty times on the neck with a blunt--"

"Where is he, you incorporeal twit?"

Didn't I already say that?" He's outside the Slytherin dormitory. He's--"

Snape was out the door and barreling down the steps, the Headmaster following at a more decorous pace.

#

Draco tried twice to get up, and failed miserably both times. His arms and legs seemed intact--except that something was horribly wrong with his right shoulder--but he had horrible pains in his torso every time he tried to move. Goyle had probably crushed something, sitting on him like that. Even breathing wasn't much fun. Turning his head to spit out a mouthful of blood--as he had to do every minute or so--made him feel like he was going to throw up.

He had to get away. What if they decided to come back?

They. His Housemates. His friends, for God's sake. This couldn't be happening.

"Draco!"

He lifted his head. Snape was swooping down the hallway like a bat in a hurry. What did he want?

Surely teachers weren't allowed to beat up on students. Not even traitors.

"Draco! What are you doing here?"

"I live here," he said. Or tried. What came out was more of a bloody burble.

"You were supposed to go straight to the Headmaster's office. Didn't you get our owl?"

What owl? And this was hardly the time to give him detention or something. He groaned.

"Damn it, Draco! This is a very serious matter."

Draco spat out a tooth.

Snape went away. Thank God. He didn't really need a Dark potions master nagging him at a time like this.

Snape came back. Levitating a door.

What was he going to do with that?

The answer came when Snape rolled him onto the door. Surprisingly gently. Still, Draco whimpered at the pain.

And was ashamed for showing even that much weakness in front of one of them.

He must have blacked out a little, because the next thing he knew the Headmaster was looking down at him. "Mr. Malfoy, you've joined us at last."

Now Snape was standing over him too. He spat out a mouthful of blood, half-hoping Snape would take it as commentary. "Where are you taking me?" He tried not to sound panicked and failed miserably.

He was doing a lot of that today.

"The hospital wing."

Well, that made sense.

"Did you get the owl?"

That bloody owl again. "What owl?"

"We sent you an owl telling you to report to my office when you got back," Dumbledore told him.

"No." And was this really the time to nag him for not answering Dumbledore's summons? Whatever it was he'd done, surely he could hear about it later.

Unless he was being expelled. Could you get expelled for having parents who had been executed?

"We...rather thought something like this might happen," Dumbledore explained.

Oh. So it was only him who was stupid enough to think his friends wouldn't hate him now.

"We wanted to discuss...arrangements...for your protection, before you..."

"I see," Draco snapped.

They reached the hospital wing. "I'll just get Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said, and disappeared from Draco's (admitted limited) field of vision. His view was mostly limited to ceiling, and there was rather less of it on his right side than he thought there ought to have been.

Snape transferred him from door to bed with a flick of his wand and pulled up a chair beside the bed. "You may think," he began.

It sounded like a lecture. Draco groaned. "Stop," he said.

Snape glared. "As you wish," he said coldly.

Draco waited in silence until Dumbledore returned with Madame Pomfrey. The Pomfrey woman opened his robes--that was embarrassing--and tut-tutted. That was worse. "Six broken ribs, broken clavicle, punctured lung, ruptured spleen," she pronounced. "Nothing I can't fix."

And she did so, with a flick of her wand. "It's a good thing you brought him in when you did. That lung...he might have died."

"Here, drink this." Snape shoved a beaker of something foul in his hand.

Draco drank it, and the remaining pain melted away to a dull ache.

"All right then? Dumbledore smiled at him.

"Yes," he agreed. "Except--" he showed the Headmaster his arm. Best to get it over with.

"Who did that?" Snape demanded.

"Parkinson."

"Hm." Dumbledore tried a few spells, but the mark remained, stubbornly. "Don't worry, it can't be permanent. We'll find out how to remove it. Anything else?"

"They broke my wand."

"I'll see that you get another one before you're ready to go back to class, if it can't be repaired. Severus, you'll remain with him until Madame Pomfrey comes on duty in the morning."

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said smoothly.

"Wait--"

"Goodnight, Draco. Severus." And he left. Madame Pomfrey retired to her quarters.

Leaving Draco alone with Snape.

"Mother made me do it," he said quickly. "I couldn't refuse, since I'm a minor. I'm no traitor."

"I know."

"Good." Snape seemed to believe him. "Then you'll tell the others. I'm still on...our side."

"I know you're not a traitor," Snape clarified, "Because you've never taken part in any Dark activities. You can't be a traitor to a cause to which you don't belong."

"Father--" he blustered. "There were secret--"

"I know perfectly well that your father didn't think you could be trusted with any Dark business. He thought that because I told him you were a vain, empty-headed boy who couldn't keep his mouth shut if bragging would enhance his reputation."

"What? Why did you--" Except now he knew why Father hadn't let him do anything. Why Father had treated him like a foolish child.

"To keep you alive," Snape growled. "If he'd put the Mark on you, you'd be in prison right now. Or worse. I couldn't convince him to keep you out of the Death Eaters for your own sake, so I convinced him you weren't worthy to be a part of it."

"So you...lied to him?" He shouldn't have said that. He didn't want to know the answer.

"Of course it wasn't a nice thing to do. Turning a boy's father against him. But there wasn't a lot of choice, and that was what I chose. People like us..."

Draco wasn't sure he was following the conversation. "People like what?"

Snape looked away from him, swallowed hard, and spoke in a levelly, as though he were narrating a particularly uninteresting event in someone else's life. "When you're born into a family with a long Dark history, there are no easy options. You're damned by one side if you do and damned by the other if you don't." Snape was talking very quickly now, as if he was trying to get something over with. "I got the Dark Mark when I was sixteen. My entire family were followers of Voldemort. There was never any question that I would join. Then my parents were killed by Aurors. Resisting arrest. I wasn't the only orphan at Hogwarts by then--far from it--but I was the first to be orphaned by the good side. I threw myself into the cause, seeking vengeance against the wizarding world for killing my parents."

He stopped speaking, for long enough that Draco thought he had finished.

"Then one day--night, rather--I was at a meeting, watching Voldemort order his Death Eaters off on what was sure to be a suicide mission, and I had a revelation. I realized that even though Aurors had cast the curse, Voldemort had killed my parents. He didn't care how many of his followers were killed or maimed or driven mad in his quest for power." He hesitated. "So I became a double agent."

"What?" Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that.

"Yes. So that's another reason I know you're not a traitor. I am one, so I know what it looks like. You do realize that if you tell anyone about this, it will mean my death. And a lot of good people's deaths." He paused, thoughtfully. "You're the only person not in the Order who's been told. Even within the Order, only Dumbledore's inner circle knows. Potter knows, but he found out by accident. Listening in where he shouldn't have been, the mewling little puke."

Draco understood. Snape was telling him that he did trust him, despite what he'd said to Draco's father. "I won't tell anyone." Nobody was talking to him anyway.

"Good. It's very important that you don't. No one, from any House. You do have a hard time keeping your mouth shut when you lose your temper, you know."

"I do not!"

"You've never had to keep any really important secrets," Snape allowed.

"I guess not," he admitted. Not like that, anyway. "If Potter can keep it a secret, so can I."

"I'm sure he'd like to give me up and see Voldemort skin me alive," Snape agreed. "But so far he's shown a surprising degree of restraint. Now. We were expecting some trouble with your housemates once word got out. But...things went a bit further than we thought they would, tonight. It might be necessary to move you to another House."

"What? No. Absolutely not."

"There is some precedent. We can have you re-sorted..."

"I don't want to change houses. All my friends are--" All of his friends had jumped him in the corridor, beaten him to a pulp, and left him for dead. "Damn it."

"Well, it's up to you. We can sort you right away, or wait and see if things settle down. There are some students in Slytherin whose families aren't active in the Dark Arts. You might be all right."

"Let's wait, then." What if the stupid hat put him in Hufflepuff? Or Gryffindor?

Fat chance. He wasn't brave or loyal. Or particularly clever. Sneaky was all he had going for him.

"Very well. Now, I suggest you get some sleep. It's been a difficult day, and tomorrow is unlikely to be much better."

#

Snape woke with a cramp in his neck from sleeping in a hard chair. It was getting light out, but it was still early. Draco still slept, and the Pomfrey woman wasn't moving around yet. He stood up and stretched.

He wondered if it had been wise to tell Draco about his role in the Order. It hadn't been an impulsive decision. He'd thought about the risks, and decided it was worth the chance. To show Draco he knew what it was like.

And...maybe...because he thought Draco might understand what it was like for him.

How embarrassing.

Nobody in the Order knew what it was like to be hated by decent people and to, in turn, hate those who had any tolerance for him.

He sat down again. Draco was still asleep.

This was going to be hard to play. He had shown Draco favoritism because of Lucius's importance. To maintain his cover, that would have to stop. Just at the time Severus was beginning to have some sympathy for him. Luckily, he was a teacher. Everyone would understand that open animosity would be out of order.

He'd have to get through his classes today, and he hadn't planned them. He'd have to think of something.

Maybe he'd just give all the little brats a study hall.

With a sigh, he summoned his lesson book and got to work planning his lessons.

#

After he had eaten breakfast and Madame Pomfrey had given him a clean bill of health, Snape escorted him to Dumbledore's office.

"How are you feeling? Ginger snap?" The Headmaster offered him a tin of flat brown biscuits.

"No thanks. I'm...all right."

"Good. I'm sure these last few days have been very upsetting."

"Yes." He didn't want sympathy. He could barely hold on to his composure as it was.

"I've told the school that anyone who assaults you will face severe discipline. The perpetrators of last night's attack have been assigned a week's detention, and their parents have been notified."

Hah. Their parents probably put them up to it.

"They are well aware that any further incidents will be grounds for expulsion. However, I'd like you to wear this for the next few days." He passed Draco a copper ring. "If you're in any danger, I and all of the Heads of House will be alerted."

He slipped the ring onto his thumb. "Thank you."

"If we had managed to give it to you last night....Well. I haven't found out who intercepted your owl, but whoever it was....I'm very sorry, Draco."

He shrugged.

"I'm responsible for the safety of every student in this school, and I have failed you."

"No harm done."

"Have you given any thought to changing Houses?"

"No."

"If we find that we can't ensure your safety in Slytherin, you'll have to move."

"We'll see." If he kept to brief answers, he could keep his composure.

Sympathy would undo him.

"Would you like to study in the library today, instead of going to your lessons?"

"No. I'll go to class." Malfoys didn't run, and they didn't hide.

Except that Lucius had been cursed in the back as he ran, and Narcissa was hiding in the Ministry's protective custody facility.

"Very well. Severus?"

Snape handed him a wand. "Yours is, I'm afraid, beyond repair. This one should serve until you can get to Diagon Alley to replace it."

He accepted the wand. "Thanks."

"It's birch, with a dragon heartstring. 13 inches. My old school wand."

"Thanks," he repeated, tucking the wand in his sleeve.

"You're quite welcome," Snape said civilly.

"Draco, if there's anything you'd like to talk about, don't hesitate to come to me. My door is always open to you." Dumbledore smiled gently.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said stonily. "May I go to class now?"

"Yes, of course, Severus will escort you."

He stood. "Good day."

Snape put his hand on Draco's shoulder as they walked to the Herbology sheds.

He shrugged it off. "I don't need a minder."

"Suit yourself," Snape said impassively.

"You'd better not let anyone catch you being nice to me. You don't want to blow your cover."

"True. I've been meaning to talk to you about that."

"I understand." Snape was really in the same position as anyone else, only more so. Association with Draco would taint him.

He swept into Herbology, where Professor Sprout was in mid-lecture.

"--not only neutralizes scorpion venom, but it is also an excellent purgative! Divide into pairs, and we'll begin to take cuttings."

Draco found a spot near a plant and rooted in his bag for cutting shears. Around him the rest of the House paired up.

He had expected no one to partner with him, but was surprised to see his Housemates stacked up four to a plant to avoid the places on either side of him.

"Mr. Krugel, Mr. Goyle, there are some free places right here." The dumpy Herbology professor grabbed them by the ears and hauled them to the spot on his right. "Miss Bulstrode, Miss Parksinson, over here." The girls took the plant on his right without having to be dragged.

"Since you missed the beginning of the class, I'll work with you," she told Draco.

"I was with the Headmaster. I have a late note."

"Yes dear, I know." She showed him how to clip the stems just below where they branched and drop them into a nutrient solution the class had mixed up earlier. Then she let him copy from her lecture notes.

But when she left his side, the whispers started.

"Blood traitor..."

"Sold out the Dark Lord..."

"...his own father..."

"...Sang to the Ministry..." from the Slytherins.

"Notorious Dark wizard..."

"...arrested...."

"...surprised they let him come back.." from the Ravenclaws.

Damned by one side if he did, and by the other if he didn't. He ignored them and concentrated on the work as best he could.

On the way to the next class he was tripped, shoved, and yelled at. Nothing serious enough to bring Dumbledore and the others running. Thank God. How humiliating would that be? He hoped if they did come running, he'd be in enough trouble not to care about the embarrassment.

Er, that wasn't quite what he wanted, but...

Charms was much the same. Arithmancy, being a harder class, was a bit better. Most of the students were grinds who didn't talk in class. At lunch time he seriously considered holing up in an empty classroom, but he'd hardly touched his breakfast in the hospital wing--or at all since his breakfast was interrupted the day before--so he was hungry.

Not exactly hungry, but he felt like he ought to eat. So he soared into the Great Hall with his head held high. At the Slytherin table everyone--everyone, even the first-years--slid down the benches so there were no open places.

He stalked to the end of the table where the first-years sat, took out Snape's wand, and sent them sliding out of his way.

A bit more forcefully than necessary. He sat down. The first-years picked peas and bits of mashed potato off of their robes.

He summoned the serving dishes and helped himself.

When a charm from the other end of the table jerked the serving spoon out of his hand, he decided to pretend he'd gotten all he wanted. The food tasted like glue and cardboard, anyway. He forced it down, telling himself he had to keep his strength up. And ignored the sneers, dirty looks, and whispered slurs from his Housemates.

But he couldn't ignore it when someone took out a wand and sent him flying to the floor.

He landed against the dais where the head table was, with a teeth-rattling thump.

That was just the limit. Before he even had time to get up, he took out his wand and prepared to curse.

But Dumbledore and Snape were getting up, Dumbledore to announce "This behavior is completely unacceptable!" and Snape to grab the culprit--a fourth-year boy named Georges--by the scruff of his neck and drag him from the Hall.

"Physical violence," Dumbledore said in rolling tones, "Against any student, no matter how disliked or for what reason, will not be tolerated. This school is a place of learning, it is not a place for brawling or petty violence!"

A Hufflepuff first-year burst into tears.

Draco got to his feet, nodded coolly to his table, and left the Hall.

#

"Right in front of us! In the Great Hall!" Snape was pacing furiously. "How could someone--"

"Where is he now?" Dumbledore interrupted him mildly.

"In the library."

"...I meant Mr. Georges."

"Waiting for the train."

"Suspended, or expelled?"

"I told him you'd review his case next term."

"Good." Albus hesitated. "Of course, he'll probably have the Dark Mark by then."

"I know. Of course I know. Any we throw out, we throw to the wolves. But what choice do we have? Throw them to the wolves, or breed monsters right here in the school. Send children to death and dishonour, or--" he shrugged. There really wasn't much choice.

"I don't know if I'd have been able to do it," Dumbledore admitted. "Sacrifice one boy to save the other."

"I know. That's why I did it."

"I know. Thank you."

"I don't need you thanking me for being your worser angel," Snape said icily. "Don't forget, it comes easily to me."

Dumbledore looked at him sympathetically.

"I'd better go and make sure he's all right."

"Of course."

Draco was in the library, bent over his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.

Snape sat down across from him. "Mr. Malfoy."

"Professor," he said dully.

"Mr. Georges has been sent down for the rest of term."

"Great, that'll restore me to popularity." His quill scratched furiously against the parchment.

You didn't get to be a spy--or even a professor--without learning to read upside down. Snape saw that he was answering the question "What's the best way to ward off a harpy?" With "Who cares, the Dark Lord is going to kill us all anyway."

"Of course not. But if we make an example of him, the rest might back off."

He shrugged. "I don't care."

"Draco--" he began.

"What?" Draco snarled.

What had he been going to say? It would be all right? It wouldn't. He'd be kept safe? As safe as anyone could be, which wasn't very. "This will get worse before it gets better," he said finally.

"How comforting."

"I wasn't trying to be comforting," Snape denied. "Did you want to hear a comforting lie?"

"....No. Of course not."

Severus knew he had failed utterly at communicating anything of real importance. Instead he said "Concentration charm."

"What?"

"Number fourteen. To avoid being pixy-led. Concentration charm."

"Oh."

"Or you can turn your cloak inside out. One of those folk charms."

"Really? I don't think that's in the book."

Severus shrugged. It probably wasn't. "Good day, then."

#

In his afternoon class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, some would-be wag had written "Defense against Draco Malfoy" on the chalkboard.

He knew it was a Hufflepuff because, A: it was a stupid joke, and B: they all tittered when he walked in the room.

He took a seat on the Hufflepuff side of the room and ignored his Housemates as pointedly as they were ignoring him. Then he caught his name.

Bulstrode was saying "Of course Georges got expelled. Dumbledore always takes up for weak people. Longbottom, the Weasleys, the Mudbloods--it's no wonder he likes Malfoy now he's shown his true colours."

"Hey!" One of the Hufflepuffs turned in his seat. "Plenty of my friends are muggle-born. Don't lump--that--in with them!"

Great. Just great.

#

After a solitary evening in the library, Draco went down to his dormitory. He'd stayed up late, hoping most of the House would be in bed, but two fourth-years, a boy and a girl, were waiting by the entrance. He sighed. "Get out of my way."

He was surprised when they did. "Pure-blood," he said automatically.

"He's forgotten the new password," the girl said conversationally.

"Looks like he did," the boy agreed.

He had. Shit. Now he didn't have a lot of choice--he could speak the lie, or stand here looking like a total prat.

"Too bad we can't remind him."

"Muggle-lover Dumbledore would chuck us out."

He could sleep in the Great Hall. Wrapped up in his cloak under one of the tables.

If he that thought of that earlier, it might have been a good idea. But he couldn't back down now. "Draco Malfoy is a traitor," he told the wall.

It opened, and he strode into the common room.

He half expected to be attacked, but nothing happened. He was allowed to go to his room unmolested. The other three beds in the room had been shoved away from his.

Was he really supposed to be insulted by something so childish?

He got into bed, but sleep was a long time coming.

#