Worser Angels

Chapter Eight

An Encounter With the Ministry

Over the next few days, Draco attempted to catch up with his classes while deflecting fresh hostility from Slytherin House. The other Houses were less antagonistic; apparently a week of rumours that he had been killed by Death Eaters had done much to dispel the suspicion that he was secretly a Dark wizard. Snape was to be found lurking nearby whenever Draco's daily activities took him out from under the watchful eyes of the other teachers. He took to dragging Draco out of earshot of the other students to inquire anxiously after his well being, and twice assigned him detention apparently for the express purpose of keeping Draco where he could see him.

Snape used the time to coach him through some of the lessons he'd missed, so it wasn't as though he was actually being punished. But it would have been intensely annoying if Draco had had anywhere better to be.

It was on one of these occasions that an owl swooped in through one of the dungeon's high windows and landed on Professor Snape's desk. He scanned the note clutched in the owl's beak, and threw it in the fire. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see us."

"What for?"

"Cup of cocoa and a chat," Snape said tersely.

"Maybe he wants to talk about your unjust imprisonment of me."

"Oh, be quiet. We'd best go."

Once they were settled in a pair of chintzy armchairs, Dumbledore said, "I've had a talk with your solicitors, Mr. Malfoy."

"What for?"

"Your estate is in a bit of disorder. Under the terms of the entail, you won't have control of your property until age twenty-five. But your father neglected to name a trustee."

That made sense, as he never expected to die. "So what happens now?"

"You'll nominate a trustee, and the Ministry will approve your choice."

"Professor Snape, then," he said immediately. Snape was the only adult of his acquaintance who seemed to have both a desire to protect his interests and the ability to do so.

"No," Snape said quickly. "I would suggest Dumbledore. Not only will the Ministry approve him more readily, but I won't be able to evict the Dark Lord and his supporters from your house. He will."

"Oh." He had an image in his mind of Dumbledore pounding on the doors to the Manor and piling Voldemort's belongings on the kerb. He'd seen evictions on television. "How will you do that?"

"As a law-abiding citizen, you're entitled to have the Department of Magical Law Enforcement remove trespassers from your property. We'll make sure it's leaked that I've ordered it done, and he'll remove himself."

Draco wasn't sure it would be that easy. "You think he'll just go, because you've told him to?"

"He is technically still in hiding," Snape put in.

"They could just sneak in and kill him," Draco suggested. "I wouldn't mind."

"Remind me to have a talk with you about military strategy," Snape murmured. "Attacking him in a well-fortified headquarters would be....unwise. Besides, he isn't there all the time. Staging a stealth assault on the Manor only to get a handful of low-level Death Eaters would be foolish."

He was chastened. "Oh, right."

"But getting him out of the Manor would deprive him of a convenient, isolated meeting place, which can only be a good thing," Dumbledore said.

"Not that he doesn't have plenty of other places to go," Snape added, "But not even his most ardent supporters wish actually to live with him. I expect his eviction will create some dissent in the ranks. Also, and this is not a minor consideration, it is a move that will make your loyalties clear. If Voldemort remains in the Manor, it will be difficult for you to shake of rumors that you've remained on his side. You don't want to go through life with such a reputation around your neck."

"No," Draco agreed. "What else do we have to do? With my estate, I mean." Restoring his reputation was another subject entirely.

"Your solicitors will take care of most of the details. Yours trustee will periodically review their activities. You'll be welcome to review them as well, but authority for all major decisions will rest with your trustee until you're of age."

Dumbledore wasn't saying "with me,"--for which Draco was grateful. He was less than pleased about having to give up authority over what was, after all, his property, and if he had to, he still wished it could be Snape. "What about...money?"

"Funds to maintain the manor and the other properties, as well as for any other legitimate expenses--such as your school fees-- will be paid out from the trust. You'll also receive a quarterly allowance, which you can expect to increase substantially when you're out of school." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You won't have to come to me for your pocket money."

"That sounds all right," he agreed, glancing over at Snape. "If you're sure..."

"Yes," Snape said. "Dumbledore is by far the best choice. Your father's solicitors are the only other choice, and I am not, shall we say, entirely convinced that they would have your best interests in mind."

"Okay, then. What about school holidays? Am I allowed to rattle around the Manor by myself with the house-elves?" He wasn't sure he'd want to, even if he was allowed.

"Probably not. We'll have to decide what's safe. Ordinarily someone in your situation would stay with a relative, but you have very few surviving relatives, and most of them are Death Eaters."

"Yes, I know."

"You might stay with Severus, of course," Dumbledore continued, "If his duties for the Order don't make that unwise."

Snape was studying his cocoa cup as though its floral decorations concealed a secret message.

"That would be okay," Draco said. Holidays with Snape would probably include more studying than Draco really thought necessary, but other than that it wouldn't be so bad. Draco was beginning to suspect that he had something that might be considered a sense of humor, and if no one was around to report his actions back to the Death Eaters, he'd probably keep the shoving and other violence to a reasonable minimum. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

"Of course, if we decide Hogwarts won't be safe, it will be necessary to make other arrangements," Snape said severely.

#

Settling Draco's estate didn't go as smoothly as Dumbledore had predicted, or as Severus had hoped. The Ministry decided it would be necessary to question him again before releasing the Malfoy property. Severus wasn't about to send him off on his own--not after what had happened the last two times Draco left the castle--so he and Draco had to leave school early on Tuesday morning and report to the Ministry. Draco, looking unusually pale and drawn, refused breakfast, saying, "I just want to get this over with."

"No use being early," Severus told him. "We'll just have to wait."

Draco sighed and bit his lip.

"They won't find anything. You haven't done anything." He wished he could say Draco had nothing to worry about, but Severus knew that actual innocence was not as strong a defense as it ought to have been.

"They already know that from before," Draco reminded him. "They wouldn't be calling me in again if they didn't have something up their sleeves."

He had a point.

They floo'd into the Ministry a few minutes before eight. The thronging crowds around the grates edged away from them and stared, but Severus ignored them, and instructed Draco to do the same. Having spent considerable time at the Ministry, he had little difficulty finding the right place, and soon they were in a small interview room, where Draco sat on one side of a plain wooden table, facing three chairs. Severus stood behind him, by the door. Draco was entitled to have a parent, guardian, or representative thereof present while he was questioned; if they wanted him out, they would have to throw him out.

A few minutes after eight, two wizards and a witch filed in and took the seats facing Draco. The witch uncorked a vial of Veritaserum and placed it in front of him. "Drink."

Draco obeyed.

One of the wizards took out parchment, ink, and a quill, and the other wizard said, "We will begin."

Draco nodded.

"State your name and occupation, for the record."

"Draco Malfoy. I go to school. Hogwarts."

"What are your parents' names?"

"Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."

"Known Death Eaters," the wizard pointed out. "Have you ever seen Lord--the wizard known as the Dark Lord?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Malfoy Manor."

"Have you spoken to him?"

"I've been presented to him. I may have said hello or something."

"And you claim that is the extent of your association with him?"

Draco hesitated a long time before replying. "Yes."

Severus knew what they were doing. They hadn't asked if that was the extent of Draco's involvement. So he hadn't said, under the truth serum, that it wasn't. "Wait just a--"

"You will be silent, Mr. Snape," the wizard said, sounding as if his name were something filthy.

Draco turned to look at him.

"You will direct your attention to us, Mr. Malfoy. Are you familiar with the so-called Unforgivable Curses?"

"Yes."

Of course he was. The so-called Moody had taught them in class.

"Have you ever used or attempted to use any of them?"

Snape held his breath.

"Yes."

"Did you succeed?"

"No."

Snape exploded, "You have to ask him--"

"You will be silent!" The wizard continued. "Do you know the current location of Lord Voldemort?"

"I might."

"Let the record show that the prisoner--excuse me, the interviewee--is resisting questioning."

He was not. The wizard's questions allowed only yes-or-no answers. The serum, in addition to requiring him to speak the truth, wouldn't allow him to answer anything that hadn't been asked.

"Where is Lord Voldemort?" the wizard tried again.

"He might be at the Manor."

"By 'the Manor' you mean--"

"Malfoy Manor. In Wiltshire."

"Why do you think he is at Malfoy Manor?"

Finally, a question that would allow Draco to elaborate.

"Because while my father's estate is in legal limbo, no one has the authority--or the desire, apparently--to throw him out."

He meant the Ministry didn't have the desire, obviously, but his answer could be taken another way.

"Why did you nominate Albus Dumbledore as trustee for your father's estate?"

It was a valid question: Dumbledore and the Malfoys had never exactly been on the best of terms. If Draco answered this question carefully, he could clear a lot of things up.

"Because Professor Snape told me to."

Damn, damn, damn.

"This would be 'Professor' Severus Snape, son of the known Death Eaters Alberta and Maledictus Snape, and suspected Death Eater himself?"

"I don't know his parents' names."

"Let the record show that the subject is resisting questioning. Again. Mr. Malfoy, do you always do what Professor Snape tells you to do?"

There was no way under heaven he could answer that question without incriminating himself. Severus bit his tongue, hoping he'd at least manage to answer it in one of the less incriminating ways. "Most of the time," would be all right, for example.

But he said, "Yes."

"Are you aware of Mr. Snape's activities with the organization known as the Death Eaters?"

That question was too carefully phrased to be accidental. He hadn't asked if Draco knew Severus was a Death Eater. Draco knew he wasn't. And so did whoever had prepared these questions.

"Yes," Draco said. The only thing he could say.

They were deliberately asking questions to which honest answers would sound incriminating. That was the only possible explanation.

But why?

"And yet you continue to trust him?"

"With my life." Draco's answer was strangled, as if this time he really was trying to resist the Veritaserum.

The wizard didn't comment on it this time. "You trust Professor Snape, an individual with known ties to Lord Voldemort," he pressed.

"...yes."

"Have you associated with other Death Eaters, beyond Professor Snape and your parents?"

Of course he had. Parkinson, Goyle, Nott, and Zabini, for starters, not even counting his father's associates.

"Yes."

"So you admit to ties with the Death Eaters?"

In the context the questioner had just established, Draco would have to admit he did.

Snape took a step forward. "I object. These questions are insinuating and foul. You--"

"Silence. You have been warned twice, Mr. Snape. You will leave this chamber immediately or face arrest."

He considered the options for a few seconds. Dumbledore would get him out quickly, if he were arrested. But anything could happen to Draco in the interim. He left.

And paced the hallway for an hour, then two, before Draco finally came out. He wouldn't say what else they had asked, but Severus could tell he had been crying.

Bastards.

"They said they'd owl my solicitor with their decision," he said dully. "But I think I can guess what it'll be."

"We can appeal their decision," Severus told him. "If the rest of the questions were similar to what I heard, that wasn't anything like a fair interview." It was a lynching. "There will be plenty of grounds for appeal."

"Who needs to be fair when you're on the side of Light?" Draco asked sarcastically. "I'll be out on the street inside of a week."

"I'll see that you're taken care of. If the worst happens." Snape suspected they had something planned other than simply taking away his estate, but he couldn't guess what.

"I don't want charity. Even from you. Let's just go home."

They went. But in the Ministry lobby, between them and the fireplaces, was a knot of reporters. Snape recognized credentials from the Prophet, some of the weeklies, two wireless stations, and even the Quibbler. He paused, holding Draco back.

Draco saw them. "Oh shit. I don't want--Professor..."

"Just hold your head up, and don't say a single word. No matter what they say first. Understand?"

Draco swallowed hard, and nodded.

As they walked past, the reporters crowded against them, shouting questions.

"Draco, care to tell us your side of the story?"

"Is it true you're the youngest Death Eater on record?"

"What will you do after you lose your fortune?"

"Care to comment on rumors that you'll have to leave Hogwarts?"

"Your father's killed hundreds of people. How do you--"

They reached the fireplace. Severus swept Draco into his arm, threw in a pinch of floo powder, and shouted "Hogwarts!"

They stumbled out of the grate and into the entrance hall, which was, thankfully, empty.

"I'm--sorry," Snape said. Sorry you had to go through that. Sorry the only person you trust in the world is considered Death Eater scum. Sorry the world is such an unfair place.

"I know," Draco said. "Do I...I just want to go lie down."

He had three lessons yet that day, but Severus nodded. "Go to the hospital wing. I'll check on you later."

#

The next morning, Draco had to face his classmates at breakfast. He sat with the Gryffindors again. They apparently saw he was in no mood to be trifled with, and left him alone.

The post came with nothing for him, as usual. Snape was intercepting his hate mail. Granger unrolled her Daily Prophet. "Oh dear. Malfoy--"

"He looked up from the piece of toast he was staring at. "What?"

She showed him the headline. "Ministry Decides Fate of Death Eater Fortune." A picture showed him, arm-in-arm with Snape, scuttling past a phalanx of reporters. His photographic self was hiding its face under its cloak. The sub-head read, "Malfoy heir admits ties with He Who Must Not Be Named; Use of Unforgivable Curses."

"What's it say? They didn't tell me--" Sure they wouldn't let him find out he'd lost his home through the press?

Stupid question.

Granger scanned the articled. "Admitted having been 'presented' to Dark Lord, attempting use of Unforgivable Curse. Arrived for his interview escorted by notorious Dark wizard Severus Snape. Said he would trust Snape 'with my life."" She glanced up. "I'm not sure that's wise."

"I am." The slur against Snape made him want to throw things. "Go on. Please," he added hurriedly.

"Believes Dark Lord to be in residence at Malfoy Manor...admits psychiatric hospitalization...made allegations of physical and mental cruelty against Lucius Malfoy...'Unfortunately, we were not able to substantiate charges of treason,' says Ministry official." Granger looked up again. "All insinuations and unnamed sources. Typical. There's a sidebar-- 'Several Hogwarts students speak out on condition of anonymity.'"

"I don't want to know."

Granger scanned the column. "No, you don't," she agreed. "Well, if Dumbledore says you haven't done anything, that's good enough for me. After what they wrote about Harry last year, I wouldn't trust anything that the Prophet said." She folded up the paper and put it in her bag.

"Too bad you don't work for the Ministry."

In the middle of Herbology, an owl swooped in and landed on the Baleful Bonsai in front of Professor Sprout. "Shoo! Shoo!" She lifted it off the tiny tree and unrolled the message from its leg. "Mr. Malfoy, you're to report to the Headmaster's office. Take your things."

Wordlessly, Draco packed up his bag and left the greenhouse. After the day he'd been having, he was glad enough to leave. The article had apparently convinced many of the students to reevaluate their belief that he might not be a Dark wizard, and the Slytherins took to quoting the article at him when the teachers weren't looking.

When he arrived at the Headmaster's office, Snape was there, and so was the wizard who had interrogated him the day before.

Just great.

Draco sat down next to Snape. "Well?" he demanded. "Let's get it over with, then."

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said. "This is Investigator Barker."

"We've met." Although he hadn't been granted the courtesy of an introduction yesterday.

Barker cleared his throat. "I'm sure you thought my questions yesterday were unfair."

"That wasn't the word I had in mind, actually."

"You'll be pleased to know that I have complete confidence in your loyalty to our side."

Really? Draco didn't. He was loyal to himself, and (as he had been forced to admit yesterday) to Snape. The side hadn't done much for him.

"But if that knowledge becomes public, you see, Voldemort would lose interest in you. If he thinks your loyalties are up for grabs, so to speak, he might move to gain your confidence. That could provide a valuable opportunity for our side, don't you agree?"

"You're talking about using him as a stalking horse," Snape said quietly. Draco knew that tone. Did Barker realize how much trouble he was in?

Barker looked as though he would like to stop the Professor from speaking again, but (fortunately for his continued existence) recognized in time that he had no authority to say who could and couldn't speak in Dumbledore's territory. "Well...that's one way of putting it."

"You'll not," Snape said flatly.

"And why not?"

"Because I forbid it," he spat.

"Excuse me? As far as I know, you're no relation to the boy, and in no position to forbid anything. No matter what top-secret services you may have provided for the Ministry in the past." He smirked at Snape and then turned a winning smile at Draco. "Wouldn't you like to be a hero, Draco?"

The Order didn't need a hero; that position was already taken. What they wanted was for Draco to put his life and reputation on the line in return for the reward of being kicked in the teeth in public on a regular basis. "What? Like 'Notorious Death Eater Severus Snape'? I think not."

"You'll refuse to help our side?" The smile faltered.

"If Lord Voldemort--" he hit the name hard "--moves to 'gain my confidence,' I'll tell him to bugger off. As I'm telling you. If it comes the time our side needs warm bodies to throw against him, I'll do my bit like anybody else, but I won't get involved in this kind of dirty work. I've seen what it costs, and it's not worth it." He glanced at Snape, wondering if he'd be insulted.

But the Professor murmured, "Well said, Draco."

Barker started to answer, but Dumbledore's voice sliced across his. "Investigator, I can't be a party to any tactics that would put young Mr. Malfoy at risk." He looked at Snape. "I didn't know what he had planned, or I wouldn't have bothered calling you away from your classes."

Barker looked back and forth between Snape and Dumbledore. He obviously expected support from one or the other of them, but it was not forthcoming. "But..."

"Severus was an adult, and already in considerable peril by the time he began spying for the Order of the Phoenix. This situation is substantially different."

"What he means," Snape said harshly, "Is that I already had plenty of blood on my hands when I started working against Voldemort. The Death Eaters won't begin to trust Draco until he's killed at least five people. Why don't you pick which five, and then we'll talk."

"I didn't--I didn't--" Barker stammered.

"You're disgusting. Get out of here. And if you try to take away his estate, I'll tell the Prophet all about this conversation. Out!"

Barker, who had been backing toward the fireplace during this outburst, finally made it. "Headmaster--"

"Good-day, Investigator." When the man had disappeared into the fireplace, he continued, "I really didn't know, Severus."

"I believe you. Fool," he growled.

Draco was a little pleased to be defended so vocally, but also felt a bit left out of the conversation. So he spoke up. "Voldemort's already recruiting people my age. Maybe he didn't think--"

"We," Snape said icily, "Are ostensibly on the good side. There's a higher standard." Snape shook his head, and said in what was, for him, a gentle tone, "There will be those who feel that you owe the Ministry some service--but you don't. And you did very well. 'I'll do my bit like anybody else'--that was brilliant. You can bet Galleons to gallstones they wouldn't ask that of anybody else's son."

"Malfoy's son, you mean," Dumbledore said softly.

Snape gave him a look. "Of course."

#

Lunch was already in progress when he and Snape made it down to the Great Hall. Draco took what was becoming his usual seat with the Gryffindors.

After a moment's hesitation, Longbottom asked him, "What did Professor Dumbledore want with you?"

"A man from the Ministry was here to see me." It was his turn to hesitate. "And offer me the opportunity to spy for the Order. I refused."

"Why?" Potter demanded. "I should think it's the least you could do."

"I told you before--I'd like to live through my schooldays. Spying against Voldemort would not further that ambition."

"Some things are more important than saving your miserable hide."

"Snape said something like that once," Draco recalled. "Only he said defeating Voldemort wouldn't be worth it at some costs." And the cost that wasn't worth it was him. How thrilling.

"Typical," Potter said in disgust.

Draco just shrugged. "Personally, I'm in favor of anyone who's against deliberately setting me up to get killed."

"You would be."

"The ancient and noble house of Malfoy is in need of a new motto," he said cheerfully. "Maybe it'll be 'We don't wanna die.'" Then he frowned. "Hold on. That's Voldemort's kink, isn't it?"

"It is?"

"Yeah. Gain power over all beings, never die." He ticked them off on his fingers. "'Vol' means either 'flight' or 'theft,' 'de' meaning 'of,' and 'mort' is of course death. Don't you people know any French?"

"Us people?" Weasley said dangerously.

"...Gryffindors, I mean. Anyway, we'll make it 'We don't wanna die young.' Since the good-looking corpse is assured no matter what."

Weasley and Longbottom looked at him quizzically.

"Muggle saying," he explained. "'Live fast, die young, leave a good looking corpse.' Lydia--a friend of mine--used to say it." In fact she had claimed it was her personal philosophy. He had become quite strident in arguing that she was an idiot.

She had never seen death.

"You have no idea how weird it is to hear you quoting muggles."

"On the contrary." He knew exactly how weird it was. He smiled faintly. "Father'd have an aneurysm, though."

"I still don't trust you," Potter said.

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't care if you do or not. I've been honest about my priorities." He wasn't, however, being entirely honest now. He didn't care about Potter specifically, but being roundly despised by most of the wizarding world was more than a little wearing.

"But you aren't really against Voldemort."

"I want to live a normal life. I don't see how that's possible for anyone until Voldemort's defeated. So that that extent, I'm against him."

"But you're too much of a coward to actually fight him."

Draco refused to rise to the bait. "Surely you've noticed by now that sixteen year old boys who aren't the famous Harry Potter haven't had much luck fighting against him."

Potter went pale. "That's not--" He pushed his plate away.

"Way to go, Malfoy," Weasley said.

"That's really not fair," Granger agreed.

"Only if Diggory's life is assumed, a priori to be worth more than mine," Draco said tightly. "I happen to believe that being born a Malfoy is not a blot that can be erased only through martyrdom."

Weasley pointed out, "You've been giving us grief about our families for years. Now all of the sudden you say it doesn't matter?"

For a moment, Draco thought he was sunk. "I've changed my mind," would not be a convincing argument. Then he remembered something Snape had said. He could win--it would cost him something, but everything cost.

He said patiently, "Yes, and I was being an ass. You're supposed to be the good guys. Shouldn't there be a higher standard?"

Weasley goggled at him.

Victory was sweet.