Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Severus Snape Lord Voldemort
Genres:
Drama
Era:
Harry and Classmates During Book Seven
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 01/06/2007
Updated: 01/06/2007
Words: 2,247
Chapters: 1
Hits: 862

True Colours

Fourth Rose

Story Summary:
After having failed to kill Dumbledore, Draco seems out of options. Set directly after HBP.

Chapter 01

Posted:
01/06/2007
Hits:
768


The floor was cold and clammy under Draco's knees. He kept his eyes on the stone slabs, his head bowed low. It should have felt humiliating, but he was past caring; anything was better than looking into those burning red eyes again. However, no show of humble servitude could spare him the sound of the high-pitched voice.

"It seems you failed to carry out your assignment, boy."

"Yes, my Lord." Draco didn't even try to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Do you remember the punishment for failing your master?"

Draco only managed a nod; he couldn't quite bring himself to proclaim his own death sentence. Not that it made any difference. Whether he said it out loud or not, he would die anyway.

"Severus, the boy was your charge. What do you think I should do with him?"

Draco gritted his teeth. Snape must have been waiting for this moment ever since he inserted himself, unbidden, into Draco's planning all those months ago, scheming and interfering and hell-bent on snatching the glory for himself under the pretence of wanting to help. He didn't have to worry about the fact that only Draco's success would secure the safety of his parents; what were Lucius and Narcissa to a man like Severus Snape, who clearly couldn't wait for the long years of licking Dumbledore's boots to be over? It made Draco almost physically ill to remember how he'd once trusted his Professor. God, what an idiot he had been!

"I am not sure, my Lord." Snape's deep voice, coming from somewhere to his left, startled Draco out of his thoughts. "I had to step in because he hesitated at the wrong moment, but overall, he has proven quite capable during the last year. Given his youth and inexperience, finding a way to give us access to the castle was a remarkable feat. He's still a bit squeamish, but that's just the result of years of pampering and can easily be remedied with proper training. He might yet prove useful to you."

The Dark Lord chuckled deep in his throat, a sound that made Draco's hair stand on end. His thoughts were racing; what was Snape playing at?

"Is that so, Severus? It seems to me that you're more concerned about the use he could be to you. He's quite pretty, is he not?"

For a moment, Draco was afraid that he was going to be sick right there at the Dark Lord's feet. He had been plagued by nightmarish visions of his eventual punishment ever since he'd watched Dumbledore die at Snape's hands, but somehow, that hadn't been part of it.

"Quite so, my Lord." Snape's voice was flat and devoid of any inflection; Draco was fervently glad that he couldn't see his face right now.

Voldemort chuckled again. "Very well, Severus. You did me no small service tonight, after all. If you think I should keep the pup alive for the time being, I shall consider it. However, if he proves useless after all, I will hold you personally responsible."

"I will make sure he doesn't, my Lord."

"See that you do, Severus. On you feet, boy."

Draco scrambled up from the floor, careful to keep his eyes on the stone slabs. Voldemort gave a hiss like a snake ready to strike, and Draco felt cold, bony fingers grab his chin, forcing his head up. "Look at me, you whimpering little coward. Let's see..."

Draco suddenly felt as if tendrils of something dark and foul were twisting themselves around his brain. He had no other choice than to look into the Dark Lord's eyes, stone-cold and dead like a snake's, and desperately fought to regain his composure before it was too late.

Empty your thoughts, Draco - build walls around your mind, don't let anyone in...

He remembered Aunt Bella's voice as she'd whispered these words to him, over and over, until she was satisfied that he'd learned everything she'd been able to teach him. Empty your thoughts... He must never see your doubts, your fear, your uncertainty - must never learn that just for a split second, you were ready to accept Dumbledore's offer, back there on that tower. The voice in his mind had changed; it was no longer Bellatrix, but his mother who was speaking to him, urging him to hide his shameful, dangerous secret, a secret that would mean certain death not just for him, but for his parents as well. Empty your thoughts... the horror, the remorse, the revulsion, let go of it, make it disappear...

Of course, it was a hopeless endeavour; Draco was quite good at Occlumency, but his strength was no match for the most powerful Legilimens alive. He began to tremble as he looked into the pitiless red eyes and knew for certain that he would never be able to hide anything from them -

Don't think about it. Focus, focus on something, anything safe. Remember that night on the tower, but don't think about Dumbledore. Think about something else... think about -

Potter. Draco had no idea how he'd kept the presence of mind to remember the second broom he'd seen on the platform, and to suddenly realize that it could only mean one thing. Potter had been there, probably hidden by the Invisibility Cloak which Draco had known Potter possessed ever since that incident in their third year. He'd been there to witness Draco's failure and humiliation, just as he'd always been there during the most miserable moments of Draco's life.

Draco felt a surge of pure, all-consuming hatred well up inside him and reached for it like a drowning man for a lifeline. Hating Potter was second nature to him, having done it obsessively for six years - this was familiar, this was easy... Focus, Draco, focus on him, on everything he's done to you, think of nothing else -

In his mind, Draco saw Slytherin's green and silver flags being turned into Gryffindor's red and gold, Potter's smirking face over the fluttering wings of the snitch in his hand, Potter gloating over Father's imprisonment, Potter with his wand pointed at him, Potter leaving him in a pool of his own blood on the bathroom floor, Potter, Potter, Potter...

Draco held on to every image, flinging himself into the memories, and hated, hated, hated -

He saw something flicker in Voldemort's red eyes, and all of a sudden, the intrusion in his mind was gone. The cold fingers let go of his chin, and Draco realized only now that he'd been gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw hurt. He couldn't bring himself to relax his posture, though; he still didn't know what the Dark Lord had seen.

Voldemort's reptile-like face twisted into what must been meant to be a smile. "There is some fire in you after all, boy. I think I have found the perfect task for you to redeem yourself."

Draco took a deep breath. He'd be spared, then; for the moment, at least, but it was more than he would have expected. "I - I live to serve you, my Lord."

"Of course you do. Here's your task, one that should suit you well enough. I want you to kill the Potter boy for me." Before Draco could react, the Dark Lord pointed his wand at him with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Oh, and just a reminder, my boy, to keep you from failing me again - Crucio."

+++

Draco stiffened when the door of his tiny room opened to reveal Severus Snape standing on the threshold.

"Professor."

Snape inclined his head. "Draco. I'm glad to see you are recovered."

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, careful not to think about the lingering pain that Voldemort's curse had left behind. "What are you doing here?"

Snape took a step towards him; Draco involuntarily backed away, the memory of the Dark Lord's words to Snape all too clear in his mind. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Snape's expression clouded. "Oh, for the love of - I'm not here because I have designs on your virtue, you idiot boy! I need to talk to you."

"What about?" Draco hadn't intended to sound so defensive; it meant giving away another weakness.

"Draco", Snape said with a strange kind of urgency, "after everything that has happened during the last days, I'd have expected you to finally accept that I'm on your side."

It was all Draco could do not to clench his hands into fists. How stupid did Snape really think he was? "If you truly are, you'd best leave me alone to finish my preparations. I'm supposed to leave at midnight, and I must be ready then."

"Ready to go after Potter?"

"You heard the Dark Lord's order just as well as I did."

"And you really think you can afford to refuse my help?"

Draco whirled around, his eyes blazing. "You want to help me? Like you did last time? By shoving me aside to weasel yourself back into the Dark Lord's good graces?"

Snape didn't reply. His face was stony, but he kept fixing Draco with a glare that forced him to look away. "Look, Professor, if you really want to help me, make sure my mother is safe while I'm gone."

To Draco's surprise, Snape nodded slowly. "I'll do what I can. However, I'm fairly sure she's safe for the time being. The only thing that would endanger her would be your return to report another failure."

"Or my failure to return at all," Draco added bitterly.

Snape seemed to hesitate for a split second. "That's something I'm not so sure about."

Draco stared at him. "What are you saying? That I should go and let Potter kill me?"

Again, Snape didn't answer. The silence grew heavy as Draco stared at him, his mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts. He wants to get rid of me, I've known it all along. - But if he wanted that, he'd have encouraged the Dark Lord to kill me instead of talking him out of it! - There's something he's not telling me, something he wants from me. Something that includes my mother -

His thoughts were finally interrupted by Snape's voice; it sounded strangely intense when he asked, "Do you really think you could kill Potter?"

Draco did his best to sneer at him. "Of course I can."

Snape's gaze seemed to drill holes into Draco's skull. "You weren't able to kill Dumbledore."

"I didn't spend six years hating him with every fibre of my being."

"So you think killing Potter will be easy?"

There was something in Snape's tone that gave Draco pause. "You think it won't?"

You're not a killer, Draco. No, not that memory right now!

"I think that in dangerous times like these, Draco, one should always consider the consequences of one's actions, not just the incentives. Don't you agree?"

Consequences. If Draco killed Potter, he would rid the Dark Lord of his most persistent enemy and remove the one person who could still hold Dumbledore's supporters together now that the old man was dead. With Potter gone, any further resistance would eventually crumble. The Dark Lord would triumph over his enemies, and Draco, who had handed him his victory on a silver platter...

...would have served his purpose. What does one do with a tool that is no longer needed?

Draco stared at his former teacher, Voldemort's right-hand man, stared as if he'd never seen him before - and felt some piece he'd been overlooking all this time fall into place, leaving him with an image that turned everything he'd believed in until now upside down.

Snape gave him the tiniest of nods. "I repeat, do you really think you can kill Potter?"

We can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban...

The man who'd made this offer to him was dead. However - there was someone else who might have heard it. Someone Draco hated with a passion, but he realized with a sinking feeling that hating Potter might be a luxury he would no longer be able to afford.

Draco did not allow himself to ponder what it would mean to throw himself at Potter's mercy. A few days ago, even thinking about that kind of humiliation would have seemed impossible to bear - but a lot had happened in the meantime.

The Dark Lord held the lives of Draco's parents in his hand; thus he'd made sure he could force Draco into submission for as long as he lived.

As long as he lived... as long as Voldemort knew him to be alive.

Draco squared his shoulders. He still wasn't quite sure what Snape's role in this deadly game was, but since Snape had lowered his guard just the tiniest fraction, he was willing to risk the same. "I don't know if I really could kill Potter - but I think I can die trying."

Snape exhaled deeply; it almost sounded like a relieved sigh. "I'm glad to see that you finally learned to do what is wise, not just what is easy." He held out his hand. "Good luck to you, Draco."

With a cautious nod, Draco took Snape's hand. "To both of us, Professor."

FIN