Snakes and Lions Extended Ending

Defining Parameters

Draco left Harry and Hermione inside the Entrance Hall, and headed down to Snape's rooms. There, he found Snape sitting at his desk and frowning at piece of parchment.

"Professor Snape?" Draco asked tentatively.

"Hm?"

"What should I call you?"

Snape looked up. He frowned for a moment. "As a child," he said thoughtfully, "you called me Severus, as if I was an uncle or older cousin." He considered the matter a moment. "I do not object to you calling me by my given name in private, but if you call me that in class, I will discipline you. You might find it easier to consistently address me as a professor, until you leave school."

"I'll keep that in mind." Draco scowled, remembering that morning's Potions class. "Why did you give me detention, today?"

"Because you interfered with another student's work."

"But I do that all the time!"

Snape looked up sharply. "Mr. Malfoy," he said firmly, "you have gotten away with a great many things in my class, while I was courting favor with your father. As there is no longer any point to that activity, you will find things greatly changed -- as will a number of your classmates."

"I thought you liked me!" Draco complained.

"I do like you. I am very nearly as fond of you as if you were my own son." Snape's mouth curved in a thin smile. "Consequently, I will try to teach you an adequate amount of discipline in the short time you have left at this school. You are a clever pupil, but a rather spoiled young man."

Draco drew his breath in with a hiss. "As you wish, sir." He threw himself down on the couch. "Are you planning to dispute custody of me with Mother, try to get her to agree to you supervising me, or just keep me here illegally?"

"Narcissa and I have been on good terms since shortly after Voldemort's first fall. I plan to start with negotiating."

"Should we coordinate, then? I need to discuss matters with her as well."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I think whether or not Father is permitted to disinherit me will depend on whom Mother sides with."

"And you believe she may side with you?"

Draco ignored the faint scorn in his professor's voice. "If I can persuade her that whomever she chooses will win, it is just a matter of persuading her that I am more reasonable than Father."

"Reasonable?"

"Biddable, perhaps." Draco smiled. "Complacent."

"I see."

"Please don't mention Harry."

Snape put down the parchment and began to drum his fingers on the tabletop. "I have already reported that you had become friendly with Harry Potter, as it seemed he -- they -- would have this news from several others. Is there anything further to report?"

"Not yet."

"Girls who are friends will sometimes hold hands. Boys who are friends do not."

Draco looked down. "Understood. Please ... let me tell Mother what I choose, when I choose. I'm not intending to keep it from her, just ...."

"As you wish," Snape said sarcastically.

"I also need to discuss things with some of my cousins. Is your fireplace connected? That would work better than owls."

"My grate has a lock that must be specifically overridden to connect outside of the school. May I be here for these discussions?"

"That would probably be best."

Snape looked pleased. "Very well, then. Before dinner, after your detention, or tomorrow?"

"Isabelle before dinner, I think. I may wait till tomorrow for Mother. May I be here when you speak with her?"

Snape nodded. "Certainly." He sneered slightly. "Don't expect to be pleased with everything you hear."

Draco held his gaze steadily. "I would like to please you, sir," he said, "but the important thing is to know my parameters."

"Yes." Snape returned his attention to the parchment. "You please me," he commented distantly. "Lucius's guile, without some of his more objectionable fixations, and Potter seems to have charmed off the bulk of your ungoverned malice. Overall, you are maturing quite nicely." He made a few marks on the parchment, and then looked up. "Shall I open the Floo, now?"

**********

When Harry and Hermione reached Gryffindor tower, Ron was waiting for them.

"I'd like to talk," he said. "Someplace private." He turned to Hermione. "I think this is enough a matter of House discipline that your room would be all right -- I mean, no one who knew could say it was improper."

Somebody nearby snickered.

"Talk to me?" Hermione asked. "Or to both of us?"

"Both."

Harry looked at Ron, but Ron was avoiding meeting his gaze. Harry sighed. "Let's get it over with," he said, and marched off to Hermione's room.

Once they were there, and the door shut, Ron rounded on Harry. "Imperius!" he hissed accusingly.

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door. He was dismayed to notice that Ron flinched at the motion.

"Obscura Totum." He turned back to Ron. "You can yell, now."

Ron seemed rather taken aback by Harry giving permission. Hermione stood by her desk, watching carefully and absently worrying at her lower lip.

Ron drew together enough composure to take Harry at his word.

"Imperius!" he repeated. "What are you playing at? It's one thing for you to go running off with that ... Slytherin, but I won't have you messing around with Dark Arts!" He paused to let out a shaky breath. "Unforgivables! You know any more?" he asked angrily. "Have you been studying this on us all year?"

Harry steepled his hands in front of his face, then parted them to rub at his temples. At the look of horror on Ron's face, he recognized that he had mimicked a gesture of Snape's, and quickly put his hands down at his sides.

"I have done three Dark Arts curses --" he began, but Ron cut him off there.

"A particular Three?" he asked pointedly.

Harry clenched his fists. "Control Spirit, the Bone-Burning curse, and the Imperius curse," he answered, as evenly as he could manage.

"And Snape taught you," Hermione said quietly, looking for confirmation.

"Snape taught me the Imperius curse, because I asked. Draco taught me Control Spirit because I asked, but that was a bit different, because it didn't occur to me that it was Dark Arts. That was when I was just becoming friendly with Draco, not recently. The Bone-Burning curse I just saw, and I demonstrated it for Snape when he asked."

"On what?"

Harry grinned. "A plucked chicken from the kitchens. It wasn't anything. Just a demonstration." A thrill of memory shot through him, belying his words, and he fought not to shiver. Hermione saw something she did not like, but Ron seemed somewhat reassured.

"Why Control Spirit?" Hermione asked tersely.

Harry rolled his eyes. "To get Moaning Myrtle to keep her stupid mouth shut."

Ron snorted in amusement.

"About what?" Hermione asked.

"Draco and I using the Chamber of Secrets."

Ron's eyes widened. "Using what?"

"That's where we've been meeting."

Ron was horrified. "Harry...."

"It's just a room, Ron!" Hermione said in exasperation. "Why the Imperius curse?" she asked, continuing her interrogation.

"You two make a rather good team, you know?" Harry pointed at Ron. "He's innocent and emotionally forceful, and you --"

"Harry, why?" Hermione snapped.

"To turn Nagini on the Death Eaters. I've been practicing on snakes. The Vipertooth was the first other creature I did."

"So legally ..." Hermione's brow furrowed, as she tried to work out the implications.

"Legally, the matter is ambiguous. Dumbledore doesn't want to give Fudge leverage to threaten me, so he left the matter out of his report." Harry fixed each of them with a hard stare. "My use of Imperius curse should not be repeated to anybody. Ron, if you need to wail to your mum about my corruption, confine yourself to the other two curses."

Ron bit his lip. His face was red, but he kept his voice nearly steady as he said:

"I won't say anything if you promise you won't do it again -- any Dark Arts."

"No."

Ron flinched. "What do you mean, 'no?'"

"I will not promise," Harry said coldly. The despair on Ron's face made him softened his tone. "I will do whatever I need to do to defeat Voldemort, Ron. If the Imperius curse will help me, I will cast it. If the Killing curse will help me, I will cast it."

"And Cruciatus?" Hermione goaded. "You could make a clean sweep of it."

"I can't cast Cruciatus," Harry confessed.

"Can't?"

"The Cruciatus Curse requires that you enjoy causing pain." Harry shook his head slightly. He knew that would require him to fundamentally change. "This is all risky, but that would destroy me."

"Imperius requires that you believe you should be obeyed."

Somehow, Harry was not surprised that Hermione knew this, when he had not.

"Guilty, I suppose," he said quietly. "At least, I can get there."

"And the Killing Curse?" Ron asked. "Maybe you couldn't cast that either. You don't like death."

"I expect the Killing curse requires only hatred beyond all thought. On the right target, I could do it easily." That, Harry reflected, had not been the most politic thing to say. He moved to take control of the conversation. "When you came to fetch me from the Potions lab --"

"You were frightening," Hermione completed.

"I was angry. You were interrupting. And I'd been working on the Imperius Curse. Draco is right, you see. It is different. You can get lost in Dark Arts. It's like a drug -- that power -- and Imperius itself -- everyone else is foolish, worthless...."

"He knew what you had been doing, didn't he?"

"Not immediately. But he felt me pull back when we saw the quiris. They are terrifying. You can't imagine ...."

"I thought they were darling."

"You hadn't spent the evening practicing Dark Arts."

"Oh." Hermione looked confused. "But Draco ...."

"Hadn't done any Dark Arts in over a month. The aura of it wears off, apparently."

"But the list from his father..."

"He'd been ignoring it. Of course, Snape realized that as soon as Horsyr told him about the meeting, and he gave Draco some stick about it. The last night before leaving, Draco was strung up on practicing all of them, and mad at me for studying the Imperius curse --"

"Why?" Ron asked.

Harry hesitated. He wasn't quite sure of this, himself. Part of it had been simply his secrecy, but.... "I think he had been staying away from it for me ... to please me. Not that he'd been getting any credit for it, because I had no idea he'd stopped using Dark Arts." Harry shrugged. "Well, not until he knew I'd started."

"Does Dumbledore know about Snape?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes."

"Then why is Draco with him? I mean, if Snape is going to have him do Dark Arts --"

"Snape had him practice his father's list so Draco wouldn't get in trouble with Lucius. He was afraid if Draco's neglect was obvious, that Lucius would hurt Draco -- perhaps even kill him." Harry sighed at their disbelief. "He's perfectly capable of it. You heard about the Decernenti."

"Yeah, but no one said what it was," Ron complained.

"The Sifting. It is the formerly common Wizarding practice of dropping babies off towers to confirm that they are magical," Hermione said succinctly.

"Dropping ...?"

"Like this," Harry said. "You drop the baby. If it levitates or apparates, or somehow saves itself, it's magical and you raise it. If it splats, maybe it wasn't, and you haven't wasted any time on it."

"The majority of magical babies don't survive it," Hermione added.

Ron goggled at them. "Draco's father did this to three of his kids?"

"Draco's father did this to all of his kids," Harry corrected. He made an annoyed sound at the expression on Ron's face. "I keep telling you how lucky you are, idiot. You have a family, and they're mostly sane, and they love you."

"But that's just ... normal."

"Very good. It's not me, or him, or Sirius, or Lupin, or Neville. I'd bet my fortune it's not Snape, and it's clearly none of the Death Eaters' children, because those people are not sane."

"Look," Ron started. He stopped, and just stared at Harry, his mouth working occasionally, as if trying to form words.

"Look, what?"

"Do you love him? Malfoy, I mean?"

Now it was Harry's turn to be silent. He went to the window and looked out. You jumped out the window! but then, when I marry...

"I think so," he said finally. "And I'm already thinking that I would have been better off letting it go."

*********

Draco peered out of the fire in his cousin Isabelle's drawing room and waited nervously for the maid to fetch her. It would be possible for her to attack him, but he trusted that Snape would protect him, if anything happened. When Isabelle appeared, however, she was alone, and her wand was not visible.

"Draco!" she exclaimed. "Are you safe? I heard about your father...."

"Yes, well, he was chasing me at the time," Draco told her. "I refused to become a Death Eater."

A wide grin broke out on the face that Draco was accustomed to seeing set in polite disinterest. Quickly, Isabelle brought her hand to her mouth and turned away.

"It's fine if you're pleased," Draco said. "I'm at Hogwarts. I won't tell anyone if you approve of my insubordination."

Isabelle turned back, still beaming. "Oh, Draco! I am so pleased. My little cousin is too good to waste on that nasty thing!"

"I nearly did it, you know," Draco said, embarrassed.

"Not nearly enough did, I think!" The words tumbled out muddled, her accent suddenly stronger than her careful words at his father's table, but Draco understood what she meant.

"Yes -- Anyway, I wanted to tell you my side of it, so you would know what people are talking about if Mother or anyone contacts you, and I also wanted to tell you about something else that happened, last week."

Quickly, Draco told her about his flight from the Death Eater meeting, and then about his father's misunderstanding and marriage plans for him and Marcella.

"So that's what that is about, if anyone advances the idea to you. I'm not the slightest bit interested, really ... but you know how Father gets. And if he gets acquitted, this time ... I don't think you should leave the girls there, anymore."

Isabelle nodded. She no longer looked pleased. "Thank you for telling me, Draco. I will discuss it with Marcella, of course."

"Of course," Draco agreed.

"May I contact you?"

"Not by floo -- this is a temporary connection. You can owl me, though -- just Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts, Scotland."

Draco had a brief impulse to note that she would be better off with him controlling the family fortune than with Lucius controlling it. He restrained himself. She knew that, he was sure; there was no reason to risk appearing manipulative.

"Good night, cousin," he said instead. "Keep in touch, whatever happens."

She smiled again, though it was a mere ghost of her earlier one.

"I will, dragonet."