Cun Lacoudhir

"Don't crawl to meet your maker on you own

We could be much closer than you know

If you'd just let me take you down and paint my face red,

Lick your bones

I'm already in you and I'm at home

Get used to me

Get used to me..."

-"Here Comes the Dog" by Floater

"Please hand me your wand."

Harry let out a short, nervous laugh. "Are you serious?" Harry demanded. Snape is probably just upset that his golden boy is now the laughing stock of the school... He snorted at the memory of Malfoy covered in food, glowering on the floor.

"I will not repeat myself again, Potter," Snape muttered, his voice strained through clenched teeth..

Harry knew he could get in trouble for participating in a fight at school, but something told him that this was not you standard detention punishment. It seemed... Personal.

"Professor Snape," Harry said in the most rational voice he could muster, his knees shaking with adrenaline. "Since you're no longer my Occlumency teacher, there really isn't any reason for me to be here other than for Potions, which I don't have until Wednesday. So I guess I'll just be-"

"Leaving? No, I'm afraid not," Snape said pointedly. Fierce determination made his features look all the more stark and menacing in the dim light of the classroom. "Not until I am completely satisfied."

Something about his tone, the way his eyes bored into Harry's skull made his blood quicken. His legs felt locked, arms full of water as his vision began to blur. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked indignantly, not about to show the fear that was slowly gripping his brain. Don't look in his eyes.

Don't look...

Someone was running. Blood on the hands...

Laughing.

Harry shook his head to clear the images. He looked back into those eyes, unreadable and remote. Nothing. "What...Professor..." Harry's voice came out in little more than a whisper, his head swimming. The hair on the back of his neck began to rise as his hand gripped his wand mechanically, depositing it into Snape's outstretched palm.

Smirking, Snape quickly pocketed it and turned his attention back to the boy. "I trust that you are fully aware of the events of this past year, the sacrifices that were made by many to keep you alive," Snape spoke, every word cutting. "Well, some more than others," he added with a smile.

Rage dissolved into fear as Harry glared up at the man before him, flexing his fingers and desperately trying to hold back the urge to put his fist through his face.

Pleased with the instant reaction this had caused, Snape's grin broadened. "Yes, as much as you would like to think the opposite, you life has created more destruction than not. But why should that amaze me?" he hissed, stepping closer. "You have never been one to care about the consequences of your actions, willfully putting others in danger so you can play the hero."

As Harry opened his mouth to protest, Snape pushed forward. "Oh, let me think. Malfoy started it, correct?" His face hardened as he looked at Harry. "You have always been so ready to place the blame anywhere other than where it is deserved. Never having to take the time to think before you act. Do you think that you're above the rest of us, Potter?"

Keeping his expression closed, the boy answered flatly. "No, I don't."

Without acknowledging his answer, Snape continued. "I don't feel the need to tell you why your little ordeal with Malfoy in the hallway was unacceptable. Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor, for your shocking lack of compassion for a fellow student."

Harry stared, mouth open. "Even though he started it? He punched me! What was I supposed to do? Give him a kiss?" Afraid that Snape was going to see what he really meant, his face reddened. Yeah, I would have loved to see what would have happened then.

Furrowing his brow, Snape's mouth curled at the edges."This, unfortunately, is the year it stops, Potter. You see, Dumbledore may be happy to play the doddering fool, allowing you to carry on as you always have. Reckless and too trusting in your abilities, I always said," he added smugly. "I have seen too much to place my trust easily, especially in an ignorant boy with no self-control. But there are those that feel I have greatly misjudged your character." He paused. "Those that feel you have qualities that go beyond the surface," Snape said uncomfortably. "That is why I am giving you a chance to prove me wrong, as much as it goes against my better judgement. If it were up to me, I would have never left our fate to such an arrogant, selfish-"

It was as if a dam broke loose in Harry, all of the pain screaming to make it's way out, tearing at his insides. "At least we agree on one thing," he snarled. "Dumbledore is a fool. A fool to trust you." Shaking with emotion, Harry felt his courage swell. Why not say it all now? He deserves it, the traitor...

"I know you always hated Sirius. That's why he got killed. You're a coward," he said heatedly, his voice lowering. "You can't even get past the fact that you got picked on. What do you think happens to everyone? To me? You think any of this has been easy for me?" Harry pressed forward, unafraid, Snape's wand making contact with the front of his sweater. Tears hovered in his eyes, and he didn't care. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Why don't you just do it? Do something! COME ON!" Harry's throat ached against the strain. "I know you want to hurt me, I've always known. Your little act doesn't convince me. I know who you are," he whispered, tilting his head and looking up at the shaken man before him. He felt so distant from the moment, his voice oddly clear through the haze. "Go ahead, do whatever you're going to do," he said quietly, resigned. "I stopped caring a long time ago..." Harry's eyes stung, but he didn't move.

They stood there in silence, eyes locked. Snape was standing so close to the boy that his wand arm was now pressed close to his chest, the tip of it digging into Harry. If it hurt him, he didn't show it. His resolve was set, and there was nothing the Professor could do to shake it.

Snape's narrowed eyes widened as he looked at the boy. He seemed distracted, far off, as if he was remembering something important. Harry saw a glimmer of pain creep into the hard, steely face as he watched him intently.

Harry couldn't understand what was going on inside this man he had always hated, this man that always seemed so one-dimensional, so cruel. For once, he sensed a conflict raging beneath his skin.

Yes, the darkness is deceiving, endless.

But he knew hurt when he saw it. It had become his speciality ever since he could remember.

"I..." Snape's voice trailed off, hoarse and broken. Harry had never seen him at a loss for words, and it startled him back into reality. He saw his eyes regain their focus as they looked down at the floor. Was this embarrassment? Was Professor Snape, one of the most formidable bullies in all of Hogwarts, embarrassed?

Straightening and clearing his throat, he removed his wand, tucking it into his robes in one swift movement. He tried again. "I have a favor to ask you, Potter. One of great importance," Snape said directly as he shoved Harry's wand back into his hand.

This sparked Harry's curiosity as he absentmindedly slipped his wand back into his pocket. He would have thought that it was a joke, save for the fact that it looked like Snape had just swallowed something very unpleasant.

"I am sure you are aware that Malfoy's father has been arrested, and is currently in Azkaban prison, along with the others that were apprehended that night?"

Harry gave a satisfied nod, trying not to laugh. Snape shot him an angry glare.

"Yes, well, the Malfoys are now in essence penniless, the Ministry having seized all of their possessions. And that leaves the young Mr. Malfoy in a strange predicament. It seems that his mother has become unstable, unfit to fulfill her parental duties. Which leads me to the present situation." Snape took a deep breath, apparently mustering courage to say something horribly difficult. Looking at Harry with all seriousness, he continued. "Apparently, Dumbledore saw it fit to leave him in my custody until further notice."

Harry snorted.

Snape straightened his shoulders and spoke menacingly. "Although this may amuse you, Potter, it won't be humorous for long. We have been informed that Malfoy has been privy to some important information. The nature of it is not currently known, but his safety is a concern. We are to know if anyone attempts an attack, or if he is contacted by his father or his associates."

"Does that include you?" Harry asked with a wry smile.

"No, Potter, that does not include me," he replied dismissively. "I am his guardian, and his welfare is now my business. This leads me to the task at hand. Malfoy has been cast in a somewhat unfavorable eye since the magical community learned of his father's actions. Most of his classmates are now his enemies, as you witnessed today."

Harry laughed outright. "So they all found out what an insufferable git he is? I could have told them that a long time ago. And how does this concern me?"

A grin slowly spread across the Professor's face. "I am not able to keep an eye on him as much as is needed. My current duties have become more time consuming, and we need someone his own age. Someone to gain his trust, become his friend."

Harry scoffed.

"And you thought what? That I was that person? Are you completely insane? We hate each other. Hate. Do you understand that word? We've been merrily at each other's throats for five years! You of all people know that. He would rather die than trust me..." He stopped, flustered beyond words.

Smirking to himself, Snape walked back to his desk and pulled out a stack of papers. His sudden good mood made Harry extremely nervous. He couldn't remember ever seeing him that way unless it meant great suffering on his part.

"Well, this should do it, Potter," he said as he shoved the papers into Harry's bewildered hands. "This is Malfoy's class schedule, along with some information that may come in useful when establishing your friendship. It is extremely important that he never learns of this, and that this information is kept confidential. If it is not, believe me, I will be the first to know. The punishments, I assure you, will be swift and severe," Snape stressed as he leaned in threateningly.

Harry looked down at the bundle in his hands. There were a thousand questions racing though at once. His mind could only form one. "Won't he know that something is off? I mean, he is hopelessly dim, but even Malfoy will know something's up. And why do I need his information? I already know all I have to. Arrogant. Check. Hates everyone except himself. Check. Heartless. Check. Soulless. Check."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Well, Mr. Potter, with your astounding conversational skills and abundant charm, it should be easy for you," he sneered. "Notify myself or Dumbledore if there is anything suspicious. That is all." With that, the Potions Master walked to his desk and sat down, looking smug as Harry shot daggers across the room.

Turning to go and feeling like he had lead shackles tied to his ankles, he opened the door and heard Snape's voice call out behind him.

"One last thing, Potter."

Sighing loudly, he looked back. "Yes, Professor?"

"He's not his father. I trust you can remember that," Snape said quietly.

~ * ~

The boy stopped at the clearing, his chest heaving against the humid air. Bracing his arm against an obliging tree, he vomited into the grass. The heat was burning his pale skin as he looked back towards the castle, wiping his mouth. Face streaked with sweat and tears he didn't even remember crying, he laughed. He heard his father's voice echo in his mind. 'Malfoys don't cry. Crying is for Mudbloods and weaklings, weaklings like you and your mother.' Pain pounding in his temples, he closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the world from spinning out of control.

As he stood there letting the chills pass over him, he tried to recall a time when he saw his father show emotion other than anger or mild disappointment. My father would have never let them get to him, never would have put himself in that situation. I wish he was here, he would make it all stop. He would never be afraid of -

He stopped, smiling bitterly

"Who the fuck am I kidding?" he said as he opened his eyes and exhaled. He would have told me that I was being disgusting, that I was being weak and useless like usual. He would have left me on the floor. I was always too much of an embarassment to be worthy of anything, really. He could feel the tears coming again.

Balling up his fist, he punched the tree, sending a shock of pain radiating up his forearm as he turned and walked into the woods. A tired, desperate anger swept over him. He looked down at his hand, aching and covered in blood. Old blood and new. His heart skipped at the memory of hands touching his. Someone did hold out their hand to me. And it had to be the one person in this school that could get the most joy out of seeing me fall. He grimaced. I bet he's up there right now, congratulating himself on being part of the joke. Him and all of his friends, laughing together.

"Fucking Potter," he snarled, walking faster down the overgrown trail. He didn't know where he was going, but he found that the constant movement helped him to think without exploding.

What had he seen in those eyes? Draco found himself in that moment, staring at that face. And he felt something that he was not accustomed to.

Lust.

Blood flushed into his cheeks as he tried to shove the thought away, but it seemed to strangle everything that made sense. It's just hatred. Hatred combined with temporary insanity. And the weather. Yes, that's it. Nothing to even worry about...

He felt another wave of dizzyness as he slowed his pace, his body drenched, throat dry. Coming to a stop in a small clearing, he quickly found a soft, green spot of grass and collapsed onto his back, sending a white plume of dandelions into the air. He couldn't have gone any farther, even if he wanted to. The old, weathered trees and dense foliage surrounded him in a circle, lending cool shade and protection from the outside world. Threading his fingers through his wet hair, he pulled it away from his face and tucked it behind his ears.

As he lay there, dark thoughts began to creep back in. My father is probably sitting in a cold, rotting cell, feeling the most intense pain of his life right now. He shuddered when he thought of the Dementors. Then again, Voldemort has probably done worse to him. He's strong, he'll survive and come back for me. Instead of reassurance, he felt a deep sense of emptiness. He has to come back to take care of mother. He knows I can't. Father loves us, in his own way. And he'll come back, I know it.

Taking in a deep breath, he pressed his back into the soothing soil and closed his eyes. His heart slowed as he quieted his thoughts, focusing on the sounds of the distant birds swimming though the sky, weightless and free. A faint, soft breeze drifted through the leaves, rustling them and making them dance against the summer sun. On the verge of sleep, he curled onto his side, cradling his head with his right arm. A small smile played across his face, blonde hair falling over his forehead.

Green eyes stared back at him through the dark, and they didn't falter.

Nobody can touch me here.

A small sense of peace washed over him. It was all he needed. He didn't have to question it. Not here...

He was gone.

~ * ~

I'm here. Yes, these are my arms. My arms are still mine. They can't take these. I am a Malfoy, aren't I? He laughed to himself, voice ringing off the stone walls. Have to get to him. He needs me. Why hasn't he come? This floor is fucking disgusting. Crawling, crawling things. Getting under my skin. Making me think...

Growling, he began to beat his head against the ledge behind him, long blonde hair falling into his face. His alabaster skin shone through the grey tinge he now had on his skin, making his eyes look like shattered crystal, glowing against the darkness.

They don't know, they don't know what's coming. Coming or going. HE IS. Time to go. Someone running. Blood running, through me, the same as. Time when he says it is. Father, no, I can't do it. Please. Where's mother? That's her dress, but why is... "NOOOOO!" he shrieked, clutching the sides of his head. Have to be good. Good dog. Doors and mud stuck, please don't leave me here. He's so small, we can't. "JUST TELL HIM TO BE QUIET!" His head brushed against the rusted chains hanging to his right, making a dull clanking. He flinched, his body convulsing.

"Oh, hello. I know who you are. Yes, have a good vacation? Positively wonderful weather, wouldn't you say? Bodies? No, no, we never keep them. Keep the things that breathe, the things that crawl. Oh, god, I know...I can feel..."

His eyes rolled back, and he began to chant in a low, fervent voice.

"You won't take me, no. I know who I am. I am...." he murmured, wrapping his hand around the cold metal, twisting it until his flesh began to bleed. He smiled, gasping, letting it trail down his arm, past the skull and snake burned into his skin. Sighing, he let his head fall back, only to bring it forward slowly.

Pounding, so loud...Can't hear anything. Oh, please, yes... You always knew... As the moon turns to ash, so comes the... "SHH! LISTEN!" he commanded to the empty air.

His body went still for a moment, as if straining to hear a far off noise.

He began to pull on the chain, his face expectant, twisted into a mask of reverance and passion as tears slid down his cheeks.

He Who Must

Not Be...

He Who Is...

Oh, god.

"He's coming..."

~ * ~