Sweet Resolve

While you were selling your soul
While you were tearing a hole in me
I was taking control

~~~

"What in Merlin's name is going on with him?" Draco had watched Harry fumble to grasp the reality of his apparent talents; the troubled boy finally just gave in and left the room, trying to escape momentarily from the night's discoveries. Now, so many questions bubbled to the surface, waiting to be popped open by Draco.

He had been dimly aware that Harry did not have the usual reactions or ailments as many who had been struck by various curses. In fact, he had been able to heal most of his wounds himself. Since students could only begin to study Magical Healing in their 6th year, this could only mean his wounds were just simple cuts and bruises, nothing too brutal. Not that Draco wished great harm on the Gryffindor golden boy, but he had looked forward to traumatizing him somewhat.

But now... after discovering there was something deeper, more powerful churning away in that raven-haired boy's body, it was just infuriating! Draco did not hide his feelings on that.

"This is just exasperating!"

"Why, Mr. Malfoy, I thought you would be pleased that your pupil was making such immeasurable success... or was your intention in this endeavor to just hope to torture him? Because if that's the case, you should have looked to me to warn you, Potter is not as dimwitted as he appears..." Snape leaned on his desk, regarding Draco closely.

"No sir, I am quite pleased with his success, as it is clear proof of my superb teaching abilities." Draco raised his head in true Malfoy fashion as he spoke while Snape just shook his head. "I just find it difficult to comprehend that he can walk away from the hexes, the Black Curses, without so much as a haunting dream, or the slightest burn searing his soul, or ... anything to remind him that he was cursed. Anything! It just makes no sense..."

"Mr. Malfoy, you will soon come to understand that nothing concerning our student ever makes sense. He has defied death. He has faced down the Dark Lord. He has mastered the art of Occlumency and Legilimency, focused to no end, all the while without any support of his friends. That boy is a walking contradiction of what should happen and what does." Malfoy crossed his arms and sighed, staring at the ceiling.

"I myself cannot explain this new insight. I understand your fury though. I am all too familiar with the consequences of using and receiving a dark curse. Whereas you and I have felt the blackness encroach on our deepest dreams, he simply continues living. Maybe it is a result of Voldemort's mark on him... most likely..." Snape rose and walked to the back of the classroom, collecting his papers. "Rest assured, Draco, we will figure this out. He will figure it out. Hopefully soon..."

Draco let his mind forget about the enigma that was Harry Potter and focus on the walking shadow that stood before him. During the past few weeks, Draco had subjected himself to Harry's company twice as much as before, and as a result, he also spent more time with Professor Snape.

The Potions Professor was not as terrifying as most of the school believed. While Draco already knew this, the past weeks made him realize the professor was much more human than he ever let on. He was actually pleased with Harry's progress, and although he did not trust Draco at first, he had begun to observe the blonde with much more respect and acknowledgment, due to his skills and integrity rather than his family name. After all, Draco had not informed anyone of his meetings, nor had he threatened to. In fact, Snape was beginning to believe that Draco just might not have ulterior motives.

Draco saw this in the man's eyes, and enjoyed knowing that two people in this school could see through his icy manner into the intelligent calculating boy that he was, if he wanted them to. However, Draco was able to see much more in the wizard's eyes as of recently. The professor would sometimes arrive late or leave early from many of their meetings. Upon his return the professor always looked haggard, as if life had been sucked away from him and was only just restored. Both boys would look at him with questioning eyes, but he would wave them off without a second glance, sometimes snapping at them if they made so much as a peep in his direction.

Draco was no fool. Voldemort's highest-ranking Death Eater raised him after all, and he knew torture when he saw it. Draco had picked up on a few things recently: clearly Snape was a spy against Voldemort, and it seemed that lately the Dark Lord was taking out a lot of his wrath on the man. As it were, apparently there was some kind of group headed by Dumbledore that Snape was involved with. Whenever Draco tried to breach the subject though, both his partner and his teacher would become tightlipped, but Draco knew in time he would learn much more. He and Harry were beginning to get along quite well, in and out of classes. Draco silently admonished himself for putting so much thought into the Gryffindor, even reminding him to grab a bite to eat while drilling the finer points of the night's potions homework into his stubborn head.

Am I beginning to like his company? Well it is a huge leap from Crabbe and Goyle, that's for sure. Ugh, and Pansy... Hell, none of the Slytherins compare to him. With his emerald eyes and glowing skin, it's a wonder the girls aren't all over him constantly. I guess his new behavior has something to do with that, but it didn't stop me! Of course, I had reasons... but I could get through to him. I can get him to smile... Oh, that smile...

Draco shook his head out of the secret reverie, and retraced his thoughts back to the professor who was now eyeing him closely.

"What exactly do you want, Mr. Malfoy? You are free to go, you know. I highly doubt we will be meeting again this week, so take advantage of it, and go bother another professor."

"Well sir, there was something I wanted to discuss with you, so it works out that Potter left early. Do you mind?"

Ahhh bloody kids. "No Malfoy, of course not. Please do share with me."

Malfoy walked up to the Snape's desk, and settled into a seat in front of him. One hand was in his pocket, fingering a letter that had arrived that morning. Draco had seriously deliberated what he would say in reply to his mother's note, knowing full well that it was for his father. During dinner he overheard Blaise Zabini irritatingly going off about how he couldn't wait to deliver news to his parents that Ron Weasley had just agreed that the Gryffindor house deserved to go up in flames, and a certain word triggered in his mind. Draco was enlightened, deciding to write back to his mother the following morning, but not until he spoke with Snape.

"Professor, you have been looking exceptionally out of sorts lately."

"What? If we all spent as much time in front of the mirror as you do, who would have the time to make all the personal care products that you use? If that's all, then get out, and don't waste my time!"

Draco just smirked. "You misunderstand me. What I was implying is that maybe you haven't been doing enough to... please your master?" Draco mentally smacked himself for the wording of that statement.

Snape raised an eyebrow, eyes widening by the audacity of the young man. Draco quickly added, "I mean, the Dark Lord has been upset with you lately hasn't he? He... is he questioning your loyalty, sir? Because if so, you need to feed him something, something truly substantial that would get him off your back."

"Where is this leading, Malfoy? Have you been hiding something?" Draco hated to do this, and jeopardize all the trust he had slowly built with the Professor, but it had to be done. For both their sakes.

"I received a letter addressed from my mother, but judging by the contents, my reply will go directly to Lucius. I need to supply him with... my developments thus far, and I have every intention of doing so. But not before informing you."

Snape was shocked by the way Draco addressed his father by his first name, but let it go. "What is it you are informing me. And how will it help?"

"It will help because you will tell the Dark Lord the same thing, before I even respond to the letter. Therefore it will be new information to him, and when I write, it will be a justification of your information. If anything, it will at least buy you some time."

Snape would not be so easily persuaded. "Are you feeling okay? I could not possibly have heard you consider someone else for a change. And if so, why in heaven's name would I trust you?"

"Hehe, sir, you slay me. I am merely suggesting you utilize my personal correspondence to your own benefit. And after all this time, have I not given you every reason to trust me? It isn't as if I intend to divulge the events that have been going on in this classroom. I am in no hurry to obtain the Dark Mark."

Malfoy shouldn't have commented on the Dark Mark, because he knew Snape would be immediately distracted by it. Malfoys never had this much difficulty getting their point across, but then Snape was no ordinary man; he took every precaution as if it were his last breath: slowly.

"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy. Dare I ask when you plan on joining the esteemed Death Eater ranks then?" Draco looked at him with exasperation. He waved his hands around, gesturing to the events that usually took place in this very classroom, and practically exploded.

"I HAVE NO INTENTION OF BEING SOMEONE'S LACKEY! Unlike my father, I will not bow down to an overlord and whimper in fear when I haven't pleased him! I am a true Malfoy, through and through, and I do not cower to anyone!"

"You do realize, at the rate Potter is progressing, you most likely will cower to him."

"I will never bow to Potter. He may learn the tricks of the trade, but since they do not mark him, he can never fully understand their true powers. As such, we both have the upper hand on each other, in different arenas. That is how it always has been, and always will be."

"You consider yourself his equal then?"

Draco inhaled a deep breath, calming his nerves. "I consider myself his only real challenge, sir. Voldemort's greatest tool is fear, so when that doesn't work, he'll have nothing better to fall back on," Draco clasped the white pendant that was hanging around his neck, and felt a pull back in the right direction. "But until then, he must be appeased. This is why YOU will go to HIM and inform him that you've learned through observation and some direct communication..." Draco shut his eyes and sighed. Just say it, just say it, be done with it. Nothing you can do now.

"What, Malfoy, what?"

"That I will personally deliver Harry Potter to Lord Voldemort."

~~~

There were some times in life where Draco truly believed his pureblood status was the reason the stars watched over him. What else other than his immaculate bloodline could be the reason he nearly escaped death from a raging Severus Snape?

After revealing his little idea to the professor, Draco literally fell out of his chair when Snape roared at him, asking him to explain himself, demanding a reason why he would ever utter such treacherous words. Draco saw the man finger his wand maliciously, and he was only barely aware of the words falling from that wiry mouth, dripping with anger and shock that Malfoy actually was going to use Potter for his own means.

It was at that point however that Snape clutched his forearm in pain, tears actually spilling from his clenched eyelids. Voldemort was calling his soldiers to meet.

Snape turned to Draco, grabbing him by the robe. "I am still demanding an answer from you, Malfoy. Wait in my chambers, and when I return we will be having a little chat." Draco winced at the words, but held his ground as Snape dropped him from his grasp, readying to leave.

"Tell him. Just deliver the message. You're a Slytherin aren't you? This will surely save your skin, for the time being at least. My message home will go no matter what. I've already instructed my owl to deliver it in the morning. This is your chance, sir. Just go."

Snape glared at him, completely unsure of what to believe, and what to make of this. "Just go to my chambers. NOW!"

Now, as Draco reclined on the sofa in Snape's living quarters, he wondered if Snape would really go through with it.

It's for his own good after all.

But when did Draco suddenly start thinking about other people? It did seem completely unnatural, but he was sure he could find a way to place the blame on Harry. Things were so different just a few months ago, and now, Draco's life had entered into a whirlwind of clandestine operations.

He had followed Harry on that fateful night. When he realized the boy was meeting Snape in his office, he deftly scampered to hide behind a statue, waiting for them to situate inside before approaching. Snape had thankfully only put a silencing charm on the room; the door was still unlocked, so Draco assumed nothing greatly important was happening tonight. But he still needed to know.

He knew Snape was a Death Eater. He used to be a friend of Lucius, but as Lucius climbed the ladder of Voldemort's minions, Snape remained at his rather lowly position, and the older Malfoy soon dealt with him in utter disregard. Just as Draco had been confused about Blaise's feelings to the Lord, so did he have his doubts with Snape. But he had created some ghastly potions for the sorcerer, and had attended at least some of the muggle attacks.

So what was his business with Harry Potter? Snape was a true Slytherin, and could be manipulating the boy. But after the time Draco had spent with Harry, he knew the Golden Boy was not a fool, but rather astute on many levels. His studies might not be stellar, but his intuition was right on the mark.

He had crept up, expecting to find out that Snape and Harry were actually related, or Harry was getting very personal potions lessons with him. He had not expected to overhear an argument over The Secrets of the Dark, nor did he expect to find himself volunteering to help the boy in his quest. At the time, it all made sense. They were partnered up, and so this was just another project, one that Draco had first hand experience in. So what was in it for him?

Well, first and foremost, he was able to spend even more time with Harry. Though they did not spend much time conversing in these particular sessions, as it was mostly focused on sinister subjects, it did open a door that both boys had wanted to venture through. They had each crossed a personal boundary. Harry knew about Draco's thoughts on his father, his family, and Voldemort. Draco knew about Harry's one-man struggle to defeat the vilest sorcerer on earth. Neither boy could look at the other without sinking into the depths of his soul, and Draco realized that if he could take it all back, he most certainly wouldn't.

He recalled one afternoon just a week ago, after the Care of Magical Creatures class. That big oaf Hagrid had asked Harry to join him for a cup of tea before dinner, but Harry politely refused, and Draco heard him mutter something about having some tasks to do before dinner. Draco purposely held back and slowed his walking, much to the chagrin of the Slytherins. But if they had a problem they did not voice it.

When Harry was close enough, Draco "accidentally" tripped him, causing the Gryffindor to fall to his knees.

"Potter, I know you adore the ground I walk on, but it really isn't necessary to bow down before me."

Harry lifted himself from the ground, and a glint reminiscent of the past years flashed in his eyes. But it wasn't animosity, as was obvious from his response.

"Malfoy, as I recall, I have yet to ever really bow down to you, despite your best efforts. You have to agree, no?" They both smirked at each other, knowing full well what Harry was referring to their late night meetings.

"You can't deny the fact that you have grass stains all over your knees, Potter. Either you intended to kiss my feet, or perhaps you were busy with Hagrid earlier, getting down and dirty?" Harry scrunched his face in disgust and mock anger, before rolling his eyes at the blonde and grabbing his bag. Both boys resumed walking in silence, not disturbing the amicable peace that was growing between them.

When the rest of the students had disappeared, hurrying to the Great Hall to silence their grumbling stomachs, Harry halted, and turned to Draco, a serious question forming behind those sparkling eyes. They still stood outside, glowing from the setting sun. His tone was flat, but the emotion behind his words was deafening.

"Do you plan on getting the Dark Mark?"

"Wha- where did that come from? Potter you know as well as I do my feelings on the subject."

"I know your feelings. But I don't know your fate."

Draco had been incensed by the question at first, but then he understood. Not all could decide their futures. Harry had certainly not chosen his own. "The golden boy doesn't have all the answers? Well no, it isn't in my planner as of yet."

"Does your father know that?" What was going on, why was Harry so concerned all of a sudden? As if to answer Draco's thoughts, Harry spoke up. "Not every child has a choice in this war. I know that there must already be Death Eaters in that school right now. I know they are watching me. And they must be watching you, waiting to see your next move. I don't really know what I'm saying..." Harry sighed and plopped down like a toddler in the grass, pulling his knees up to his chest.

Draco gracefully sat beside him, staring ahead at the castle doors beyond.

"You're saying that it is only a matter of time before it becomes obvious I haven't done anything or plotted anything wicked against you. But Harry... you never know, maybe I am." Draco smirked, and he suddenly felt heavy, as if the weight of Harry's sudden onslaught of emotions came tumbling down around him, and he was holding them up. Draco looked down, and saw his amulet glowing faintly, and then he turned to Harry, who was still staring ahead, but something was twinkling in his eyes. A tear?

And it hit him.

"Harry, I'm... I'm kidding. The walls between my father and me will come crashing down when the moment is right, and the truth will be known. I'm a Malfoy though, I know exactly how to save my own skin and get the job done. And trust me, I will."

"That's the problem. I AM beginning to trust you implicitly. Maybe it's just the workload, or being around you constantly, or not talking to anyone else, or... or whatever." One of his hands ran through his hair and was rubbing the back of his neck, a sign of clear frustration. "You still haven't chosen a side. Not everyone has to, but like you said, you're a Malfoy. I can see it! You will play a role in this war. How could you not?"

Draco sighed, shaking his head. "We can blame my father for that. Look, there's no denying dangers lie ahead for all of us. And something dark is lurking out there, maybe not too far. I mean... remember what happened to the ceiling at the welcoming feast? Dark times indeed..." Draco sighed and stared at the sky, which was clouded, much like the day he had gone to Azkaban. That day had been a turning point: that was the day he set his mind to follow the narrow and arduous path he was on now.

"I already play a role considering everything I've been working on with you. And I don't plan on being a Death Eater by any means, but it may come down to that."

"And if it does, which way will you be swayed?" Harry's eyes reflected the shadowed grass that surrounded them. Draco plunged into those glowing orbs, trying to decipher the reasons behind this troubled young emerald, wondering what he should say, how much he should say.

"I never said I would choose sides as it were. Ahh, but I can only say I will do what I think is best."

"Best?! Best for whom?" Suddenly, the shadowed emeralds burst with color and vibrancy, and the storm clouds chose right then to unleash a downpour amidst a howling wind. Draco stood up, offering his hand to Harry, who kept his burning gaze upon the boy, and grasped the hand to stand up. Lightening flashed right then, illuminating the clasped hands, pulling all focus away from the storm and onto the mysteries that still lived between those two palms, waiting to be discovered and realized.

Draco released his grasp and looked up at Harry's face. "Just trust me, Potter, trust me." Harry soaked in the words that played around his ears, completely unaware that his body was equally as soaked from the tears of the heavens above. He grabbed his bag, and set for the castle, never looking back at his partner. Draco watched him walk away, struck by the image of a lone soldier walking into battle, the hopes of his people hidden deep within those burdened shoulders.

"I just need your trust, that will be enough." Draco let the words trickle in a whisper from his mouth, only to be washed away by rain.

Now sitting in Snape's chambers - alone (a thought that kept sending shivers down his spine)- Draco contemplated what he himself meant by what was best. Deeper contemplation plunged him further into meandering thoughts of why he was helping Mr. Potter. Reaching a brick wall, Draco shook his head, trying to find another approach.

What is it I want most of all then? Why did I start all this in the first place? What... what am I hoping for?

Subconsciously stroking his mother's amulet, Draco fell into a trance that forced him to recognize the emotions and memories that had been mangled up in the depths of his mind. Suddenly images slashed through his brain. Memories of a father who scolded him for not reciting the full timeline of the Dark Lord's power, and sliced his flawless skin with the edge of his cane for daring to ask questions of the Dark Lord's intentions only to heal it without a trace. Memories of a brutal and yet manipulative father who even in prison scarred him throughout summer... barbaric spells being cast on and by Draco, wrenching his soul in its most sensitive places, breaking his heart in its most fragile. Without realizing it, drops escaped the two rain clouds, trying to heal the invisible scars marking his cheeks.

The horror of taking someone's life, of feeling their life force crumble and rot away, dissolving into the smell of burnt flesh and sound of cracked bones. The trauma of feeling energy bubble into the ground, leaving the innocent victim and diving into the murky pits of the earth. The mortification of seeing his father, swimming in his own filth and drool, mumbling incoherently about the unmitigated honor of serving Voldemort. All of these memories and emotions danced around Draco, scolding him for not being able to endure it, mocking him for not trying to break free sooner.

His breath quickened and his sight blurred so much he just clamped his eyes shut. Soon the boy was crumpled up on the sofa as his subconscious introduced a new set of memories for him. Harry working on their projects, Harry accepting his explanation, the two of them dueling, studying, sharing platonic intimacy previously unknown to the Slytherin... Suddenly he was fighting away sobs and taking heaving raspy breaths, trying to claim control of himself once more...

Control.

With the sharpness of a crack of a whip, Draco's eyes shot open and he sat up straight. While calming his breath and using some simple spells to clean himself up, Draco stood and walked to the window. It was immeasurably dark out there; one could be looking out for hundreds of miles but wouldn't be able to tell. The proud young man shuddered at the thought of being lost out there, in nothingness.

Because I wouldn't have the one thing I am seeking most. Control.

-But is that all you crave for?

Yes, yes it is. It's what I want. The strength to hold onto what my father could not.

-Oh, and Harry will help you get that?

He will, he already has begun. So shut up and go away.

-Defensive much? Well if that's what you want from the world, from Harry, then so be it. But at what price?

Indeed the question was at how much a cost would Draco be willing to pay to gain back command of his own life. And with what, or whom would he pay?

For the moment it would have to be with his supposed allegiance to his father, to Voldemort. After receiving the letter today, demanding information about the goings-on at school concerning Harry, Draco knew he would have to start playing the game now. After all, it would not do for a Malfoy to not join in the festivities.

Draco fingered the letter in his pocket, letting the letters travel through his skin and materialize before his closed eyes. What irked him a bit, just as in that first letter he received, were the liberties his mother had taken once more. Although this time she had not sent any special trinkets or gifts, her wording in the letter proved rather ... exposing, if read with discerning eyes.

She questioned him about school and his classes, and finally about Harry, inquiring about their projects together and if he had shown any improvement in his distant and apathetic behavior.

...I'm concerned that his behavior might affect you as well. I would hate for that to happen as I wouldn't be able to tell if you cared for your family any longer. And you know how important that is, to know who matters to you...

Draco was baffled at how obvious a step she was taking. Clearly the Death Eaters wanted to know if anyone held a place in Potter's heart: the more ammunition against him, the better. Even Draco had to shake his head in bewilderment, not only at his mother's brazen writing, but at the boy's behavior.

Did he forget how to love just because his godfather died? It is a bit weird, but it's clear something is living beneath his eyes, waiting, practically wanting to break through.

Had Draco continued down this less-traveled path of reason, he may have been able to comprehend the Gryffindor better, but at that point he was jolted out of it when he heard a muffled crash outside.

Carefully and silently inching the door open, he could make out some shadows just barely creeping into the hallway from around a corner. Draco heard hushed whispers and muffled comments, and ducked back in when one figure rounded the corner and headed past Snape's door to the Slytherin Dorms. The hooded figure was clad completely in black, carrying something white in his hands. Upon reaching the Slytherin dorm entrance, the hood was drawn back to reveal a tired and anxious-looking Blaise, who had placed a hand on the wall to regain his composure as he shook and trembled.

What a pathetic excuse of a Death Eater. I never saw Lucius tremble like that...he did however see his father in a worse state in prison, so Draco halted his scathing thoughts on Blaise, feeling somewhat concerned for the boy who clutched the wall as tightly as his face clutched its anxiety, finally entering the dorm. Maybe he hasn't completely fallen for Voldemort's rantings.

Draco turned back to the corner when he heard more whisperings, slightly agitated it seemed, and suddenly a crash and a shriek. The shadows melted into one big mess, indistinguishable until part of the black mass extricated itself to hover around the still shapeless blob.

Suddenly words ran away from the corner in all directions, in search of someone to hear them.

"Get away from me! Get! AWAY! No! Oh god!"

"Shut up and calm down! This isn't the place to discus -"

"But look at that, just look! You just let all this happen?? I don't unders-"

"SILENCE! You hear me! And as for you, stop cowering! You have a lot more explaining to do."

"I was going to! And I wasn't cowering! Well, look, I -"

"Not here! And lower your voices... you never know who could be listening..." Draco was only able to determine Snape's authoritative voice between the three, since one had been shrieking mostly, and the other barely had a chance to speak. Now they had fallen back into soundless whispers, and Draco desperately wanted to know what was going on. The hair stood tall on his skin, and the chills he felt just from the obscure murmurs along with the brief interlude of conversation he had heard was enough proof to know that tonight had certainly altered the course of many people's lives.

He strained to hear more words, but was only treated with the sound of retreating steps, and the approach of tall billowy robes.

Draco had barely enough time to register that Snape was about to throw the door open and drew away from it when the professor did indeed slam against the door and glowered down at a seemingly impassive Slytherin lounging on his sofa.

"How much did you hear?"

Draco raised his eyebrow in mock confusion. "I'm sorry sir? What ever are you talking about?"

"Don't play games with me, Mr. Malfoy. I am in no mood to tolerate your insolence tonight!" The Slytherin-ness in Malfoy reminded him that the professor was indeed extremely powerful and by the looks of it, extremely irate now as well, so angering him would not be considered a wise survival tactic. Thus, Draco relented.

"I merely heard some loud crash, some whining and many decrees of silence, by yours truly I presume?" Draco did not have the energy to toy with information at the moment and see if the professor would reveal anything. Those games could be played later. Snape eyes him closely, beady black pupils darting up and down the student, daring to probe his outer defenses and see if he was holding anything back. When satisfied that the boy was telling the truth, Snape rubbed his forehead with an exhausted sigh.

"I suppose I should thank you then." Draco looked up to see the professor staring him down, challenging him to make any sarcastic comments or remark upon the fact that Snape did indeed use Malfoy's information to his own advantage.

"Well, it worked then? You appear to be alive and kicking."

"For now. So explain yourself. What exactly is going on?" Tension suffocated the room as the older Slytherin charmed the door locked and crossed his arms, waiting for any kind of answer to slice away the unease.

"Fine. I received a letter from home, implicitly asking for information to Potter's and quite frankly my own behavior in school. This was the best explanation I could possibly return with, don't you agree?"

"Let me see the letter." Draco stiffened. It was one thing to mention the moral misgivings and transgressions of one's family, but to actually hand over proof? Once that letter rested in the hands of his professor, the act of treason to the family Malfoy would be looming over Draco's head forever like a noose awaiting its victim. Snape sensed his apprehension. "I assure you, Draco, that your name will remain safe. I know too well how the Dark Side works, and will not let you fall so easily into their hands."

Draco berated himself for needing that amount of reassurance, and reluctantly handed Snape the letter. He kept his steel expression focused on the professor's face, reminding the older man that he knew perfectly well what he had just done, and was determined to live through it.

Snape scanned the contents of the letter, secretly scoffing the rich for wasting money on trivial things such as the finest silk paper. Indeed, the information in here, if deciphered properly from the confines of meaningless rambling, opened the doors to new avenues of working against the evil wizard. Snape knew it was hard enough for the boy to let him even touch the letter; he cursed inwardly at how difficult it would be to take this missive to the other members of the Order. Draco tapped into his thoughts, cracking his silent ranting.

"You can do with that letter what you will. However, it had better be destroyed by morning. Lucius has ways of discovering whether I have saved such messages or not. And I had better not hear rumors around school of my involvement with whatever you do with the information. None." Your precious Order may know of my contribution, but they had better keep their whiny mouths shut. Draco pulled himself out of the sofa, regarding Snape with a calculating eye. "Do not fail me on that, professor. Good night."

"One last thing, Malfoy. Your so-called declaration concerning Potter, are you serious? Because if so, I can no longer allow you to work with him."

Blast that greasy man to always slip back into crevices Draco would rather leave untouched. He turned from the door, with one last look at Snape, who unlocked the door with a wave of his wand.

"Don't get in the way of our business. He needs it, and you know it. As for how much of my claim is true? Well... as much as needs to be true, sir. That's all you need to know." Draco glided out of the door, disappearing into the hallway like a restless wind.

Snape shoved the letter in his pocket, heading out of the door and to Dumbledore's office, where other members of the Order were likely waiting for him to explain the insane events of the night. He muttered to himself the entire way. Even for a Death Eater, he bore too many secrets, which were slowly consuming the little sanity he had left. He could not speak of Potter's developments; he could definitely not mention Draco's personal involvement. Until he was certain of the boy's sincerity- either with aiding Potter, or with aiding the Dark Lord- he would prefer not discuss the matter at all.

Draco Malfoy truly was a work of conniving art. He was in the ideal position to spy for either party, but the question remained: was he spying at all, and if so, for whom?