To do the Unspeakable

Chapter Three

Despite Lisa still draping herself limpet-like over him, it suddenly felt as though Draco had been struck a physical blow to his body. Multiple blows in fact.

The first thing that struck him dumb was responsible for his jaw just about dropping to the floor. Potter was here?

There was absolutely nothing in this case that could have possibly indicated that Draco would come face to face with Potter after three and a half years - two of which the saviour had been missing, even suspected as being dead. It was almost a laughable thought actually. Who would have honestly believed the wizarding saviour turned Quidditch star would willingly drop his hero status to be enrolled in a Muggle university that was on the edge of poverty?

But here he was, looking as though he had every right to be there. Amongst Muggles he calls friends and fellow students, and sporting the new alias of 'James'.

This thought led Draco to the other startling realisation, which was less important, but equally as startling. Boy had Potter changed.

When Marty's friends had described James as being the dark, mysterious and brooding type, Draco hadn't known how true that statement would turn out to be. Without the trademark chunky glasses, baggy clothes, and the ugly red lightning scar protruding from his forehead, Potter looked every bit the part. And it went further than appearance too. This Potter truly seemed to be comfortable with himself, his body, and of those around him. Dare he say that Potter looked even more content with these Muggles than he had been with the other two members of the Golden Trio after the war.

Well aware he was still mindless gaping over Lisa's shoulder, Draco truthfully could not connect the dots between the wizarding boy he'd seen over two years ago, and the Muggle man that was standing there at that very moment, looking so damn cocky and sure of himself.

Giving Draco an extra squeeze, Lisa released her suffocating hug, joking around as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

But I thought I'd blurted out Potter's name, Draco panicked suddenly. Won't they think it's strange I called their James, 'Potter?'

It wasn't until Draco opened his mouth and attempted to speak did he realise he couldn't have possibly said Potter's name out loud.

Not when all that came out of his mouth was an incoherent croak.

He hastily cleared his throat then, still unable to stop staring wordlessly at Potter, whose face betrayed nothing of what lay underneath as he stared back, undaunted.

When it became clear the two were going to remain at a stalemate, Marty intervened.

"James." Walking over to the still motionless wizard, Marty wrapped a light arm around Draco's tense shoulders in a similar move from the night before. "I'd like to introduce you to my new roommate, Drake."

This time, a flash of surprise briefly crossed Potter's features. But to Potter's credit, it went as quickly as it had appeared; replaced by a cool, nonplussed look as he stood up and slowly extended his hand.

"James Evansson. Nice to - meet you."

Evansson ... Evans' son ... how bloody predictable.

His eyes inadvertently dropped to Potter's outstretched hand. It was disconcerting that too much of the situation reminded him of their first official meeting on the Hogwarts carriage. The offered hand, the expectant yet defiant look - it was too bad he was undercover, or else he would have followed Potter's example all those years ago, and inflict as much hurt and humiliation onto the missing saviour that Potter had once inflicted upon him.

Draco looked up to catch the faint hint of amusement in Potter's eyes, hating that the other man was obviously thinking along the similar lines. I wish I could just hex the poncy bastard.

Reluctantly, he forced his arm to move and shake Potter's hand.

"Drake Malloy," he said thinly, then feigned disinterest at his next words. "Forgive me for my initial silence, but I must say that you look remarkably similar to someone I used to know."

To Draco's satisfaction, at those words, Potter apparently seemed to be unsure of how to reply, mouth grappling fruitlessly for words that were not spoken aloud. Sam, however, broke the unusual tension, cleverly quipping that that was his usual pick-up line.

The room immediately tittered with laughter and Potter's face instantly sported a cocky grin again.

Yet, unbeknownst to everyone else, there was a clear glint of warning in those emerald eyes, and in the tight grip Potter still had on Draco's hand.

Draco squeezed back. Warning received, Potter ... for now.

As if reading his mind, Potter's head tilted in the slightest of nods and released Draco's hand; smoothly stepping back as if he had not a worry in the world. It struck Draco yet again how remarkably different this Potter was from the one that he had once known and hated. It didn't make the situation any easier though.

Moving to sit back on his stool, Potter took a sip from his drink, and addressed Draco's initial question. He appeared to be satisfied by the blonde's reaction.

"I believe I'd remember someone like you," the once saviour drawled easily, throwing his head back for another sip. Draco allowed himself to be momentarily captured by the graceful way the other man's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, before abruptly turning away with a grimace.

When had Potter become so damn lick-able?

Silently cursing himself for thinking such a thing, he accidentally caught Sam's eye, who was noticeably leering at him again.

Sam smirked when their eyes locked. "I think we all would." His words were but a purr, causing Ally to slap him on the arm. "What?"

"Keep it in your pants," she hissed.

Affronted, Sam looked ready to launch into a retort, but Marty shook his head, breaking the two bickering adults up by forcibly standing in between them. Draco had the feeling it happened quite often by the looks of things.

"Children, children," he chided good-naturedly. "Must I take away your alcoholic beverages again?" Ignoring their indignant outcries at such a suggestion, he turned back to Draco with a hopeful expression. "You can have one though, if you like?"

Without missing a beat, Draco immediately declined. He wanted desperately to digest all these new revelations on his own and not in the presence of any irritating, missing wizarding heroes.

"I don't want a repeat of this morning," he added by way of explanation.

The two men who were subject to Draco's hangover that morning both chuckled in unison.

Draco snatched the perfect opportunity to escape. "Actually, I think I might have a bit of a rest in my room. This first day has been more draining than I had expected."

Thankfully, he was met with understanding nods.

"It's always a different experience when you suddenly find yourself at a new place and surrounded by all these different people," Tyler agreed.

"Yeah - almost an otherworldly experience, couldn't you say?" That of course came from Potter, his voice holding the slightest hint of sarcasm.

Again, it went unmissed by everyone except Draco.

Faking a laugh along with the rest of them, Draco hastily agreed with the group, then quickly went on to excuse himself and run into his bedroom.

After shutting his door, Draco didn't bother taking the few steps required to reach his lumpy, cramped bed. Instead, he leant his forehead against the cold, hard grain of the door, weariness finding its way in to mix with the disbelief and anger that was now coursing through his veins.

What was with this Potter, and why in Salazar's name was he here?

~*~

Draco paced back and forth the small bedroom, alternating between clenching and unclenching his fists. He'd had plenty of time to allow the whole situation to sink in, but what with the never-ending barrage of questions being tossed around in his head, and the continuous presence of Potter's laughter drifting in from the kitchen, he'd found himself becoming angrier and angrier by the second.

What in blaze's name was Potter doing at a Muggle university - no, to be more specific, what was he doing at this Muggle university? The very one Draco was sent to investigate dark activities?

Could the raven-haired wizard have something to do with the so-called dark activities? Sure, the actual traces of dark activities were relatively small - hardly enough to warrant a big-scale operation (as proved by Draco's assignment), but was it possible that Potter was somehow responsible? He did have an inkling of suspicion towards James before he had found out James was Potter. There had just been too much mystery surrounding the supposed Muggle.

Draco groaned aloud. Why couldn't that infuriating git just leave his life for good? It was so hard to gather all that he had discovered about this James and then assign them all to Potter. His own extensive knowledge of the boy hero seemed so different from the Muggles' descriptions of James. Their lifestyles, their occupations, their personalities - it all just didn't seem to mesh together.

And -

Draco stopped dead. Hold on. He backtracked to what he had just inadvertently revealed.

Lifestyles ...

"Potter's gay?"

Oh, this was just way too much to digest. James Evansson was Harry Potter, who was a Muggle uni student, who was a very attractive and mysterious man, who was - gay?

Excluding that Ravenclaw witch, who had been completely whacked, and the Weaslette, which had only lasted a few months in their sixth year, when had Potter shown any interest towards anyone, let alone a guy?

The years at Hogwarts, up until his sixth that is, then the years that had followed, Draco had certainly seen no sign that the boy-who-lived had any inclination towards the same sex. And he had to admit grudgingly that he'd watched Potter a fair bit over the years ... what with them being school boy nemesis's, and then for that time in sixth year, on opposite sides of the war too.

Not that I would have ever done something about it if he was, of course, Draco reminded himself, almost laughing at the thought. They'd never been able to bury the hatchet completely, not after what had happened with that whole Dumbledore thing ... being responsible for his death and all.

Wincing, Draco abruptly forced his mind away from that dreadful night. As cold as he felt toward the former Headmaster, he'd never truly wanted him to die. He had just wanted to protect himself and his family, which now that he'd thought about it, had been quite a Gryffindor-like thing to do. No wonder he'd gotten off so lightly in the end...

He kicked out at his bed in frustrated anger. Bloody Potter for stirring up these old feelings, he cursed. Always causing trouble wherever he roams.

Although, the saviour is looking drastically different than what he used to, said the little voice at the back of his head. Definitely no longer the weedy, bespectacled boy he was three years ago, is he?

"So," a voice drawled, and Draco spun around, startled to see Potter casually leaning against his now opened door. He hadn't even heard it open. "Drake Malloy hits Muggleville. Who would have thought?"

Draco's eyes immediately narrowed in anger, and his lips pursed into a vague scowl. He saw no reason to continue the façade any longer, not when the other Muggles were clearly not around to see or hear it. And so what if the poncy git isn't as much of a geek anymore, he belatedly threw back to the little voice.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled.

Potter's face adopted a barely believable innocent look as he shrugged. "Oh, sorry," he apologised, looking anything but. "Must have taken a wrong turn." He shrugged again, now smirking faintly. "Thought this was the bathroom."

The veracity of this new Potter shocked Draco into speechlessness, and he gaped, lost for words for the second time that day.

"You know what I mean, Potter," he said, eventually regaining his voice. "What the hell are you doing here, at this Muggle university? Did your poor, oversized head get too bored with the endless fame and fortune that was thrown at you in the wizarding world? Or wasn't it enough for you that you now have to move onto the Muggle world and rule them too?"

Potter's face sported a wry expression. "Not that it's any of your business, but being a student at a Muggle university is hardly enough to satisfy my so called 'delusions of grandeur'."

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Draco shot back, irritated by how calm Potter was taking all this. He wasn't bloody calm.

Potter snorted. "You really haven't changed since I last had the pleasure of being in your company, have you Malfoy?" he noted, but sounding as he if he didn't really care. "You seem to think that you have the right to barge in here, demanding that I answer questions that really you should be answering."

"I do have the right," Draco answered stubbornly, crossing his arms. He suddenly felt out of place standing in a Muggle bedroom. Then again, Potter had always had that effect on him. "I'm not the one who has been missing for two years."

"Oh?" Potter raised both eyebrows haughtily. "So I'm supposed to believe that there's nothing unusual about the sudden appearance of a pureblood wizard at a Muggle university? A pureblood, I might add, who, throughout his entire life, has made no effort to hide his disgust towards all things Muggle?"

Draco went to argue, but Potter stopped him.

"I mean, surely this is all beneath you, being here in Muggle accommodation." He began to mockingly tick off each point on his slender fingers. "No house elves, no magic, surrounded by filthy Muggles who you, for some reason, have to act nice with - it makes one wonder what on earth you did to get sent here." He took an uninvited step into the suddenly claustrophobic bedroom, and caught sight of something that made him smile. "I see you brought your mirror though. How ... quaint."

Draco ignored the dig about his mirror. "What makes you think I've been sent here?" How could Potter possibly know ... unless ... Narrowing his eyes further, his suspicions began to mount up even more.

Potter tapped his chin with a slender finger. "Well," he drew out the word meaningfully, "I seem to recall quite a few confrontations with you and Hermione during the final months of the war. I believe most were along the lines that you would never willingly go into the Muggle world." He stopped, as if realising something. "In fact, wasn't your exact comment once, 'Bar the Imperius curse, I would never ... never, on my own accord, step into any filthy Muggle breeding ground'."

"Touché, Potter," Draco mocked, hiding his initial surprise. He didn't think that Potter had taken such close notice of him during the war. He'd seem pretty preoccupied most of the time, grumpy with the Dark Lord, his mysterious quest, and just the world in general. "But I guess this is where I prove you wrong yet again. If the events after our sixth year have somehow slipped your mind, let me remind you that I have changed." Determined to not show how much it took to mention that time, he stopped, his face a guarded mask.

There once was a time Potter would have lunged at him for that brief mention of the aftermath of their sixth year, or at the very least hexed him into unconsciousness. The event he was hinting at was a very turbulent time for Potter, and it had irked him something shocking to know that Draco had been partly responsible for it.

But times had definitely changed, and so had Potter. The raven-haired man only blinked, his blank face still revealing nothing of what used to be so prominently showed during the war - especially during the formerly mentioned times.

"All I was trying to say Malfoy, is that it is an awfully suspicious sight to see you here," Potter said levelly, moving slightly sideways to lean against the wall. "I wouldn't go so far as to say you look comfortable amongst the Muggle population, but whatever the reason is for your presence here, it must be pretty damn important for you to go around without so much as that customary sneer on your face."

"I told you, I'm not here for any reason other than my own personal ones," Draco said through gritted teeth. Why did this Gryffindork need to be so damned nosy? "And they are definitely none of your business."

Potter pushed himself off the wall, and for the first time he looked slightly irritated. "See, this is where you are dead wrong. It is my business because you have suddenly barged your way in with my friends and my life." As he spoke, his shoulders stiffened defensively, and his green eyes narrowed darkly.

In as much of a bored tone as Draco could muster, he replied, "Here you go again, thinking that my life exists simply to intervene in yours. It's hardly a fact that I want nothing to do with you. Hell, we haven't exchanged words since the one year anniversary, and let me tell you that now is way too soon to be seeing your pot-head again."

"Then leave," Potter suggested simply, his gaze no less fierce. "There are other Muggle universities you can pretend to enrol at. Go slum it elsewhere."

A deep childhood resentment had him indignantly snap back, "You can't tell me what to do!"

They stared at one another, Draco inwardly kicking himself for losing control, before Potter spoke again.

"Someone obviously can, and don't think that I'm dense enough to believe that that someone is you and not the Ministry." At Draco's shocked expression, he added smugly, "I know it's not exactly public information, but I was made aware of your occupation before I left the wizarding world."

Draco's mouth dropped open. "What?" How? The Ministry promised they'd keep it as quiet as possible!

Potter actually had the nerve to smirk. "What it is you are apparently investigating I'm not going to pretend to know," he announced, "but just be warned, Malfoy." At those words, he slowly approached Draco, his stance turning dangerous. For one heart stopping moment, Draco's mind conjured up the nightmarish scene from the final battle ... a lone figure standing over the Dark Lord's fallen body, screaming his rage. "I recommend that you stay out of my way - or you will find yourself as something far more horrifying than a bouncing ferret."

Turning his back on a furious Draco, Potter threw one last comment over his shoulder. "Oh and I'd also prefer it if you didn't tell anyone where I am. You wouldn't want any of the media to discover that you were here of all places too, would you?"

Obviously not expecting any reply, the door shut softly behind him, his parting smirk branded in Draco's mind.

Draco glared at the door long after Potter had left, then let out a huff of frustration and turned to viciously kick the bed again.

"I loathe that disgusting, scar-headed, pitiful excuse for a wizard. How no one has discovered him at this Muggle university before is beyond me ..."

He trailed off as he thought of something truly Slytherin. But to hell with Potter if he believes I'm going to listen to him.

Draco was conscious of a small, grim smile growing on his face.

"First stop - the Ministry."

~*~

Exiting the elevator and making an undignified dash up to the Auror Department early the next day, Draco arrived at Moody's door out of breath, and red-faced. Whether or not the red face was attributed to the mad dash or the fact that he was steaming with anger didn't really matter at that point. He'd had the whole night to stew about Potter's suspicious presence and was at the point where he just couldn't hold it in any longer. It was about time that Potter realised nobody threatened him without facing the consequences.

Oh and would those consequences be dire for Potter, Draco thought with vicious glee. After the Ministry becomes aware of his location and discovers that he could be turning into the next Dark Lord, he won't get a moment's peace for the next twenty years. He stopped in front of Moody's office. If he's lucky.

Draco didn't bother with the usual pleasantries of knocking on his boss's door. Instead, he yanked the door handle down and pushed the door open with a loud resonating slam.

"Moody, I-" he started, only to be met with Moody's bent back as his boss chatted with someone in the Floo.

He snapped his mouth close, irritated, and crossed his arms as he waited for Moody to turn around.

Eventually, the Auror did, mid-way through a hushed conversation with a floating head. Who it was, Draco couldn't tell, and truly didn't care. He wanted that person gone.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Moody asked, foregoing any greetings. He sounded just as irritated as Draco. "Don't tell me you've given up on the case already?"

Draco's fists clenched. "No - I haven't given up," he snapped back, his anger returning with so much force he could hardly spit out the words. "I just have some information I believe would be of interest to you." That he pointedly wanted the person in the fireplace to be gone was loud and clear.

Moody delivered his reply condescendingly. "As you can see, I am currently in the middle of something. Can't you just wait until you hand up the full report of your solved case?"

"No!" Draco shouted, infuriated. "I think it's high time somebody you and the bloody Ministry worship finally fell from grace. I don't intend on waiting any longer," he added, just to make sure Moody got the point.

He did, and he didn't seem happy in the slightest. Confusion lined his harsh features. "If it's a problem you have with one of the Aurors or the Ministry employees down in the Muggle department, I don't want to hear it," he announced firmly, moving to once again face the fireplace. The figure muttered something that made Moody laugh, and then shake his head. "No, don't worry. I can deal with him later ... Yes, I'm sure. Forget about him."

Draco opened his mouth to deliver a scathing reply, but a knock came at the door Draco had hastily left open and forgotten to close.

A silky voice followed the brisk knock.

"As requested, Alastor, I am here," the voice said, before, "Draco?"

Draco turned to see the voice and was as equally surprised as the other man. "Severus! What are you doing here?"

It was unusual to see the man anywhere near the Ministry, for, like Draco, they weren't too fond of any Death Eaters, even if they were ex-Death Eaters who risked all to be spies for the Light.

Draco detected a brief sign of annoyance in the black eyes that met his. "I am here to ascertain a possible Dark Arts potion that one of your - fellow-" and here Severus managed to add just the right amount of dryness to it, "-Aurors discovered during a raid."

"Oh." Draco hadn't known Severus had to juggle his teaching duties on top of the odd job for a Ministry Severus clearly didn't like back. "Are you getting paid?"

Severus' expression was somewhat scornful towards his former student, before Draco's annoying boss, whom he had yet to voice his outrage to, interrupted their conversation.

"Whilst this Slytherin reunion must be terribly exciting for you two-" he said in a bored manner, dusting the Floo powder off his hands. The head in the fireplace must have left through all the commotion. "-I would like to remind you whose office you are still in."

Severus stiffly inclined his head towards the Auror now seated behind his desk. "Alastor," he said again.

Draco hadn't heard that tone since Longbottom had been in Potions.

Moody's face took on a sinister edge as both eyes latched onto Severus' dark form; a disturbing smile crossing his lips. "Severus," he returned. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here - out of your dungeons."

"I found I had little choice in the matter," Severus replied tightly, obsidian eyes narrowing. "Minerva insisted."

"Well, you've always been good at following orders," Moody said slowly, still smiling oddly. It didn't suit the man at all; with the scars, both old and new, scouring his face, it made him look horribly disfigured. Well, more so than usual, anyway.

Severus didn't reply, but Draco could see the resentment exuding from his old Potions Professor.

Moody's smile grew, obviously delighted with Severus' reluctant compliance. He signed a parchment and handing it to the displeased wizard. "Take that down to the Potions laboratory," he instructed, "and they'll give you a sample to take back with you."

Severus nodded, face blank, and moved to turn away. At the last second though, he thought better of it, and stopped to face Draco. "It has been quite some time since we last spent any time together," he remarked, keeping his voice low enough that the Head Auror wouldn't be able to hear. "Perhaps you could visit my quarters in the near future."

Draco nodded immediately. "Of course."

Severus's mouth twisted into his closest version of a smile, then took his leave. Draco watched him coast away with his trademark sweep of his robes.

"And why are you still standing in my office? I believe you've got a case to return to?"

Suddenly remembering where he was with a jolt, Draco scowled and turned back to Moody. "I don't-"

But yet again, Moody simply waved any excuses off. "I have no time for your childish antics today, Malfoy. You got a problem, solve it yourself. This is not the time for deciding you don't want to work alone."

"But you don't understa-"

"Not now." The tone was clearly final.

"Fine," Draco scowled, and spun around to exit the office. He had to restrain the urge to slam Moody's door shut as he stormed out.

How dare that man not listen to what he was trying to say! How dare that ugly old man have the nerve to just wave him away like he was some house elf! Ugh, thwarted once again by the stupid Golden Boy.

Sneering at all the Aurors behind their comfy desk jobs, he turned to look to his right and saw the billowing robes of his godfather in the distance, making a brisk pace towards the Ministry potions laboratory. Draco hesitated only slightly before chasing after him. He might as well take Severus up on his invitation straight away. That way, he would be able tell someone he did care about, since Moody refused to listen. Maybe his dearest friend could think up an even better way to disgrace their mutual nemesis.

"Severus!" he called out, making the shadowed figure slow slightly. "Hold on!"

~*~

Draco accompanied Severus down to the basement. Even after watching the Potions Master at work for over six years, it was still so fascinating to see the other man in his element; sweeping around the lab as though it were his, and collecting samples with an ease that even the best in his field envied.

As the minutes passed on though, Draco couldn't help but notice the hostile stares that followed their every move. It was as if he and Severus didn't belong at the bottom of their shoes, much less their lab.

"Doesn't it gall you how ungrateful the wizarding world acts towards us, even after all that we did for them during the war?" Draco wondered aloud, once they were free of the stifling basement. Together, they walked to the fireplaces, Severus having no problem with Draco joining him at his quarters at Hogwarts. Draco would have preferred to Apparate, but the potion in Severus' possession was too risky to attempt any Apparating, and Draco didn't want to inconvenience Severus any further. "Why do you put up with it?"

It was a question he'd been wondering for quite some time. Severus had been ostracised by many people since Dumbledore's death. Even though the former Headmaster had had Snape forge that Unbreakable Vow on his own orders because he had already been facing imminent death from some poison, the only people that would now put up with him were a few members of the Order, and Headmistress McGonagall.

It was amazing that Severus hadn't been thrown straight into Azkaban after the war, what with the world's attitude towards him. Most of the public had petitioned for his incarceration, only to be disappointed when the Wizengamot had instead dropped the case and reinstated him as Hogwarts resident Potions Master.

Severus kept his suddenly fierce looking gaze ahead.

"As I said to that pathetic excuse of a Head Auror, I have little choice in the matter," he answered, and briefly looked down at his left forearm. Out of instinct, Draco looked down at his too. The Mark had almost disappeared, thanks to bloody Harry Potter, but Draco knew it would never truly be gone. "After the life I have left, it is either tolerating the inconsequential glares and feelings of people I hold no affection for, or a spacious spell in Azkaban."

Draco had been almost lucky in that respect. Everyone at the Ministry couldn't stand him, knowing what part he'd taken in Dumbledore's death, but they'd always shown more lenience towards him because he'd done it all to protect his family. For a while there had been the brief possibility that he could have ended up at Azkaban like his father, but that had been thrown off the chopping block because Dumbledore had given him his protection ... from the grave. The extra brownie points he'd been given for converting to the Light side in such a spectacular fashion only two months later also helped tipped the scale for a non-prison life, and thankfully an Auror career at the Ministry.

Then again, the Ministry had been pretty desperate for Auror recruits at the time. It was more Draco's aptitude at the tests that had gotten him grudgingly accepted into the program, rather than his less than stellar reputation.

Draco felt his mouth contort into a grimace at the reminder.

"Well Potter sacrificed far less in the war than you did, yet he gets the credit you deserve," he objected, still sore about his confrontation with his school nemesis.

Severus stopped short. "It's been a while since Potter's name has been included in one of our conversations," he commented, his casual tone belying the concern in his eyes. Draco looked away as they continued on their journey, but Severus persisted, evidently sensing something was wrong. "What brings up the subject of that particular wizard today?"

They turned a corner, finding themselves at the fireplaces, and a silence was mutually agreed upon until they'd successfully manoeuvred their way halfway up the lengthy queue already waiting to use the Floo. Ignoring the ensuing complaints, Severus turned to him expectantly, obviously unwilling to forget the topic.

Suddenly feeling more tired than anything else, and not wanting anyone to overhear, Draco gave the tiniest shake of his head, and redirected their conversation towards Severus' classes. Severus, of course, was aware of the swift subject change, but answered with the usual insults of every Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff student in his classes. In no time at all, they found themselves at the head of the queue.

Severus generously motioned for Draco to step into the fireplace, giving him a telling look, and doing so, Draco dryly replied, "Don't worry, I will tell you, but I guarantee that what you are about to hear will shock the robes off you." At Severus' clearly piqued expression, Draco smirked, and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. "Snape's Quarters."

~*~

Long after Draco finished his tale, Severus stood thoughtfully by his fireplace, looking into the flames.

"Hmmm," he said after a lengthy silence. He turned to Draco who was comfortably sprawled on his lounge. "So you intend to inform the Ministry that their precious saviour has turned dark?" Draco nodded, and Severus pushed on. "Do you actually believe Potter to be the origin of these so-called dark activities?"

Draco picked at a stray thread on his tee shirt, before snipping it off with his wand. "I'm not sure at the moment," he replied honestly, looking up, "but it's too much for it to be a coincidence. Don't you think so?"

Severus frowned in Draco's direction, but was obviously still deep in thought. "There does seem to be ... cause for your assumptions," he conceded, "but something about the situation you found him in doesn't strike me as being very believable."

Draco loved how Severus' mind worked, always being one step ahead. "What doesn't seem believable?"

"Do you have the list of what dark spells were detected?" Severus asked instead, sounding business-like.

"Not here with me, but they were all pretty basic in nature. Nothing to cause an outcry of the Dark Lord's return."

Severus' eyes gleamed in satisfaction. "Exactly."

Prior to the conversation, thoughts along the same line had reluctantly crossed Draco's mind.

"So you think that because the dark spells weren't particularly powerful, it couldn't possibly be Potter?" he asked, but then shook his head before Severus could answer. Something had just come to him. "No, you're wrong there. Maybe Potter is only just learning the Dark Arts."

He looked at Severus who was shaking his own head. That's right, Severus would know, being Potter's teacher during the latter stages of the war. He'd even been there with Potter during those final tumultuous months.

He pushed on. "Or maybe - maybe he's been able to shield the darker spells from the Ministry, and became a bit careless when it came to the less important ones." Again he looked up to see what Severus thought.

Severus took a while to speak again, and the words that did spill out were quite uncharacteristic for the usually dour man. "Forgive me, Draco, but in the time I did spend in that - unfortunate brat's presence, I could not fail to see how much the Gryffindor did resent his status in our world." Some of his old self resurfaced as a sneer crossed his face. "Perhaps the simplest theory would be that he merely returned to his Muggle roots."

Draco gasped, aghast at the very possibility. Had he just heard right? "You can't possibly believe-"

"It is possible," Severus interjected.

"You just don't want to accept the possibility that Potter's turning dark," Draco cried, the injustice that his closest friend mightn't believe him hitting him deep. "I mean, you weren't there. You didn't see him - you - you didn't hear him when he talked to me. He threatened me, Severus. Practically blackmailed me into keeping quiet about his whereabouts."

"I believe that if I had disappeared from the wizarding world for the sole purpose of some privacy, I would not have been particularly pleasant to any soul who could effectively threaten that."

Meaning he'd poison the poor soul at the first opportunity. "But it's not just that," Draco argued aloud. "The whole time he just looked so - so emotionless. Not even after the final battle did he look anything like that, and - well, I don't know." With a sigh, Draco threw himself down on Severus' lounge again, not noticing until then that he had stood up during his display. "I admit that - seeing him brought up a lot of memories I'd rather forget."

No sign of surprise flickered across Severus' face, and Draco realised he had already suspected as much.

"Your father." It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement.

"Yes, my father," Draco sniped, then waved his apology. He sighed wearily, dragging a pale hand across his pained face. "I know that what my father - did to Potter wasn't particularly pleasant, but just seeing him alive when my father isn't ... it just hits hard, I guess. He wouldn't have even been on the run at that time if Potter hadn't caught him back in fifth year."

Severus moved to sit across from him; black eyes alight with complete understanding.

"Through our hardships, it is human nature to search for someone to place the blame upon," he started. "Some find it easy to blame the highest levels of authority in society, others the religion they follow. Many simply search for the people they already have taken a disliking too. In the case of your father's downfall, it is easier to place the blame on Potter as not only did he represent everything you despised, but he was the figurehead of the war - and ultimately the one whom the Dark Lord focused all his attention on."

Severus gave Draco no opportunity to interrupt as he continued. "There was a time where I fell into that trap, laying all the blame I could muster onto the young Gryffindor's shoulders. Blame for all that had occurred in my childhood, and blame for where my life had eventually led. It wasn't until I discovered that I had been treating him the same way his predecessor had treated me did I realise that I had become an embittered, old man, intent on inflicting endless pain onto an innocent boy who had never known the reason why."

Draco reluctantly raised his eyes. "But you still hated him, right? Surely, there were some things that you hated about him that weren't because of his father?"

Severus chuckled. "Yes, indeed there was, Draco. His recklessness and blind stupidity towards the obvious were often the causes of my ire, on top of his penchant for breaking every major rule that applied to him."

Reaching out to gently enclose Draco's hands with his, he sobered slightly, returning to their previous conversation. "I don't want you to turn out like that, Draco," he beseeched, more earnest than Draco had ever seen him. "Living a life that's one purpose is for revenge can only bring you a half-life filled with anger, bitterness and loneliness. I can personally attest to that and it is an outcome that I wish you not to follow."

"I-" Draco opened his mouth, but found he had nothing that he could possibly say in return.

This was the most Severus had shared with him since the Potions Master's birthday three years before. He flexed his hands slightly, still in Severus' secure grip, and nodded. He could understand that. It mightn't mean he would hold off on telling the Ministry about Potter, but he wouldn't let the anger consume him so much ... or the hatred.

This seemed to spur Severus on. "Now, we have only touched upon this before, but it must be said that by the time he escaped from Azkaban in that mass breakout, your father was a desperate man. That one year inside, regardless of his abilities and blood, definitely took its toll on him. If you add this situation with the possibility that his long absence had distanced himself from the Dark Lord's favour, he was only a shell of his former self ... an extremely paranoid and unsettled shell."

Severus shifted to the edge of his seat, and gripped Draco's hands even tighter. "It was ultimately his desire to be back in good graces with the Dark Lord that pushed him to his actions, not his desire for revenge against Potter." He released Draco's hands with a sigh. "It is our choices that define us, Draco. Lucius made his, just as you yourself made your own."

Severus was getting dangerously close to a topic they'd long agreed never to bring up again.

"Don't - just don't remind me," he replied curtly, the 'ever again,' remaining unsaid, but heard nonetheless. It was always going to remain an off-limits topic between the two of them. The one time it had been discussed was one time too many in Draco's books.

Thankfully, Severus changed the topic, although Draco could have lived without what it was changed to. "I couldn't help but overhear that with this case, your own research into your father's death has been brought to a sudden halt. I take it that my lengthy speech just now hasn't convinced you to put this search behind you as well as your personal vendetta against Potter."

"You'd be right." And as Draco said it, he truly meant it. He wouldn't completely disregard what Severus had said - obviously he knew it was his father who was to blame for the way his life had turned out - but there was no way he was going to ever drop his father's investigation. "I'm not going to rest until I find out who murdered him, so as soon as I solve this stupid case, I'll be back at the Ministry to continue where I left off."

"And where would that be?"

"Well, the latest news that I've managed to dig up from an unnamed source, indicated that my father had visited Knockturn Alley briefly on the day of his death, and was seen buying some items I haven't yet been able to discover the identity of. I think that if I find out what they were-" He was prepared to share more of his previous discoveries but was cut off by Severus.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but for once I agree with the Ministry. Delving into your father's death can only worsen matters. What will you do when you find out who killed Lucius?"

"I can't give up - I won't give up. I am going to find out who killed my father if it's the last thing I do." Draco glared at Snape. "Maybe if you actually helped me by getting into contact with-"

"You know I can't, Draco. We have been over this -"

"Yes, we've been over it a million times. You wouldn't be of much help. You are no longer in the position to get in touch with the old crowd. I thought that maybe, for once, you'd see things my way and actually want to help." Draco laughed bitterly. "Silly of me to still think that, right?"

Severus ignored the sarcasm. "Disregarding your practically non-existent relationship with your father at that time, I can see that your father's death upset you greatly," he said. "However, you need to understand that you cannot act the vigilante - especially for your father. He was my friend once too, and it was a deeply painful experience for me to be forced into revealing to him my status as a spy. As painful as it would have been when you did what you did."

Severus was treading on dangerous ground again, and Draco snapped, the events of the past few weeks proving too much for him to handle.

"I get it all right. Can't you just drop that damned subject?" he shouted, infuriated. "What happened five years ago doesn't need to be dredged up every time you want to make a bloody point."

A faint pink coloured his friend's pallid cheeks and Draco immediately felt ashamed for what he'd said.

Severus hadn't had things any easier than he. Being outed as a spy after the extreme lengths he'd taken to keep his true identity safe, losing the trust of someone who was once his closest confidante - it was a difficult subject for him too.

Managing to curb his anger enough that he was able to meet Severus' eyes for the shortest of moments, he mumbled a short apology, and the excuse that he needed to leave and return back to the Muggle university.

Severus stopped him as he reached for the bowl of Floo powder.

"One last piece of advice about your case, Draco," he said, referring to their initial conversation. As Draco slowly faced him, he was surprised to see any anger strangely absent from the man's direct gaze. Just resignation. "Whether or not you believe Potter is involved, I can't imagine that the Ministry will take too well with you accusing our world's saviour of disappearing to practice dark magic. Your interaction with them lately has been sketchy to say the least, and if you are wrong about this, yet another black mark will be etched to your name."

"What do you think I should do then?" Draco challenged.

"Put aside your school animosity long enough to collect enough irrefutable evidence, before damning him."

"All right," Draco relented tiredly, after a moment's contemplation. He really didn't like arguing with Severus - the Potions Master was the only friend he truly had left. "I'll wait until I have enough on him, then I'll inform the Ministry. At least then I can make sure I get all the credit for it," he added.

Snape nodded, looking grimly satisfied. He waved a vague, potion-stained hand towards the fireplace. "Now, is there anything else I can help you with? I do have a potion that needs - assessing."

A thought popped into Draco's head. "Uh yeah. Have any spare poisons lying around?" he asked, only half-joking.

~*~

Harry was standing in the middle of some sort of ruins; his body partially hidden behind a large, thick crumbling column. All around him, a fierce battle raged on; shouts and curses whizzing through the air with such force his frazzled hair stood even more on end than usual. Taking a hesitant step away from his hiding place, he couldn't explain it, but an odd sense of wrongness permeated every inch of his body. There was something distinctly off with the whole situation, and there was a niggling feeling that he should know exactly what it was.

Helpless, he watched from afar as someone he knew fell soundlessly to the ground, struck by a barrage of hexes from some very familiar masked wizards.

This wasn't mean to happen, he suddenly realised as he caught sight of another masked wizard seemingly emerging from nowhere. There were too many. Something's gone horribly wrong.

"Harry!"

The sound of his name being desperately called out above the battle seemed to suddenly include him in the chaos. He was forced to deflect a fierce looking red hex coming straight at him, before retaliating with a few of his own. Only after he knocked over a masked figure on his left was he able to look over his shoulder and see a ginger-haired girl weaving through the battlefield.

Realising she was heading over to him, he helped shield her way, shooting down a few more attacks aimed at her until she reached his side.

Gasping for breath, she held one hand over her chest, the other still holding her wand and firing off occasional curses. "Oh god, Harry. Everything's gone wrong," she managed to force out.

Mechanically, Harry deflected another hex and shot one Death Eater to the ground. "I know," he shouted above the noise. "It was a trap- stupefy!"

It was only as the words left his mouth did he realise that it was the truth.

Another Death Eater went down and he turned to Ginny when he heard a choked sob. "What is it?"

He was surprised to see tears in her eyes as she slumped boneless against the column. "Oh - I - I just saw Kerry," she cried, and the way she said it made Harry fear the worst. "He - he's dead and - so is - oh Merlin-" She closed her eyes briefly, her voice breaking as if she couldn't bear to say the next words. "I c-can't even ... Percy - Percy's-"

Even in his dreams, she never got to finish that sentence.

Hitting her from behind, and in front of Harry's very own stricken eyes, was a light; a bright, disastrously green light.

Mouth still partially open, as if mid-word, and unshed tears still in her grief-stricken eyes, Ginny's whole body froze in one solitary action. Everything else seemed to freeze in that moment too, Harry's heart included, and he could only watch on in despair as the second passed and Ginny began to make her slow descent towards the ground.

Unable or unwilling to process what had just happened, Harry forgot all else and immediately rushed to catch her. His arms strained with the staggering effort as the full force of her weight hit him, and even though he tried his hardest, both their weights had him stumbling to the ground only moments later.

He hit the ground first with a painful thump, Ginny landing on top of him; face down in his lap in a way that would have looked inappropriate were the situation not so grim. Shaking uncontrollably, he spoke her name - as softly as the way his fingers gently combed through her ginger hair - and wished with all his might for an answer.

A sudden and fierce gust of wind rustled the blades of grass by his feet and lifted the fringe from his cursed forehead, but the girl still face down in his lap didn't move an inch.

Countless tears dropped onto her motionless head, and her name grew louder and louder in desperation, until he was screaming with all his might.

But still, she neither moved, nor replied to his calls.

Slow footsteps approached his position from all directions; unhurried, unworried steps.

He didn't have to wait long to find out who they belonged to. A shadow soon loomed over his shoulder, and then another, and another. Reluctantly, he raised his head to see five Death Eaters surrounding him with their wands pointed directly at his chest.

"It's over, Potter," one said, and the triumph in his voice was clear for all to hear. The others joined the mad laughter and the chanting that followed. "We've got Potter! We've got Potter!"

Harry moaned a soft cry of denial, lowering his head back down to Ginny, dear, dear Ginevra Weasley. It's not over - she can't be dead ... just can't. He rocked her body close to his. She was still so warm, surely there was the possibly that she wasn't - she'd survived against all odds before. They all had -

"Drop the girl," ordered the same Death Eater who seemed to be in charge, now sounding slightly impatient. His wand jabbed harshly into Harry's left shoulder, a harsh, brutal wake-up call that Harry wanted so badly to ignore. "And stand up slowly."

No, he wanted to shout - wanted to scream it to the world. I need - I need to stay with my closest friend's sister - need to see her beautiful face, and that cheeky grin so similar to the twins...

Tears now streaming freely down his face, the shouts of the Death Eaters faded into the background as he reached out shaking hands and gently rolled her over onto her back.

Only to reveal a motionless figure with straight white-blonde hair, and cold grey eyes staring glass-like into Harry's face ...

"Noooooooo!"

Flailing and screaming like a man possessed, James Evansson, formerly Harry Potter, woke with a start.

Taking great heaving breaths, he fought to take control of his speeding heart. When that proved unsuccessful, he shakily pushed himself up into a sitting position and automatically reached out a hand to fumble on his bedside table.

Finding nothing but his watch and an upturned glass of water, Harry realised all too late that in his disturbed state of mind, he had been searching for something he kept locked away in a box at the very back of his cupboard. Something that was only to be taken out in his darkest times.

His wand.

Tearing his eyes away from the cupboard, he dropped his head into his hands, still trembling. "Damn you, Malfoy," he whispered brokenly. "Why did you, of all people, have to come back into my life now?"

~*~