Things Fall Apart

Chapter Two, Draco: It's Cold Outside, But There's All Kinds of Atmosphere

Draco was cold. Cold, shivering and alone. Why hadn't he just killed the old fool? The man had never given him any reason not to. Now here he was, waiting for Snape; hungry, scared and alone. An outcast - no, an outlaw. Brilliant. Potter, according to Snape, whose sources were limited, was not at Hogwarts this year. At least Potter wasn't comfortable either, but it meant a large scale search, leaving him propped up against a cave wall, too exhausted to move.

He hoped Snape would be back soon. How long had it been now? A day? More. It had been months since his flight from Hogwarts. Merlin, a new school year had started. He felt about his robes for his wand - not that he was allowed to use it. Not just outcast from his family but from the whole damned wizarding world.

"Fuck," he said, tasting it on his lips. His father hated it. It was a dirty muggle word. His father was a hypocrite. The Malfoy name he'd always waxed so lyrical about, what had that meant to him? Crawling to a mudblood, offering up his heir. Oh, yes, he knew Voldemort's dirty little secret. He had always been a more capable espionage agent than anyone had given him credit for. Although that particular tidbit had come from Dumbledore, via Snape, of course.

"Yes. Voldemort and his dirty blood," he said aloud without much enthusiasm.

"What are you doing?" hissed a voice he recognised as Snape's.

"I was only whispering," he said, struggling not to appear as grateful for Snape's presence as he felt.

"No, not that you foolish boy! His name. He took that name when he rejected ... those constraints that had been placed on him. His name, unlike yours or mine, was willingly chosen, and it is a part of that oath. Don't say his name again. Not aloud - and not silently, if you can help it."

"Yes, Sir," he said sulkily, noticing that Snape had not brought any food. "Did you bring anything to eat?"

"I left it outside."

"Why?"

"Because you have to concentrate, Draco. Three words: gumdrops, jazz and frog. They shouldn't mean anything to you and don't try to find out what it means to me. I'll let you know when you need to and not before."

"Yes Sir."

"You may call me Severus," said Snape, looking around the cave. "You won't have to be here for much longer. I'm arranging somewhere for you to stay."

Draco was unable to quash the idea of Malfoy Manor. Perhaps his father had relented.

"It won't be like Malfoy Manor, but you will be warm and fed. I do have to warn you, though, there will be a price. The person I have in mind is your former Professor Slughorn."

"Professor Slughorn?! You have to be joking!"

"Mr. Malfoy, you are not at home here. You will not be going home. It is him or this."

"Fine," he said resignedly, "so that's the only cost, then? Him?"

"No. You will be working for the Order of the Phoenix."

"The Order of the Phoenix?"

"Are you a boy or a parrot? Yes, the Order of the Phoenix. It's Dumbledore's organization... or was. You may have to work with..." He paused, before spitting, "Potter."

"Professor! - Severus!"

"Draco! You are no longer a Malfoy! Would you rather freeze? Or starve?"

"Fine."

"Thank you, Severus," said Snape irritably.

Draco glared at the ground, "I'm hungry," he said.

"You're also very ungrateful," said Snape, but more kindly than Draco had expected. He stood up, left the cave, and returned with food. Stale bread and undercooked fish. Draco could not remember the last time he'd found anything so appetising.

"Thank you," said Draco between bites of food, "Severus."

"That's alright. I've brought you a sleeping bag. You should sleep. I've set up some muggle traps around the cave, I'd set up magical ones, but it would attract far too much attention. The muggle ones should, at any rate, protect you from non-magical predators. And perhaps some of the stupider magical ones."

"Like Potter," said Draco.

Snape smiled, and said, "Sleep, now. I will stay in the area." He produced the sleeping back from a knapsack he had been carrying and handed it to Draco. While Draco crawled into it, Snape stood up and began to examine the cave. Draco watched him for as long as he could keep his eyes open, which wasn't long, then fell asleep.

When he dreamed, he was back in Malfoy Manor, chasing something. He didn't know what. He felt he had to save someone. It was Snape. Snape was being pursued, and Draco was chasing his pursuer.

"I'll kill you, you dirty turncoat!" came the voice ahead of him. Who was it? Voldemort? It didn't seem high-pitched enough, but the emotion cracking it was explanation enough for that. Voldemort had found out about him, found out that Snape was harbouring him. He tried to catch up, but he wasn't fast enough. His leg wasn't moving properly and when he looked down, he realised why. His father's wand had been plunged into his thigh like a knife. Why? Why hadn't his father just cast something? What was happening?

He began to wake up and his dream changed. He was a ship, floating out to sea. The waves rocked him and he fell back to sleep.

When he woke, Snape was sitting near him, studying a map. Draco rolled over and Snape turned around.

"Ah," he said, "You are awake. While you were asleep you began muttering the Dark Lord's name repeatedly. I was forced to cast a Calming Sleep charm on you. You must tell me - and this is very important - what were you dreaming about?"

"I'm not sure," he said honestly.

Snape narrowed his eyes, "Draco," he said, "I am taking a great risk keeping you here, a risk I am more than willing to take -so long as you are honest with me."

"I'm not sure. I was chasing somebody, Voldemort, I think. He was chasing you. Father's wand was in my thigh. He, Voldemort, called you a dirty turncoat."

"A dirty turncoat?" said Snape. "Where have I heard that before?" He didn't seem to mean it rhetorically.

"I don't know, Sir," said Draco for the sake of having something to say.

"Severus," said Snape. "Not Sir. I am no longer a professor."

"Sorry S--Severus," said Draco akwardly.

"Where were you?" asked Snape.

"I, uh, in the dream?"

"Yes, in the dream."

"Malfoy Manor. But--I think it changed. Right near the end. When I realised Father's wand was in my thigh."

"Changed to where?"

"I'm not sure--Severus."

"Interesting. You've not had a history of premonitionary dreams, have you Draco?"

"Well, no, not really. I thought I did once, but I was wrong."

Snape raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Severus," said Draco, the name still feeling foreign on his lips, "what would happen if--if the Dark Lord found out about me?"

"He will not," said Snape. Then, "I have to go away again. I will return as soon as is safe for both of us. Stay here and stay quiet. I'll return for you."

"Okay," said Draco, fighting a sudden overwhelming urge to cry.

Snape took something out of his pocket. "If I am not back in two days, open this package. Do not open it before then. The sun will rise in a little over an hour," he said, checking his watch, "that's three dawns you are to wait through before you open this package. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Severus," said Draco, "Okay."

"Okay," said Snape as he left.

"Okay," said Draco again to the darkness left by Snape's departure. "Okay."

************************

Draco was sleeping. The traps had been disarmed. Two of them, anyway. He'd only ventured outside the cave once, to get fish and water. It hadn't been enough, but it had stopped the hunger pains. He heard a noise and woke up. It had been a voice saying 'Lumos'.

It's not Voldemort, Voldemort can see in the dark. It's okay. Just stay very quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Don't breathe too loudly. It's just Snape. Snape. Snape is here. Please don't be Death Eaters. Please don't be Death Eaters.

"Malfoy! Are you in here?"

Much worse than Death Eaters. Potter.

"What," he paused to breathe, "are you doing here Potter?"

"Just dropping something off. You look terrible," he said cheerily, letting something fall to the ground.

"Sod off, Potter."

Potter aimed his wand at the stone he'd just dropped and muttered something unintelligible.

"Portkey," he said. "It'll take you to Slughorn."

"Wonderful."

"You just don't like him because he didn't fawn all over you," said Potter.

"Oh, right. I forgot he was a card-carrying member of the Potter Appreciation Society. Oh, well, I suppose orphans need that sort of thing."

"Look, shut up, Malfoy. You're not much better than an orphan these days, from what I hear. Just take your bloody Portkey."

There was a pop and Potter was gone before Draco had a chance to retort. Bastard. He tried to stand but fell back against the wall, dizzy. Brilliant. He reached across to the Portkey, just touching it with his fingers. He felt a familiar jerk, spun around a few times and was deposited heavily on the ground.

"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy," said Slugohorn, disinterestedly.

"I'm going to be sick," said Draco, and was.

"That's a new carpet," said Slughorn, waving his wand over the vomit. It turned into a rabbit and hopped out the door.

"What the--?" said Draco.

"I'm not as talented at Charms as so many of the youngsters I've taught," said Slughorn by way of explanation.

"Do you have anything to eat?"

"What? After I've just cleaned up that mess? I don't think so."

"Professor!"

"Fine, fine. But you'll have to get it yourself," he said, waving airily in what must have been the direction of the kitchen.

Draco tried again to stand, but failed.

"Very well," said Slughorn, lifting Draco onto a nearby couch.

He returned a few minutes later with a bowl of soup and two slices of toast. "Eat what you can of that," he said.

Draco picked at it desultorily.

"Does Snape know I'm here?" asked Draco.

"I should think so. Owes me a very pretty favour for it."

"Is he coming to see me?"

"Perhaps. But you'll have to make yourself useful to me. Headmaster McGonagall does not trust me and never has, probably with good reason," he added with a self-satisfied smirk. "You are to be useful to her and thereby to me."

"But you said Snape already owed you a favour!"

"Content to let your debts be shouldered by others, are you? Your father was like that, at least while I taught him. It sounds useful enough but not really advisable. Don't want to owe too many people unnecessarily, do you? No, you'll make yourself useful to me."

Draco decided to forego the obvious rebuttal - that Slughorn's response was almost entirely irrelevant - in favour of continuing to eat.

"You can start," said Slughorn, "by answering some questions young Harry Potter has left with me. Bright young lad, that one, and so polite."

Why did everything always come back to Potter? Slughorn handed him a sheet of questions entitled simply, 'Death Eater Activity in the South of England'.

1. Is Lucius Malfoy a Death Eater?

Potter already knew the answer to that question. Draco imagined him smirking to himself as he wrote it. He scrunched up the paper and threw it away.

"You said I had to help McGonagall," he said. "I'm not helping bloody Potter."

"I'm afraid you do not have a choice."

"I do. When my father comes back for me -" he stopped. Slughorn had arranged his features into a rough approximation of compassion. Patronizing twat.

"Mr. Malfoy, your father is a man I can say I know quite well, and, my boy -"

"Just shut up. I'm not your boy. And you don't know my father. I do. I'm his son!"

"Well, well, perhaps I underestimated how draining your time in hiding has been. You should sleep," said Slughorn with that same stupid expression on his face.

"I don't need to sleep," said Draco, fighting back a yawn and pretending he didn't notice how ridiculous he sounded.

"Come now, Mr. Malfoy, determination is a virtue, pigheadedness is not." He aimed his wand at the couch and Transfigured it into a bed. A very comfortable bed, with a very comfortable pillow. Draco turned angrily away from Slughorn, but hadn't the energy to do it with much enthusiasm. He fell asleep almost instantly and did not dream.

When he woke, McGonagall was drinking tea with Slughorn, stern and thin-lipped as ever. On noticing he was awake, she launched straight into what sounded like a pre-prepared speech, although most of what McGonagall said sounded that way.

"Mr. Malfoy, I see you are awake," she said before getting straight to the point. "I take a very dim view of the -contract into which I understand you entered." Here she paused and looked down at the tea in her hand. "However," she went on, "Professor Slughorn has made clear to me certain circumstances surrounding your decision. While I cannot, and shall not, allow you back to Hogwarts, I shall, to keep you from doing anything even more heinous, allow you to stay on here with Professor Slughorn. I have granted Professor Slughorn leave to reside here while alternate arrangements are made. This is, of course, a great inconvenience to Professor Slughorn, and should I hear any report of you that paints you as anything but grateful and remorseful, I shall seriously reconsider my decision to be lenient."

Lenient?! Thought Draco, but he said, "Yes, ma'am." He was humiliated, again. And furious.

"Very good," she said. She then placed her up tea back on the table in front of her, took her leave of Slughorn walked out the front door and Disapparated.

"There," said Slughorn, "you see? Grateful and remorseful. Your first task is to aid Harry Potter in gathering information. You can begin by filling out that questionnaire, but he has promised me a visit at some point this week, and when he arrives, I expect you to help him further.

It just keeps getting better, thought Draco, longing for his cave.