The Sun Sets Twice Again

Chapter Fifteen

Draco Malfoy had never been one to do things in halves; in fact, his world, for as long as he could remember it, had always been filled with a static state of extremes. Yes and no. Cold and burning. Pride and disgust. Approval and anger. Pure and tainted. And at the focus of these extremes was Lucius Malfoy- his father, his teacher, his idol. So really, Draco wasn't that surprised when instead of crumbling quietly around him his world decided to collapse in one large, fell swoop of pain and misery.

The verdict had come late in the evening, nearly forty-eight hours previous to now: Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to life in Azkaban. His father was as good as dead.

Draco had spent the better part of that night throwing up until he was literally spitting out blood. He supposed he should feel fortunate that his mother had a particular talent for healing charms, of all things, and because of that he had been saved from the embarrassing experience of explaining how he got in this condition to a medi-wizard or witch. He was fairly sure that he probably wouldn't have been able to explain why it had happened and how he had done it to himself anyway, if someone had asked. His mother didn't ask, at least; she just did the healing charms. Which was good because all he knew was that it *hurt* and that wasn't exactly an answer to any question she might have asked, had she cared to ask at all.

Now, two days later the sick feeling had finally lessened into a churning, nauseating movement in the pit of his stomach, and his head had stopped pounding at a dull, throbbing ache. It was over a week until the beginning of term at Hogwarts, but he knew that if he didn't get out of the manor now he was going to say or do something that he would regret dearly. He knew his mother meant well, of course, and what she was acting out was all just part of an elaborate plan to help and protect herself and him. His mother was merely playing on the misconceptions of the public.

The public, the Ministry, the side of light as a whole, was so willing to believe the carefully planned out lies, to believe the absolute worst of his father without a protest. It made Draco want to jump up and down screaming that his father wasn't like that, that supporting the Dark Arts didn't make you a horrible person or a horrible, abusive father. His father was a proud, strong, intelligent man who believed in what he did and only did his best for Draco. So Lucius hadn't been a warm, touchy father, but he had been involved, enough to often offer advice to Draco even about small things, like his latest Potions essay. His father had *cared*. He was a great father who pushed Draco to be the best, and now he was gone and Mother was bastardizing his character, intentions, and actions. He hated it.

Which was why he was at Hogwarts now, much earlier than expected, seeking refuge from Headmaster Dumbledore of all people. Maybe Dumbledore would let him stay here. If he didn't...well, Draco had no where else to go. A big part of the plan required that Draco, and his mother, break all ties with those associated with the Death Eaters. He'd all but been ordered to stop being friends with the only people he gave a damn about. On the upside, he would no longer be expected to become a Death Eater himself, though he wasn't certain that was in his father's plans before the resurrection of You-Know-Who anyway. He didn't feel like it was a fair trade.

His life was in total collapse. Falling down like a house of cards. He couldn't rebuild it. Fuck. He wanted to talk to Snape; was he still allowed to talk to Snape? The professor liked him, right? Was it just because of his father? A lot of people liked him because of his name, but he didn't think the professor was like that. The only other people he was sure weren't like that were Vincent and Gregory, and he wasn't allowed to talk to them, he was certain of that. It'd mess up everything if he did. Oh, he hadn't even thought of that. How were they going to get along without him? They weren't as stupid as people assumed they were, but they certainly weren't that bright. They relied on him. It was a fair sort of relationship, that's why they were friends. Friends help each other like that. He helped them with their schoolwork and they helped him with people. It was a good relationship. He hated this.

He couldn't be expected not to talk to Professor Snape, right? Whether or not the man was an ex-Death Eater (Current Death Eater? Reformed Death Eater?) he was still Draco's Potions professor and Head of Slytherin House. Talking to him pretty much couldn't be avoided. Plus, Snape never favoured the Death Eater's children over the others, aside from Draco, and he didn't favour Draco because he was a Death Eater's child but because he was his parents' son and his parents had appointed Snape as his godfather back when he was born . So, talking with him wouldn't look like associating with a Voldemort sympathizer, Draco didn't think. He needed to talk to Snape anyway. Otherwise he was just going to go mad. He couldn't talk to his mother about this. She was upset herself, and dealing with everything else besides, and she was his mother. They were too much alike to ever really be able to talk to each other. They could barely be alone in the same room together before they were arguing over something. His father said it was because they were both high strung, which was true. It'd been fine when he was a child, where she encouraged the sort of behaviour she favoured herself, until he had grown up and she realized it was right annoying in most situations. Not that that stopped her, or him really. Now they didn't have Father to get in between their bickering, though. The only person he had left to talk to was Professor Snape, so his mother really couldn't tell him not to. It wouldn't be fair. She wouldn't do that to him.

Draco sighed, shifting the bag on his shoulder and his grip on his trunk. Showing up with a weightless charm cast on his things with his own wand wouldn't be the most intelligent move so he had removed it several hundred metres back. Of course, this meant he was stuck lugging his trunk and bag, which he would almost swear were heavier than himself, long enough so that his arms were beginning to throb. The pain was distracting, but not in a good way, and he longed to be down in the dungeons discussing potions with Professor Snape. He entered Hogwarts, but there was no one in sight. Good. Maybe he'd make it all the way to the professor before he had to talk to anyone. He did. The only stop he made the entire time, despite his arms, was to quickly recall what the letter informing him he was a prefect had said was the password to the Slytherin Common Room. Once inside there he set his things down, then massaging the blood back into his too white fingers, he made his way to Professor Snape's rooms.

When he knocked he heard the familiar snap of the Potion's master's voice.

"What?"

"Professor Snape, Sir. I--"

Draco didn't get any farther than that because the door swung open, revealing an irritated Severus Snape.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

Draco frowned; maybe coming here hadn't been the best idea. "I was hoping I would be allowed to stay in the Slytherin dorms until term begins, sir."

"Was?"

"Am."

"Why is that, Draco?"

Snape was using his first name; that was a good sign.

"Sir, as you are no doubt aware, my father recently...it is now just my mother and I. Frankly, I feel as if I am going mad in that house and I thought that considering how close to the beginning of term it is that Headmaster Dumbledore and yourself would be alright with me returning to Hogwarts early. I promise I would stay out of everyone's way," Draco forced himself not to wince at needing to insinuate he was ever in the way in the first place, "and do as I was told, sir, if you agreed to this."

Snape seemed to consider this for a moment and finally, still scowling, he nodded.

"Very well," he said. "Come in." Snape opened the door further and moved back and away.

Any surprise Draco felt at being invited into Professor Snape's private rooms was quickly covered up and he nodded, following the tall--then again, everyone seemed tall in comparison to him--stalking man into the dark rooms. He nearly smiled at that. Professor Snape's rooms were decorated in dark green and black, which made them look smaller than they were but also...homier. There were shelves of books decorating the walls, a few of the volumes on the top of a coffee table. The coffee table was next to an arm chair and a couch and near the fire, which was blazing brightly. The room seemed very much like the Professor to Draco. Dark, a little foreboding, but, once you got used to it, Draco was certain it would be very comfortable. He preferred black to most colours himself, even though his mother said it made him look like a ghost. But Draco figured most any colour made him look like a ghost, and black was at least striking.

"Sit. I will return shortly."

With that Professor Snape disappeared behind a closed door that seemed to lead to an office. Draco wasn't surprised that the potions' master had two separate offices and suspected that some of the more interesting, and probably some fairly illegal, potion ingredients were locked up in there. If he hadn't promised to be on his best behaviour that might warrant some late night investigation. Maybe when the school year started.

The Professor returned after a moment.

"The Headmaster will be down soon. You can request to stay here yourself."

Draco nodded. Arguing with Professor Snape over something like this was a useless endeavor. Of course, if he attempted to coddle and take care of the Slytherins' problems for them, the Slytherins would probably mutiny. They had enough people with control over their lives, as a whole, from their families. They didn't need a surrogate father-figure, they needed a teacher and maybe a mentor. Actually, Draco thought he liked Snape because Snape wasn't like his father. Snape forced him to think, not just about school but about life and what he wanted from life and why. Sometimes Professor Snape said things that contradicted Father, but that was rare enough that Draco thought he could ignore it while still getting the basic point.

"Yes, sir."

"How is your mother, Draco?"

"She's as well as can be expected, sir."

And yourself?

"And yourself?"

Good, predictable Snape. Offering to listen without actually demanding it. I'll lie, of course; I've admitted to being more upset than I care to just by being here.

"I'm dealing, sir."

Professor Snape nodded, accepting this, though Draco wasn't deluded enough to think that he believed it. However, Draco was saved from the uncomfortable compulsion to tell Snape the truth--how did the man do that?--by the arrival of Professor Dumbledore. Snape stood to greet him and Draco did the same thing.

"Headmaster, sir."

He briefly considered using his best 'little boy lost' act, but figured the Headmaster would appreciate relative honesty better, and this was all about convincing the Headmaster.

"Mr. Malfoy."

The headmaster didn't sound at all surprised and Draco wondered if that was because Professor Snape had warned him, though he hadn't seemed to be in the office long enough for that and it wasn't a particularly Snape thing to do, or because the Headmaster was just very good at covering surprise. He guessed the latter.

"What brings you to Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I was hoping I could stay here until term began, sir." Draco frowned, knowing that would not be enough explanation and continued speaking, softer than before, "Things at the Manor are...strained right now, which will all be sorted by Christmas, but for *now* I think it is doing my mother more harm than good for me to be there with her, as she has so much to deal with, and vice versa as well. Therefore I don't think it's...good for anyone for me to stay there at the moment and--" He stopped. He really didn't want to say this next part. He *really* didn't, but it was important and it was the entire reason he was there in the first place and not somewhere--anywhere--else. "And I have no where else to go." Draco made a rough sound in the back of his throat, taking his eyes off the fire that he had been watching instead of having to look at the two men in front of him, and met eyes with the Headmaster. "My mother made it very clear who I am, and am not, to associate with, so I don't have anywhere else I can go because I am *not* going to go against my mother's wishes in this. Ever." There, let the old fool take what he wanted from that.

Merlin, he hoped Snape wasn't a Death Eater, not with You-Know-Who on the rise again. Not when he couldn't be a Death Eater, as Draco had been expected would be possible ever since his father had gotten wind of the revival of the Dark Lord back in his first year at Hogwarts. It's not that he was raised to be a Death Eater, after all they had basically not existed from the time Draco was under a year old--he was one of the youngest in his class, he knew--and therefore hadn't been more than a passing worry in his father's mind. That had changed with the whole philosopher's stone issue. Father had been more distant, jumpier, and more demanding on Draco since then and it had continued to get worse with time. Father made it clear what was expected of him then, which Draco wasn't opposed to anyway because as Father said: it would help him in life. Of course, it hadn't helped Father, had it? But he didn't want to think about that when he could help it.

But, yes, if Snape was a Death Eater he had issues. Big issues. Loyalty sort of issues. He had just as good as stated he wasn't becoming a Death Eater, not that that wouldn't be clear in the coming weeks anyway, and Snape, as far as he knew, was one of his only allies left. Draco had no delusions about how difficult it was going to be to convince his classmates he was a different sort of person, especially considering he *wasn't* a different sort of person except insomuch as he no longer had his father to protect him and he had agreed with his mother to discontinue his friendships with the Slytherins he was currently around. Not that that meant he had to cut himself off from the Slytherins completely. There was Kenton Marlborough, a fourth year Slytherin who was probably one of the five people in the entire school who actually had an aptitude at and interest in Potions, and Queenie Greengrass, a quiet fifth year Slytherin girl who Draco often discussed Arithmancy with and who was a lot better at scheming than Pansy was at being needy. If he hadn't been cornered by Pansy the minute the news of the Yule Ball broke last year he probably would have asked Queenie.

"...not see where this would be a problem. We seem to be collecting students early this year."

Draco's head snapped up as the Headmaster's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Severus, if you do not mind?"

"It will be fine, Headmaster. Draco's already promised to be on his best behaviour."

Professor Snape gave him glare that was no idle threat. He wondered if he could get detention before term even started. He wondered if the professor would just lock him in the Slytherin dorms if detention wasn't allowed.

"Yes, sir," Draco said.

Those stores were definitely going to have to wait until classes were back in session.

The Headmaster was speaking again. "I'm sorry for your loss, Draco."

Draco had the sudden, flaring urge to tell Dumbledore to fuck off, because Dumbledore wasn't sorry for his loss. Dumbledore was fucking glad for his loss because that meant Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban. Bastard. He saw Professor Snape sneer at the Headmaster, his lips drawn back tightly and an eyebrow raised, from the corner of his eyesight and decided against saying anything like that.

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore ignored the professor's expression. "You may stay in the Slytherin dorms, Mr. Malfoy, if that is what you would be most comfortable with."

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore nodded, smiled, "That's settled, then. I will talk to you later, Mr. Malfoy, Severus." The Headmaster left.

The sneer dropped off of Professor Snape's face.

"I assume you are capable of getting yourself settled in, Draco."

"I am, Professor."

"Well, then, if you care to discuss anything I will be either here or in my office by the Potions' labs. Good day."

He had been dismissed. Draco stood and walked towards the door. As he left he offered a, "'Bye, Professor."

Snape waved him off.