The Hunter Becomes The Hunted

The Hunter Becomes The Hunted

Every time I look upon the boy, I feel a great sense of shame. I have done many horrible, monstrous things as a Death Eater, but in the end, I mostly had no choice. I was still, in all intents and purposes, a spy for Dumbledore and I had to keep up appearances. That was why I killed and tortured those opposed to the Dark Side, that was why I turned my back on the company of decent wizards and witches to gossip and plot with some of the most vicious, cold-blooded men alive.

But what I did to that boy was unacceptable. I did that for my own, sick, twisted pleasure.

Nobody coerced me into doing anything, it was all of my own initiative. I know I wasn’t the only one to take advantage of him that way, but that still doesn’t make what I did acceptable. And the worst thing is, I don’t dare face him and tell him that it was me who raped him. Instead, I try and make it up to him with small gestures, worthless trivialities. As if giving him a few extra house points will restore my soul and relieve my guilt. As if making him a prefect will make up for his lost innocence.

He deserves everything title and honour I can give him. He has been through so much, yet he still acts as if the world had been promised to him on the day of his birth. He is a remarkable actor, no one can deny that, and he hides so much of himself that it must surely be a burden just to get up each day. I wonder if sleep is a respite for him. Sometimes it is for me, I can stop pretending to my peers that the world is fine and truly be myself, but then sometimes the nightmares are worse and I long for the daylight and sunshine, even if it is only a pretence.

He knows now, how to hide himself. As a child, Draco Malfoy always knew he was special. He was so beautiful then, so fragile, almost ethereal and could charm anything out of anyone. By being so angelically perfect, many were attracted to his side, most of them, however, only had one aim: to destroy him, to crush him, to possess him completely. I was one of those anonymous figures of the night. I saw his purity and wanted to tear it from the world. So I bound him, forced him, penetrated him, never once caring about the little boy who lay rigid with fright under my grasp.

So now he shows off. He’s arrogant, lazy, drawling. He hides his true spark of intelligence and replaces it with a calculating, devious manner. Everything he does his planned, every move he makes, word he says, he thinks carefully about the consequences. He still draws attention to himself, but in a different way. He made an enemy of Harry Potter in order to show that he wasn’t good, he wasn’t pure and that he shouldn’t be taken lightly. He’s broadcasting a message to those that hurt him, ‘Leave me alone, I’m just as much of as a bastard as you are!’ and I’m hearing him loud and clear.

I don’t think that even Dumbledore knows. None of the other staff do, that’s for sure. If they did, then maybe they’d give Draco a little more support, a little more lenience. They do for Harry Potter. I mean sure he has no parents, is the hero of the wizarding world, has fought Voldemort more times than I can count and saw a dead body once, but he still has a sense of himself, a purpose in his life and friends who know what he has faced and help him through it. Draco has no one. His father wouldn’t let him discuss anything that Draco saw within ‘Chateau Malfoy’ as he so delightfully calls it and even if he did, I don’t think that any of the other Slytherins would even begin to be able to understand the enormity of what Draco has been through.

So I do what I can. I ignore it when Draco starts a fight. I give him house points for things that even a first year can do. I ridicule Granger, Potter and Weasley for him as often as possible. Why do I get the feeling that this will never ever make up for what I have done?

I taught the fifth years today — Gryffindor and Slytherin. Longbottom melted what must have been his twentieth cauldron (note to self: his grandmother must be richer than I thought, having to constantly replace Neville’s supplies would amount to a sizeable percentage of the salary of a Hogwarts’ professor). Granger did, admittedly, almost make a perfect Antitoxin Solution, though she needs to rely on her instincts more, rather than what she reads in the textbook. Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson managed to release a family of toads into Brown’s schoolbag. However their plan backfired when Brown swept up the toads in her arms and nuzzled them affectionately. I must give credit to Miss Brown for that, I’d never had expected her to be so cool about the whole affair.

Potter, Weasley and Thomas all worked to produce an average potion. Why they think I’m unfair with my marking, I don’t know. Their Solution would have delayed a poison for about half a minute, when the correct result would have kept the victim alive for over an hour. I don’t see how they could expect their pitiful effort to win them full marks. The rest of the students worked without much hassle: I did note however that Bulstrode has improved significantly over the past few weeks, She earned more points in one lesson than she did in the whole of last month. I’ll send her parents an owl about it, maybe that will keep them off her back.

I always leave Draco until last. Is that a sign of guilt? I don’t know. I know that I will never see things objectively when they concern him because my feelings about him are just too complex. Despite my self-disgust, I still find myself admiring almost everything about him. His intelligence, concentration and wit surely outclass most other students that there have ever been at Hogwarts. If only he would admit to himself that he was worth something and realise that he didn’t need to wear his façade to protect himself anymore. Lucius scolds him because of his grades. Lucius tortures him because he lets Granger beat him in the exams. Draco doesn’t care though. He would rather face torture than attract the attentions of sadistic old men again, myself included.

Of course, he’s still beautiful.

And his potion was perfect.

During dinner I watched Professors Flitwick and McGonagall carefully. They were laughing and joking in a way that I hadn’t done in years. In a way that I wasn’t sure was possible once you reached the age of seventy, but Minerva still had it in her. I wondered if that was how you could tell if someone had lived a good life. I never laughed like that anymore. Neither did Draco.

I made my way over to the Slytherin table, abandoning the falsification that I was actually interested in the food and looked to a couple of third year girls who Madame Pomfrey had asked me to keep an eye on. Both had ended up with incredibly bad rashes after an accident in Herbology and if there was any slight relapse, I was to send them straight back to her for another dose of salve. They were both perfectly all right, which I was not in the least surprised about, since Pomfrey always has been incredibly careful about the health of our students.

"Professor Snape?"

I heard Draco call my name, respectfully as always. I was curious to what he wanted, but whatever it was, I was willing to hear him out at least.

Standing beside him, I could see that he had eaten very little. He never really did. I had asked him about it once, but he waved me away with a half-hearted shrug declaring that eating any more would just make him too fat for Quidditch. I never told him that eating any less would make him anorexic.

"I was wondering sir, if I could use the Potions classroom to practise making a Revitalising Potion. I missed the lesson last week and am anxious to keep all my work up-to-date."

I knew that there was something not quite truthful about his request, but I also knew that Draco Malfoy was very cunning. Even if I watched him constantly, the entire time, I would only see him make a Revitalising Potion and would never discover what his original intention was.

"Of course. If you need anything from the Student Supply Cupboard then go ahead and take it. It needs replenishing anyway and a few less eyeballs won’t make that much difference."

"Thank you sir," he said and turned back to the table and drank deeply from his goblet, finishing off whatever he had been drinking.

I felt a rustle beside me as Parkinson and Goyle swapped places. Imperiously, I returned to the staff table, seeing that my presence was no longer wanted. Draco and Pansy Parkinson held a quick whispered conference, during which she pressed something fervently into his hand. He kissed her briefly on the cheek in thanks before heading off in the direction of the Slytherin common room and the Potions classroom.

Even though I knew that the kiss was chaste and probably just Draco’s way of keeping the Parkinson girl’s loyalty, I did still feel slightly jealous. Absolutely disgusted with myself, I angrily spooned down some ice-cream, ironically thinking that it would never taste as sweet to me as Draco did. Shit. Had I actually just thought that? It was six years ago for Christ’s sake and he was only ten years old! I was a fucking child molester and I liked it! What the hell was Dumbledore doing trusting me around all these kids?

I knew then what I had to do. I knew that even though this was the only job that I had ever dreamt of, I had to give it up. To protect the children. At least Lupin was a good-natured, golden-hearted Gryffindor. He’d never have placed anyone in danger if he could help it. Not even me and I realise that now, nearly twenty damned years too late. I stumbled from the Great Hall and fled immediately to my bedroom.

It took quite some time for me to calm down enough to start packing things untidily away in a suitcase. I started stuffing my many identical black robes into another case when I realised with horror which one it was. It had been given to me when I became Draco’s godfather. Lucius had hexed it so that only he and I would ever be able to see truly what was inside. Angrily I lit a fire in the fireplace opposite my favourite chair and threw the case upon it, watching with some relief when it finally fell away with the charred pieces of ash.

It was as if I had lived in denial for all these years. I had raped my godson and enjoyed it. I was a fucking disgrace to my family and to all those who had ever believed in me, Draco included.

I wasn’t planning on telling Dumbledore, I was too ashamed of myself for that. I wasn’t planning on handing myself over to the Ministry either, I was too cowardly and too pathetic for that. Knowing that it was horribly unfair, yet it was the only thing that I could feasibly do, I planned to go to Draco himself and let him decide my fate.

At least he’d be alone in the Potions workroom now. Most Slytherins were not fond of extra-curricular activity in standard subjects, preferring to spend their time practising more illegal and dangerous arts.

I smoothed my hair down, straightened my robes and marched quickly to the Potions classroom, my resolve faltering with every step.

Sure enough, I found Draco with a shimmering Revitalising Potion on his desk. As I glanced through the door, I saw him hunched over his cauldron, busily comparing two samples that he held easily in his right hand. I recognised the procedure easily enough. It was a standard potion, often used by those working in the Detective departments of the Ministry of Magic. You took two samples, hair, blood, skin, whatever and mixed them in the Matching Potion, If both samples came from the same person, then the solution turned green, if they came from different people, they turned red. If they came from members of the same family, they would turn a sort of brown colour.

One of the vials that Draco held had turned green, the other red. I wondered what he was testing for.

"Ten points to Slytherin," I said.

He didn’t even flinch at my unexpected announcement, just carelessly brushed his hair away from his face and set the vials he had been holding carefully down on the desk in front of him. "Are you going somewhere Professor?" he asked, seeing the case in my hand.

"I have to," I said wearily, "I’ve done things I regret and…"

He interrupted me, his voice tinged with bitter sense of irony, "Like me?"

I looked at him properly and winced at the clarity with which he stared back. "Listen Draco…"

"No you listen," he didn’t seem angry, though he had every right to be, just very controlled. "I didn’t know until now that you were one of the ones who raped me and I’m not really surprised. In fact, I’d have been ashamed of you if you hadn’t. Isn’t that one of the ideals of Slytherin? To take advantage of whatever and whoever you can? Being our Head of House, I expect you to embody these ideals."

I nodded breathlessly to the samples, "Is that how you knew?"

"Yes," he said defiantly, "You left your mark on me in more ways than one back then and Pansy was good enough to get me one of your hairs at dinner when you were preoccupied and talking to me." He tossed the vial containing the green solution towards me and I caught it instinctively. "There you go. Take the evidence and destroy it. I know what I need to now."

"What do you want me to do? I can go to Azkaban if it you think that…"

He was being clever, manipulative, never letting me finish my sentences and second-guessing everything I was going to say. Lucius would have been proud.

"The cells of Azkaban would be filled twice over if everyone who fucked me was put in there," he said. "I suppose I should be proud. Potter was the Boy Who Lived and I was the Boy Who All the Death Eaters and Their Friends Screwed." He smiled, a true Malfoy smile. "And anyway, why would I want to lock you in Azkaban when there are so many things that you could be doing for me in order to protect your secret?"

I understood then that he certainly had all the power. I was astonished by the fact that he could take everything so calmly and so rationally. He was almost the incarnation of Slytherin himself, Voldemort would certainly try to recruit him before he graduated. "I was planning on leaving Hogwarts. I shouldn’t stay here, shouldn’t be allowed near you."

"Never mind dear," he said patronisingly, "It doesn’t bother me. I mean, why wouldn’t you have wanted to fuck me? At least I now know that I can put you in the same category as my father, the fathers of most of my friends, Voldemort himself and the half of the school who aren’t blinded by the ridiculous charms of Harry Potter."

"Voldemort?" I whispered.

"Come now Severus. You know that he spent most of the summer hiding out at my father’s secret retreat in Switzerland. He wasn’t there for the scenery you know." Draco leant back from his stool, placing his hands on his hips and smiling innocently.

I was shocked. Astounded. And definitely scared. Draco Malfoy was surely no ordinary boy. He was definitely not taking this as I expected.

"No clever come back I see." He yawned.

"I can leave if you want."

"Of course you would. You would probably poison yourself if I asked you to." He left the threat hanging in the air. "I don’t want anything. I want you to leave me alone as much as possible. I want you to stop giving me house points when I don’t deserve them. I want you to stop treating me favourably as if I meant something to you. You shouldn’t feel guilty, it’s an entirely useless and overrated emotion. All I want you to remember is that you owe me big time Severus and I will never forget it."

He picked up his bag from the desk and slung it casually over one shoulder. Then he strutted to the door, pushing past me as he stepped into the corridor. I made no move to stop him. He turned back to me and smiled, "You might want to drink that Revitalising Potion, you’re looking a little pale."

I stared motionlessly after him as he wandered down the corridor, before he turned a corner and he was out of my sight. Trembling, I picked up the potion he had made and drank it slowly, feeling some of the shock I had suffered from beginning to wear off. I threw the green solution that proved my guilt as hard as I could to the ground, watching with some satisfaction as the glass shattered and the potion dribbled amongst the stones in the floor. Some Hufflepuff would probably end up scrubbing that for their next detention.

I glanced at the magical clock that hung upon the classroom wall. I was expected in a meeting in only a few minutes and I still had a couple of notes that I needed to prepare. I returned my suitcase to its former home inside my wardrobe and headed to the staff meeting with a grim sense of resignation.

My secret was still safe, locked up tight amongst the shell of bitter memories.

But Draco now had the key.

My life, my career, my future, lay in the hands of a sixteen-year-old prostitute for the Dark Lord.

I knew I didn’t have a hope.

And I was right.

THE END