Descent into Darkness

Snape crouched so that his eyes were level with DracoÂ’s. "You know you canÂ’t just opt out of joining him. YouÂ’ll have to fight against him; heÂ’ll target you specifically."

"Well, IÂ’ve spent most of my life dodging one dark and vicious father-figure anyway. IÂ’ve had more practice then most."

"But do you want to? Fight, I mean."

There was a long pause, "No," Draco replied in a monotone. "I really donÂ’t."

"Then you will be leaving us; we canÂ’t protect you now." Snape rose to leave.

"How long?" asked Draco. "How long before I have to leave?"

"That, Mr. Malfoy, is up to you." Snape turned away.

"Wait!" DracoÂ’s voice resonated with familiar authority and conviction.

Snape turned back and saw that Draco had got to his feet. He regarded the slight young man dispassionately. "Yes?"

Draco looked back at him steadily. "Is there any chance of getting out of here?" He indicated the dingy surroundings. "ItÂ’s not really very me, is it?"

Snape inclined his head. "Perhaps we might continue this discussion in my office?"

****

Harry staggered down the corridor, trying to shake the effects of numerous drinks the day before. "If I ever go near Absinthe again, you have my permission to kill me," he focused enough to find himself talking to a suit of armour. "On second thoughts, forget that." He nodded sagely, and reasoned that it was probably the cherry syrup cocktails that brought on his immense hangover. And possibly the purple paper umbrella he had mistakenly inhaled up his left nostril.

He made his way to DumbledoreÂ’s office and crumpled onto a handy bench. "How long have you been there?" he said to Hermione, who seemed to have materialised by his side.

He looked away queasily as Hermione shook her hair back. "IÂ’ve been behind you since you left Gryffindor."

"Really?" Harry asked with genuine surprise.

Hermione looked at him with concern, "You know, Seamus doesnÂ’t look half as bad as you do."

Harry braced his hands against the seat to prevent slipping further towards the floor. "Yeah well, heÂ’s got Guinness for blood, hasnÂ’t he?"

Hermione didnÂ’t smile, "Oh Harry, you canÂ’t see Professor Dumbledore like this. Do want a sobering charm?" She pulled out her wand and suddenly the world righted itself in HarryÂ’s eyes.

"I suppose an Alco-seltzerÂ’s out of the question?" He winced as his headache returned.

"Let it be a lesson to you," Hermione said in her best schoolmistress tone. "Now, are you going to tell me why you got completely plastered?"

He glumly pulled fragments of beer mat out of his hair. "I just wanted to stop thinking. I canÂ’t handle this, itÂ’s too weird."

"YouÂ’re getting used to the idea that MalfoyÂ’s a good guy?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah Hermione, heÂ’s an angel; the horns are just there to hold up the halo."

Hermione looked confused. "But Harry, you said so yourself that you thought differently of him after you talked to him in the common room."

Harry waved his hand airily. "ThatÂ’s becauseÂ… because he tricked me. HeÂ’s a persuasive, conniving git."

"You canÂ’t say that! Not now you know what the Slytherins have been doing all this time."

Yes I can," Harry replied stubbornly. He attempted to evade HermioneÂ’s topic. "And where did Seamus get to anyway?"

"He went to the infirmary to see Ginny. Harry-"

"Ah well, heÂ’s a nice enough guy." He stood, as if to indicate that ended the conversation.

"Harry," Hermione persisted, "What are you going to do about Ron?"

"Ron who?" he said flippantly, staring off down the corridor.

"ThatÂ’s harsh, Harry!" she said warningly. "HeÂ’s been through a lot."

"Well, so have I!" he retorted without thinking.

Hermione seized the opportunity. "Yes, you have and weÂ’ve always been there for you. Even when people hated you and thought you were responsible for some awful things. Even though some people still think you helped bring Voldemort back."

She stopped suddenly, knowing she had probably gone too far. He stared at her without expression. "Just talk to him, Harry," she pleaded. "ThatÂ’s all."

The statue guarding DumbledoreÂ’s office slid to one side and Professor McGonagall stepped out. "Ah, Potter," she said briskly, "the Head will see you now."

****

SnapeÂ’s office was a room Draco had become all-too-familiar with during his time at Hogwarts. Not because he was the type to persistently fall foul of the Potions Master, but from the early days Snape had appeared to find it imperative to closely monitor his progress. DracoÂ’s natural aptitude for Potions had been encouraged; Draco privately believed Snape would do anything, anything, to prevent him from living up to his fatherÂ’s expectations. Somehow he had managed to strike a balance, the right academic achievements (although not enough to beat Granger), and the Quidditch success was important (although he would always be the 2^nd best Seeker so long as Potter was around). In addition, he had developed a covert interest in the Dark Arts, pleasing his father while concealing it from Snape. But when the resistance had started, that was when the problems began. Draco faced the alarming prospect of betraying his destiny allied with Housemates who were deeply unexceptional. And all the while he saw Ron; fired with loyalty and bravery constantly overshadowed by Potter.

He couldnÂ’t identify when it had started. Certainly Weasley had always had an effect on him. Draco had enjoyed antagonising him because the reaction was so explosive, but back then he had thought he did it because he was honouring some family feud and asserting his superiority. ThenÂ… something changed.

Back in the present he found himself sat opposite his Housemaster in the claustrophobic surroundings. The room seemed to reject all warmth and light, the sunlight sifting through the windows dissolved into dust and shadow-particles, and in the grate the coals glowed faintly. The moss-tinted walls were lined with shelves of specimens and potions equipment, including a particularly fine set of gold scales that Draco had always admired. Everything was fastidiously neat, from the copperplate writing on each jar, to the parchment stacks of assignments on the desk.

Draco was only dimly aware of the silence that had gripped the atmosphere since they had arrived at the office. Presumably, Snape wanted him to confess, to say that he was partly responsible for the spells that had allowed his father and associates to be located by ministry Aurors, and the stupefying charms that led to his fatherÂ’s demise; but he didnÂ’t feel inclined.

Snape looked at him pointedly. Draco stared past him at a jar of pickled Hinkypunks. Snape cleared his throat and Draco silently chalked up a point to him in the "significant silences and associated dramatic pauses" game.

"Professor Dumbledore, in his wisdom, has indicated that you are a wizard of great potential."

Draco smirked. "Yeah, potential to torture, maim, deceiveÂ…"

Snape glared at him. "Mr. Malfoy, this self-defeating attitude will get you nowhere in life. Right now I doubt you could even cut it as a Death Eater, destiny or not."

"Is that so?" he responded, now examining his chipped fingernails.

Snape sat back. "Perhaps youÂ’re right." His eyebrow twitched. "Certainly the magic involved in breaking the protection and concealing charms your father and the others cast is highly advanced." He watched DracoÂ’s face. "Although any fool with an invisibility cloak could steal the require texts from the restricted section of the library."

A micro-expression, a slight frown of indignation was enough to confirm SnapeÂ’s suspicions. He leaned forward. "You and the other SlytherinsÂ… well, mainly you," he amended, "have indicated what many of us among the senior staff have been hoping for." He waited. "Mr. Malfoy!" he snapped in annoyance, jolting Draco out of an apparently bored stupor.

Draco looked up warily. He was about to respond when a flutter of wings at the window distracted them both. Snape let in a barn owl. It landed on the desk and puffed its feathers pompously. Draco realised it was a ministry owl, and one of many now flying back and forth past the window. Snape removed the note from its leg and, unable to find any coins, gave it a pickled mouse. The owl took off and Snape scanned the letter.

"Is it about me?"

Snape crumpled up the parchment. "Among other things. Weasley also."

"Ron?" Draco was alarmed, surely the ministry didnÂ’t need to know everything.

Snape was momentarily amused. "No, Miss Weasley. Regarding the use of a forbidden Imperius curse by one of my students."

"Oh." Draco was relieved, and then took in the full implication. "What! TheyÂ’re more concerned with that then the possibility I might become a Death Eater?"

His Housemaster looked at him seriously. "Actually, they suggest that use of a forbidden curse so effectively at such a young age indicates that you are already in the thrall of the Dark Lord. They also suggest some form of confinement might be in order."

Draco glowered back at him. "ThatÂ’s typical. They think any type of advanced magic has to be evil. TheyÂ’re so bureaucratic. My father always saysÂ… saidÂ…" He trailed off. "ThatÂ’s probably not too prudent just now."

Snape nodded. "Indeed. As I was saying - "

"Wait, why are there so many owls flying past?"

"Mr. Malfoy, you must understand that everyone in the wizarding world will have heard of the death of your father. The ramifications are incalculable. I suspect every school governor and ministry official will be writing to the Headmaster to express their concern." He paused. "This might just be the turning point; you do realise that were you to join the Death Eaters a large percentage of Slytherin House would follow you."

"So, itÂ’s just down to me? ThatÂ’s hardly fair."

"Noblesse oblige. The consequences of leadership, but you knew all this already." Snape watched the young man sink back into silent contemplation. It was unfair to suppose what he had been through all those years ago was like DracoÂ’s predicament. Severus had at best been reasonably well respected within his own house. Among the Death Eaters he had shared only limited confidence. His inscrutability and autonomy had allowed him to break away on his own. In contrast Draco had all the charisma and willful personality traits associated with leaders. And the arrogance and delusions of immortality that could bring him down. Unless someone was there to keep him sane...

Snape began to draft a response to the ministryÂ’s note. Draco followed the progress of the quill against the parchment without really seeing it. He blinked slowly, as if waking. "What was the other thing, that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Ah, so you were listening." Snape dropped the quill into an inkpot. "Professor Dumbledore has asked each Housemaster to select students they believe possess certain qualities. Qualities they believe would make them particularly adept at fighting dark forces."

Draco stared at him with incomprehension and then laughed in disbelief. "You want me to be an Auror!"

Snape smiled icily as Draco continued to shake with barely repressed mirth. "Perhaps; it is one option among others. Is that so strange? YouÂ’ve already helped defeat one dark wizard."

Draco abruptly sobered. "That was my father." He raised an eyebrow. "For all you know I might have ordered him killed because I wanted to take his place." He stared at Snape, his clear grey eyes unnerving, and he knew it.

The Professor held his gaze and said softly, "Your rather dramatic reaction on hearing of your fatherÂ’s death suggested otherwise. You thought another Death Eater would be dispatched. You wanted his followers to be agitated, to question his leadership skills. Now with him goneÂ…" Snape frowned. "Well, I would guess that unless Lord Voldemort himself resurfaces another homicidal maniac will have to take your fatherÂ’s place."

"They’ll have to put an ad in the Death Eater Tribune: ‘Elitist dark-lord-worshipping group seeks new leader, must have pureblood and optional GSOH (no time-wasters please)’." Draco sighed harshly. "Alright, if I agree to this pre-Auror stuff, what will happen now?"

"You can stay at Hogwarts. Complete your NEWTs, play Quidditch, all as it was before. But instead of spending your evenings trying to teach yourself advanced magic you will join a group of final year students and be taught by senior staff. After you graduate you will continue your studies in London."

Draco considered this. "And am I bound by some magical contract to work for the ministry?"

"No."

There was that clear-eyed stare again, only this time accompanied by a definite smirk. "Then whatÂ’s to stop me using my powers for evil?"

Snape picked up his quill again. "That will be all, Mr. Malfoy. You may return to your house. Or perhaps you might like to see Mr. Weasley."

DracoÂ’s eyes widened in surprise. "And thatÂ’s alright with the school?"

Snape concentrated on the parchment. "Unfortunately most of the staff seem unable to comprehend the nature of your relationship and there is nothing in the rules to prevent a guest being invited into another student's house in senior years, although we donÂ’t advertise it. However - " He paused and dipped the quill into the ink, before resuming writing. "There are rules regarding the improper use of the Astronomy tower rooms out of school hours."

"IÂ’ll try and remember that," Draco said lightly. He was aware that Snape appeared less then pleased with the decision of the school board. "Does that rule also apply to supply cupboards and the broom shed?"

The nib of the quill snapped. Snape blotted the split ink with the sleeve of his robe. "Mr. Malfoy, I am aware that most of the student population are convinced I am some kind of sexual deviant."

Draco saw no reason to deny it. "And?"

"And I am unwilling for this reputation to spread to Slytherin house." He looked up in annoyance. "Be discreet. And that will be all."

Leaving the office, Draco stood alone in the corridor. He looked first in the direction of the steps out of the dungeons, and then down the corridor to Slytherin house. "What now?" he wondered aloud.