The Long Night

The Problem of Draco

Snape was not sure how long it had been exactly that he had been sitting back in the armchair when he heard the door to the bedroom creak. Opening his eyes, he turned to see Draco emerge from the bedroom, carrying the two folded blankets on which he had been sitting earlier.

"She's sleeping quietly," he said as he shut the door carefully behind him. Snape nodded his acknowledgment of this information. He had expected it; she was a young woman in excellent health. Her native recuperative powers, combined with the effects of the potion, would have her more-or-less back to normal by the afternoon, he estimated.

"Where is Aunt Bellatrix?" Draco asked.

"She is spending the night elsewhere; she did not say where. I suppose she didn't care to sleep on the floor," Snape responded. "Oh, you take the sofa," he added.

Draco tossed the blankets onto the coffee table and sat down on the sofa, a brown vinyl eyesore not much improved by the crocheted afghan that covered it. He sat for a while, staring at the bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. He was in no mood to sleep, Snape concluded, leaning back in his chair. This was unfortunate, as Snape did not expect to catch any sleep that night, but he had hoped for at least limited solitude to assimilate recent events and cope with the night's stresses.

"How could you do it?" Draco asked accusingly, after some time.

Snape's lip curled at the imprecision of the question. It could, he reflected as he lifted his head to look at Draco, apply equally to any number of his actions that night, most of which Draco had witnessed. He decided to answer the most obvious question in the only way he could under the circumstances.

"It was necessary in order to bring your mission to a successful conclusion," he replied.

Draco hung his head. Not so proud of the mission, anymore, Snape noted with grim satisfaction. However, this reminder only served to silence him for a moment.

"I actually meant...about my mother," Draco began to explain hesitantly. "You took the Unbreakable Vow, like she asked. You...protected me from the Dark Lord-"

"It is not as if I had any choice in the matter tonight, Draco," Snape interrupted waspishly.

"Still, then you told him-" Draco persisted.

"How else do you suggest I ought to have explained my actions?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He might have killed her when you told him about the Vow!" Draco burst out.

"He would have killed us both, if I had not," Snape said with conviction. "Besides, she is of some use to him now that he has decided not to dispense with my services. The Dark Lord cannot use...more direct means to motivate you, without losing me, thanks to your mother's interference."

Draco blanched as Snape explained his reasoning, and dropped his gaze to the moth eaten rug next to the sofa. Snape leaned back in the chair. He remembered watching Narcissa run to the Dark Lord and the sick feeling in his stomach. He had known himself to be incapable of protecting her. He had believed the Dark Lord would see the benefits in leaving her alive and sane, but until her punishment had stopped.... A tremor shook his body, and he recognized that the intensity of the memory was an aftereffect of the Cruciatus Curse. He stared resolutely at the water-stained ceiling, attempting to count the brownish rings that spread from the far corner. With relief, he felt the tremor cease as he banished the memory.

"He...Dumbledore...told me that he knew all along that I was to kill him," Draco spoke up again. He sounded thoughtful now, no longer lashing out in anger.

Snape sat back up. He definitely needed to know what Dumbledore had said to Draco and the others. Had they had any time alone together, or had the others come with Draco? Now was not the time he would have chosen for this conversation. Unfortunately, it was apparent that even if he refused to keep up his end of the conversation, Draco was still going to be thinking about the night's events. It would not do for Draco to come up with his own explanations of how Dumbledore might have known.

"When was this?" Snape asked.

"Tonight. When I went up to the Tower, I found him there alone and disarmed him," Draco replied.

"Not quite alone, Draco. Potter will have heard that entire conversation," Snape corrected him.

"He told you the truth, though; he did know," Snape continued. "He spoke to me of it around the time Ronald Weasley was poisoned."

They had spoken of it then, the truth was the best way to mislead. Their first conversation on the subject, in July immediately after Draco had received his assignment, was better left unmentioned.

"He really didn't believe I would do it," Draco mused.

"That's right; the old man believed in your better nature," Snape agreed. He could not quite manage the sneer at the old man's foolishness that ought to accompany such a remark, but as Draco hid his face in his hands, it hardly mattered. That verbal dagger had hit the target. It seemed Dumbledore might have been right about the boy, after all.

"He...he even offered to hide me, to protect me from the Dark Lord," Draco said, his voice trembling slightly. Snape nodded.

"Your mother, too," Snape added coldly, twisting the knife.

Draco, his face still hidden in his hands, stifled a sob. His shoulders began to shake. Snape, who was beginning to develop a headache, rubbed his temples and sat back, waiting. Yes, for the grand finale, he would convince the boy that this was all his fault.

In a few minutes, having composed himself, Draco looked back at Snape, his eyes red.

"You knew?" he asked.

"Certainly. The old man trusted me completely," Snape said viciously. Blue eyes, gazing at him with compassion over half-moon glasses, just as the green light struck...Snape shook his head to clear it, then looked back at Draco.

"I don't know why I am telling you this," Draco said, suddenly alarmed.

Snape could see the fear in his eyes now, as the belated realization came to him that Snape must be a man who did not hesitate to break a trust.

"Draco, stop emoting, and start thinking! I watched you produce acceptable potions for five years, so I know you are capable of it," Snape said sharply.

Confusion replaced fear in Draco's eyes.

"Your innermost thoughts, Draco, especially if any of them are... ill-advised ...are doubtless safer with me than they are with you," Snape explained.

"You would tell the Dark Lord anything, if he asked," spat Draco.

The boy was right, of course. If the Dark Lord asked in the right way, he would, eventually, tell him anything. Snape shuddered, and was immediately disgusted with his lack of self-discipline. This was no time to let a random insult by a teenager, the aftereffects of his punishment, and his own imagination to get the better of him. The trick was to keep the Dark Lord from asking the right questions. He could do it, if he could stay in control of his feelings. Snape exhaled slowly.

"You are upset about your mother," he said calmly. "I understand. Nonetheless, think! Were I to learn anything that had even a remote chance of inspiring the Dark Lord to cause you harm, I would do all in my power to keep it from him. It's that, or death."

Draco looked at Snape; his eyes narrowed. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. This conversation was making the Crucio-induced headache worse, if that was possible.

"So the Vow you made to my mother would make you betray the Dark Lord," Draco said.

"Surely, Draco, you are not contemplating any disloyalty to the Dark Lord, which I would then be obliged to hide from him?" Snape countered smoothly. "Or was Dumbledore right? Do you lack the will and the desire to be a true Death Eater?"

"That is none of your business!" Draco said, his voice high. His cheeks reddened, apparently as he recognized the childish nature of this rejoinder.

"Until your mother says otherwise, I must protect you with my life. This would really be a lot easier to do if I knew your plans and your limitations," Snape responded reasonably. "So, what is your answer?"

"I am a true Death Eater!" Draco yelled. "I should have taken his offer-" his voice broke. "But I'll do it," he forced out.

"As a definitive statement of your convictions, Draco, this leaves much to be desired," Snape said, sneering. "Earlier tonight you could not even kill an unarmed old man, and now, what has changed?"

"I saw what the Dark Lord did to my mother!" Draco sobbed.

"And you saw me kill the old man," Snape said harshly. "Are you telling me you could do that, now?"

Draco bit his lower lip, fighting back more tears, and nodded his head.

"You can lie to me, Draco," Snape said softly. "You can even lie to yourself. But if you are lying, the Dark Lord will find out. Sooner or later, he will give you an order you are not able to carry out. And you have seen, tonight, what that will mean," he concluded savagely.

"All right, you win, I can't do it. I can't," Draco spat out. "But it is too late for me. I am a Death Eater. There is no place I can hide from the Dark Lord; he will never let me go!"

"No, Draco, there might be a place that you and Narcissa could go," Snape contradicted him. "Even now, the Order retains the capability to hide you completely."

"That's impossible!" said Draco. "I brought the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. It is my fault that Dumbledore is dead."

"You did not kill him. Neither did any of the Death Eaters that you brought into the school. Potter saw and heard it all, and he knows this. They will despise you for it. I don't doubt they will let you know exactly what they think of you. But they may honour the old man's offer, if you can convince them of your sincerity," Snape explained.

"I could be lying to them about wanting to leave the Dark Lord," said Draco. "They will know that!"

"True," Snape agreed. He allowed his shoulders to slump dejectedly, and stared across the room for a moment. Draco appeared crestfallen, Snape noted with satisfaction out of the corner of his eye. The idea appealed to him, then.

"It would help if you had something to sweeten the pot, to demonstrate your good intentions," Snape continued. "I have reason to believe I may learn something to the Order's advantage in the near future."

What a neat solution to his dilemma it could be. Potter would never believe any information he attempted to provide. Whereas information Draco stole from him... was another story. His eyes glittered. This could only work once, so he had better make the most of the opportunity.

"But...but that's treason! Why would you do this? If the Dark Lord finds out..." Draco trailed off, his blue eyes wide with fear.

"I am afraid that it is," Snape agreed.

"You want me to go to Potter and the Order, beg them to hide me, and bring along the Dark Lord's secrets?" Draco asked incredulously.

"I am merely pointing out your options," Snape replied silkily. "You could choose to remain a Death Eater and trust in the Dark Lord's mercy over that of the Order. In that case, Draco, I would do all I can to protect you from harm. All that you would need to do to keep your mother safe would be to obey all of the Dark Lord's orders," he concluded

"They might kill me..."

"You think so?" Snape asked, a mocking note in his voice.

Draco shook his head mutely.

"They might turn me over to the Ministry," Draco mused.

"That would make Scrimgeour's year," Snape agreed. "You could be the star of the biggest show trial since the Longbottom Affair."

"I would have to tell them everything I know. About Aunt Bella and...my father," said Draco.

"You are making it sound complicated, Draco," Snape said tiredly. "It is not. You told me, just five minutes ago, that even now, even having seen firsthand what it would mean to fail, you could not have killed the old man. Could you?"

Draco shook his head mutely.

"Then, does it really matter what the Order may ask of you?" Snape asked.

Silence greeted his words, as Draco now seemed to consider the rug at his feet with some interest. Snape waited tensely. Had he been too obvious? As Draco continued to reflect, Snape felt his hands start to shake again. He leaned forward to grab a blanket from the coffee table, to hide his weakness.

"No," Draco said firmly. He looked up at Snape. "If you learn something useful, Professor, I will take it to the Order."

"Very well, Draco," Snape said. "Let us speak of it no further. The less said, the better, until it is time to leave."

Draco nodded his agreement.

"Well then," Snape said, covering himself with the blanket as he spoke, "it has been a long night, Draco. We both need some rest. Would you mind turning out the light?"

Draco stood up and walked across the room. He paused, his hand on the light switch.

"So why are you going to betray the Dark Lord for me, sir? You did not tell me why," he noted. "I told Dumbledore you were a double-agent, and how you promised to help me, but he said he trusted you...but..." Draco trailed off.

"Your mother is not going release me, Draco," Snape answered, with an irritated sigh. "But the moment that you pass into the protection of the Order, I will have fulfilled those clauses of the Vow I made to her that remain in force. You will no longer be attempting to carry out the Dark Lord's wishes, and you will have, through my agency, better protection than I could hope to provide you here."

Draco gave Snape a long, considering look, then nodded his head and turned out the light.

There was no need to mention that he would be honouring a last wish of a dead friend, as well.

THE END