DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and situations mentioned in this story
are not mine.
A/N: This story is a quasi-companion piece to "Interlude." You may want to read that first, or you could just take for granted that Snape and McGonagall are good friends who confide in each other.
Reviews and constructive criticism will be appreciated.
**********
He liked that they were afraid of him. Their fear gave him power, gave him the opportunity to truly shape their lives and ideas. Because of their fear, they never lied to him; the consequences loomed darkly in their impressionable minds. By keeping them on short leashes, he could protect them.
He lived to protect them.
Ever since his first year, Draco had been something of a special project. Severus had always been particularly close to Draco; he had known Lucius since their respective pram days, and Lucius had deigned to allow his oldest friend to witness that part of his son's life, too. At Hogwarts, though, Severus had an opportunity to speak to Draco without Lucius's ominous presence hovering just outside the door or down the hall. For five years, he had spent immeasurable amounts of time working carefully on deconstructing Draco's prejudices and preconceived plans for his future. As insidious as snake venom, he was carefully whittling them away.
He was guiding Draco toward the first question.
Their weekly chess game, a tradition begun early in Draco's second year, had become a highlight of both their weeks. What had begun as a simple chess match had become something of a symposium. During those hours, Draco worked on whatever homework was giving him trouble (though most of it was readings assigned him by his father), and Severus would explain the trickier parts to the clever young man. They chatted about this, that, and the other thing; Severus realized that Draco's love of politics was genuine, not simply a front he put up to please his father. They told each other jokes, and sometime during fourth year, Draco had felt comfortable enough to tell his head of house secrets. Nothing earth-shattering was divulged; simply that Draco was not particularly fond of Pansy Parkinson and, despite their fathers' wrangling and deals, he had no intention of marrying the young lady he titled "The Banshee."
One night in late spring of Draco's fifth year, the young man came down to Severus's chambers. As usual, he spread his many, thick tomes on the floor before the fireplace and sprawled among them- but that day, he did not open them. He stared contemplatively into the flames for a moment before turning to where Severus sat, back to Draco, at his desk. Steeling that Malfoy-courage, Draco said, "Professor Snape?"
"Yes?" Severus prompted. He liked that Draco felt it necessary to ask permission before badgering him with questions; too many children had lost sight of that olden day tenet. Severus imagined that Lucius would not have looked favorably upon that.
He chickened out and half-asked what was bothering him. "What... What's Azkaban like, sir?"
"Oh, Draco," the teacher sighed. He had been waiting for that question to come ever since Lucius's incarceration. Despite the outward appearance that Lucius was (there was no nice way to phrase it) a cold-hearted, sadistic bastard, he was a good father who, in his heart of hearts, was completely dedicated to providing a happy, safe home for his son. "Come here."
Severus closed his book and moved to sit on the sofa. Crawling up to sit beside him, Draco felt almost safe, almost like he felt in his father's study at the Manor, like he had felt when he was little and Lucius would let him stay up late and "be grown up." Draco missed those simple days.
When Draco was situated, Severus continued. "It is not like it was when your father and I were there last time. The dementors have abdicated. Now, the only guards are Aurors and Ministry wizards. While I'm sure that your father is far from comfortable or happy about his imprisonment, he is not in any pain."
"They'll question him under Veritaserum."
"It's likely," Severus said, trying to hedge the question. As a Potions expert and former guest of the Ministry, he had far too much information about the damned substance, information that no child, not even the Malfoy heir, should be party to.
Draco whispered, "They shouldn't be able to do that."
"I know, dragon."
Sounding truly like a child who had lost his father, Draco whispered, "I don't want them to hurt him."
"You have to believe that I am doing everything I can to prevent that from happening, Draco. You have to trust me."
"I do trust you," Draco said, and it seemed to Severus that his words held a deeper meaning. Just as he was about to pry into it, Draco took a deep breath and pressed forward on his own. "Sir, I... If I ask you a... If I ask you a question about something very serious... I don't think you'll like it, the question, I mean... But if I ask you anyway, will you... will you promise not to tell anyone else that I asked it? You can do whatever you want to me, and I won't complain or tell anyone, but will you promise to keep it between us?"
Severus's heart all but stopped beating. If this was what he had been hoping for, if the next words out of Draco's mouth were the words he had been praying for since the moment he saw the boy, he would stand naked on a table in the middle of Diagon Alley and renounce the Dark Lord for all to hear. This could not be botched. If he mishandled the situation in any way, it could send Draco running scared again; Severus knew he could not afford another five years coaxing the boy out. Plus, he had to entertain the possibility that this was some sort of elaborate way to trick him, Severus, into admitting his identity as the spy in Voldemort's ranks.
Yes. This had to be handled with the utmost of care.
"Whatever you say will not leave this room, Draco, you have my word."
In a tone of voice too serious to belong to a child, Draco whispered, "What if the Dark Lord is wrong?"
"I'm afraid I don't understand the question, my dragon," Severus said. He kept his voice carefully neutral so as not to scare Draco.
Meanwhile, the child's heart was pounding uncontrollably. He sincerely doubted his own sanity. This was Severus Snape, known Death Eater. The only person closer to the Dark Lord than Snape was Lucius Malfoy himself- wasn't it? But... The Professor had always kept his word. He had helped Draco through disagreements with Lucius, through the whole confusion that was Pansy. He had never missed one of their evenings together, and he seemed to look forward to them. That had to mean something. He could be trusted. Severus had shown Draco that he could be trusted. "I mean... Father never... It's just that Father never explained this aspect of his campaign to me. I'm sure I just don't understand it, but..."
"It's all right, Draco. Tell me what's bothering you, and I will help you understand," Severus said what he hoped was encouragingly.
"Father said that the Dark Lord wouldn't kill the Muggles who didn't pose a threat to him, he would imprison them where they could do no harm to the purebloods... But Father is a pureblood. And he's been in prison for nearly a month. The Dark Lord hasn't done anything to help him, and..."
"And you don't understand why your father has been relegated to the same fate as a Muggle."
"Yes, sir," Draco whispered, waiting for the condemnation, the punishment.
Severus never would have thought that his best friend's incarceration would have an upside, but here it was, looking anxiously at him through the silver-violet eyes of the only child Severus had ever respected. He must have spent too long in thought, for just as Severus was about to speak, Draco shot to his feet, dropping his gaze dutifully to the floor and murmuring, "I'm... I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean... I won't..."
"Stop sniveling, boy," Severus said, not as harshly as he could have, only with enough venom to remind Draco who and where they both were. "I told you this would remain between us. Do you doubt me?"
"No, sir," Draco said, struggling to regulate his voice.
"Then sit down. You're already nearly as tall as Lucius; it's unnerving, your standing there and staring."
With a tiny smile at the comparison between himself and his father, Draco resumed his seat. His teacher would not have said something like that if he was in trouble. So, maybe this would not be the most pleasant discussion ever, but it would probably (hopefully?) not end in torture. "Sorry, Professor," Draco said.
"Are you apologizing for the question, or for being so damned tall?"
"Um..." Draco dared a glance at Severus's face. There was something akin to a smile playing on his lips. That boded well. Maybe he wasn't in trouble after all... "Both, sir?"
Severus gave Draco the Look he usually reserved for a particular Gryffindor before flashing a decently reassuring smile, which earned a hopeful smirk from Draco. Maybe he wasn't about to be killed.
Rolling his eyes, Severus said, "Very well, then." A pause, while Draco expectantly waited for his mentor to speak. He was just starting to get antsy when Severus continued. "Dragon, I'm not the person to answer these questions. Believe me when I tell you that I want to, but I am simply unable to do so. It would put me in a particularly... compromising situation. Do you understand?"
"I understand, sir."
"This does not mean that I discourage you from discussing this with someone. In fact, I suggest you do so."
"But, sir-!" Draco began to protest, horrified that Severus would even suggest his bringing up that topic with anyone else.
Severus said, "This is very likely the only safe place for you to pose such question. You've always respected Professor McGonagall, Draco. Speak to her. She will understand the need for discretion."
"She's not likely to hand me over to Dumbledore? To take my words to the Ministry as evidence against my father?"
"Your father has undoubtedly taught you how to answer questions without answering them. I'm rather certain you used one of Lucius's old tricks to receiving a detention when you were late for class yesterday."
Another tiny, hesitant smile. "Yes, sir, I did."
"Well, do that, only in reverse. Can you do that?"
Draco ran through his father's lessons in his mind. Ambiguously worded hypothetical questions whose answers could clear Draco's confusion but that could not be used in court against Lucius?
He could manage that.
"Yes, sir."
"I would like for you to come to me after you've spoken to her... You could tell me if she helped you at all."
"I would appreciate it, sir."
"Very well, then." Snape proclaimed the matter settled, hiding his elation. "Perhaps we ought to overlook chess this evening, Draco. It's nearing curfew... Do you have any questions regarding your assignments?"
It only half registered to the young man that it was nearly ten thirty at night and his curfew was in fifteen minutes. He heard his mentor, the only person in the world other than his father whom he truly respected, telling him that he should leave. In a choked voice, Draco asked, "Do you hate me?"
Severus laughed and drew Draco into a paternal, protective embrace. "Don't be ridiculous. Some days, you are the only person in this bloody school who I can tolerate, largely because of your intellect. I'm not going to begin to hate you because of it."
"What if I disagree with the Dark Lord?"
"Then I imagine we will have our fair share of disputes... but I will not hate you, Draco. I couldn't."
"Thank you, Professor," Draco murmured, half-leaning into the older man's arms. Though he could count the number of times he'd been hugged on one hand, this just felt right. He could hardly believe how one conversation had made the world seem so much more manageable. He had a prospective plan.
Severus said, "You should return to your dormitory before curfew, Draco."
"Yes, sir."
"Oh- and you have detention tomorrow evening at eight o'clock for being late to class," Severus said. "Report to me in the classroom."
"Yes, sir," Draco said. He had been expecting that.
Gathering his belongings, Draco left Severus's chambers. He carefully closed the door behind him. Severus listened for a moment to make sure that Draco had left before throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fire. Sending his upper half to the Deputy Headmistress's office, he called, "Minerva?"
"Severus?" She replied, ducking down into the fireplace. "Is something troubling you?"
"You should expect a visit from Draco Malfoy sometime within the next few days."
Sounding somewhat breathier than she had previously, Minerva gasped, "Severus?"
"He did it, Minerva. He asked the question."
A/N: This story is a quasi-companion piece to "Interlude." You may want to read that first, or you could just take for granted that Snape and McGonagall are good friends who confide in each other.
Reviews and constructive criticism will be appreciated.
**********
He liked that they were afraid of him. Their fear gave him power, gave him the opportunity to truly shape their lives and ideas. Because of their fear, they never lied to him; the consequences loomed darkly in their impressionable minds. By keeping them on short leashes, he could protect them.
He lived to protect them.
Ever since his first year, Draco had been something of a special project. Severus had always been particularly close to Draco; he had known Lucius since their respective pram days, and Lucius had deigned to allow his oldest friend to witness that part of his son's life, too. At Hogwarts, though, Severus had an opportunity to speak to Draco without Lucius's ominous presence hovering just outside the door or down the hall. For five years, he had spent immeasurable amounts of time working carefully on deconstructing Draco's prejudices and preconceived plans for his future. As insidious as snake venom, he was carefully whittling them away.
He was guiding Draco toward the first question.
Their weekly chess game, a tradition begun early in Draco's second year, had become a highlight of both their weeks. What had begun as a simple chess match had become something of a symposium. During those hours, Draco worked on whatever homework was giving him trouble (though most of it was readings assigned him by his father), and Severus would explain the trickier parts to the clever young man. They chatted about this, that, and the other thing; Severus realized that Draco's love of politics was genuine, not simply a front he put up to please his father. They told each other jokes, and sometime during fourth year, Draco had felt comfortable enough to tell his head of house secrets. Nothing earth-shattering was divulged; simply that Draco was not particularly fond of Pansy Parkinson and, despite their fathers' wrangling and deals, he had no intention of marrying the young lady he titled "The Banshee."
One night in late spring of Draco's fifth year, the young man came down to Severus's chambers. As usual, he spread his many, thick tomes on the floor before the fireplace and sprawled among them- but that day, he did not open them. He stared contemplatively into the flames for a moment before turning to where Severus sat, back to Draco, at his desk. Steeling that Malfoy-courage, Draco said, "Professor Snape?"
"Yes?" Severus prompted. He liked that Draco felt it necessary to ask permission before badgering him with questions; too many children had lost sight of that olden day tenet. Severus imagined that Lucius would not have looked favorably upon that.
He chickened out and half-asked what was bothering him. "What... What's Azkaban like, sir?"
"Oh, Draco," the teacher sighed. He had been waiting for that question to come ever since Lucius's incarceration. Despite the outward appearance that Lucius was (there was no nice way to phrase it) a cold-hearted, sadistic bastard, he was a good father who, in his heart of hearts, was completely dedicated to providing a happy, safe home for his son. "Come here."
Severus closed his book and moved to sit on the sofa. Crawling up to sit beside him, Draco felt almost safe, almost like he felt in his father's study at the Manor, like he had felt when he was little and Lucius would let him stay up late and "be grown up." Draco missed those simple days.
When Draco was situated, Severus continued. "It is not like it was when your father and I were there last time. The dementors have abdicated. Now, the only guards are Aurors and Ministry wizards. While I'm sure that your father is far from comfortable or happy about his imprisonment, he is not in any pain."
"They'll question him under Veritaserum."
"It's likely," Severus said, trying to hedge the question. As a Potions expert and former guest of the Ministry, he had far too much information about the damned substance, information that no child, not even the Malfoy heir, should be party to.
Draco whispered, "They shouldn't be able to do that."
"I know, dragon."
Sounding truly like a child who had lost his father, Draco whispered, "I don't want them to hurt him."
"You have to believe that I am doing everything I can to prevent that from happening, Draco. You have to trust me."
"I do trust you," Draco said, and it seemed to Severus that his words held a deeper meaning. Just as he was about to pry into it, Draco took a deep breath and pressed forward on his own. "Sir, I... If I ask you a... If I ask you a question about something very serious... I don't think you'll like it, the question, I mean... But if I ask you anyway, will you... will you promise not to tell anyone else that I asked it? You can do whatever you want to me, and I won't complain or tell anyone, but will you promise to keep it between us?"
Severus's heart all but stopped beating. If this was what he had been hoping for, if the next words out of Draco's mouth were the words he had been praying for since the moment he saw the boy, he would stand naked on a table in the middle of Diagon Alley and renounce the Dark Lord for all to hear. This could not be botched. If he mishandled the situation in any way, it could send Draco running scared again; Severus knew he could not afford another five years coaxing the boy out. Plus, he had to entertain the possibility that this was some sort of elaborate way to trick him, Severus, into admitting his identity as the spy in Voldemort's ranks.
Yes. This had to be handled with the utmost of care.
"Whatever you say will not leave this room, Draco, you have my word."
In a tone of voice too serious to belong to a child, Draco whispered, "What if the Dark Lord is wrong?"
"I'm afraid I don't understand the question, my dragon," Severus said. He kept his voice carefully neutral so as not to scare Draco.
Meanwhile, the child's heart was pounding uncontrollably. He sincerely doubted his own sanity. This was Severus Snape, known Death Eater. The only person closer to the Dark Lord than Snape was Lucius Malfoy himself- wasn't it? But... The Professor had always kept his word. He had helped Draco through disagreements with Lucius, through the whole confusion that was Pansy. He had never missed one of their evenings together, and he seemed to look forward to them. That had to mean something. He could be trusted. Severus had shown Draco that he could be trusted. "I mean... Father never... It's just that Father never explained this aspect of his campaign to me. I'm sure I just don't understand it, but..."
"It's all right, Draco. Tell me what's bothering you, and I will help you understand," Severus said what he hoped was encouragingly.
"Father said that the Dark Lord wouldn't kill the Muggles who didn't pose a threat to him, he would imprison them where they could do no harm to the purebloods... But Father is a pureblood. And he's been in prison for nearly a month. The Dark Lord hasn't done anything to help him, and..."
"And you don't understand why your father has been relegated to the same fate as a Muggle."
"Yes, sir," Draco whispered, waiting for the condemnation, the punishment.
Severus never would have thought that his best friend's incarceration would have an upside, but here it was, looking anxiously at him through the silver-violet eyes of the only child Severus had ever respected. He must have spent too long in thought, for just as Severus was about to speak, Draco shot to his feet, dropping his gaze dutifully to the floor and murmuring, "I'm... I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean... I won't..."
"Stop sniveling, boy," Severus said, not as harshly as he could have, only with enough venom to remind Draco who and where they both were. "I told you this would remain between us. Do you doubt me?"
"No, sir," Draco said, struggling to regulate his voice.
"Then sit down. You're already nearly as tall as Lucius; it's unnerving, your standing there and staring."
With a tiny smile at the comparison between himself and his father, Draco resumed his seat. His teacher would not have said something like that if he was in trouble. So, maybe this would not be the most pleasant discussion ever, but it would probably (hopefully?) not end in torture. "Sorry, Professor," Draco said.
"Are you apologizing for the question, or for being so damned tall?"
"Um..." Draco dared a glance at Severus's face. There was something akin to a smile playing on his lips. That boded well. Maybe he wasn't in trouble after all... "Both, sir?"
Severus gave Draco the Look he usually reserved for a particular Gryffindor before flashing a decently reassuring smile, which earned a hopeful smirk from Draco. Maybe he wasn't about to be killed.
Rolling his eyes, Severus said, "Very well, then." A pause, while Draco expectantly waited for his mentor to speak. He was just starting to get antsy when Severus continued. "Dragon, I'm not the person to answer these questions. Believe me when I tell you that I want to, but I am simply unable to do so. It would put me in a particularly... compromising situation. Do you understand?"
"I understand, sir."
"This does not mean that I discourage you from discussing this with someone. In fact, I suggest you do so."
"But, sir-!" Draco began to protest, horrified that Severus would even suggest his bringing up that topic with anyone else.
Severus said, "This is very likely the only safe place for you to pose such question. You've always respected Professor McGonagall, Draco. Speak to her. She will understand the need for discretion."
"She's not likely to hand me over to Dumbledore? To take my words to the Ministry as evidence against my father?"
"Your father has undoubtedly taught you how to answer questions without answering them. I'm rather certain you used one of Lucius's old tricks to receiving a detention when you were late for class yesterday."
Another tiny, hesitant smile. "Yes, sir, I did."
"Well, do that, only in reverse. Can you do that?"
Draco ran through his father's lessons in his mind. Ambiguously worded hypothetical questions whose answers could clear Draco's confusion but that could not be used in court against Lucius?
He could manage that.
"Yes, sir."
"I would like for you to come to me after you've spoken to her... You could tell me if she helped you at all."
"I would appreciate it, sir."
"Very well, then." Snape proclaimed the matter settled, hiding his elation. "Perhaps we ought to overlook chess this evening, Draco. It's nearing curfew... Do you have any questions regarding your assignments?"
It only half registered to the young man that it was nearly ten thirty at night and his curfew was in fifteen minutes. He heard his mentor, the only person in the world other than his father whom he truly respected, telling him that he should leave. In a choked voice, Draco asked, "Do you hate me?"
Severus laughed and drew Draco into a paternal, protective embrace. "Don't be ridiculous. Some days, you are the only person in this bloody school who I can tolerate, largely because of your intellect. I'm not going to begin to hate you because of it."
"What if I disagree with the Dark Lord?"
"Then I imagine we will have our fair share of disputes... but I will not hate you, Draco. I couldn't."
"Thank you, Professor," Draco murmured, half-leaning into the older man's arms. Though he could count the number of times he'd been hugged on one hand, this just felt right. He could hardly believe how one conversation had made the world seem so much more manageable. He had a prospective plan.
Severus said, "You should return to your dormitory before curfew, Draco."
"Yes, sir."
"Oh- and you have detention tomorrow evening at eight o'clock for being late to class," Severus said. "Report to me in the classroom."
"Yes, sir," Draco said. He had been expecting that.
Gathering his belongings, Draco left Severus's chambers. He carefully closed the door behind him. Severus listened for a moment to make sure that Draco had left before throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fire. Sending his upper half to the Deputy Headmistress's office, he called, "Minerva?"
"Severus?" She replied, ducking down into the fireplace. "Is something troubling you?"
"You should expect a visit from Draco Malfoy sometime within the next few days."
Sounding somewhat breathier than she had previously, Minerva gasped, "Severus?"
"He did it, Minerva. He asked the question."