This is my first story, but I've read plenty and hopefully done all my fanfic research well. Criticism always welcomed, flames not particularly appreciated!
Thank you for reading :)
Disclaimer: Unless I've run across some stray Polyjuice and transformed into JK, this world is not mine.
Today once marked the beginning of Severus Snape's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; however, today now marks the beginning of Draco Malfoy's sixth year at the aforementioned school, a year that Severus Snape desperately hopes will be different than his own. Darkness has already seeped into the cracks of wizarding society once again, but the resistance, namely the Order, has been busy constantly pressing against it.
Snape lies awake, thinking about the edge of the knife that he is currently balancing on. Voldemort continues to expect more and more, but the more Voldemort pushes the more Dumbledore pushes back. Unfortunately the Potions professor is crushed between their combined forces.
He flips to his back and stares at the ceiling, contemplating. These moments at night are the only times he gets relief, though sneering at incompetent students often does the trick. Snape's mouth tugs up into a barely perceptible half smile as he thinks of taking points from Gryffindor.
He quite enjoys when the lions mutter about how unfair and prejudiced he is. This only ever serves to amuse him more, considering he knows exactly how supposedly unfair and prejudiced he is.
Unlike the other flowery professors with notions of peace and justice constantly running through their deluded minds, Severus Snape is quite aware of how unfair the world can be. And if it takes one nasty Potions professor to open the eyes of sheltered children, then so be it. Who else will be there to prepare them for the world?
There was no one there for him, and he has been and will be paying for it for the rest of his life.
The next morning Severus opens his eyes and rises out of bed without hesitation. His movements are robotic as he brushes his teeth and tries to force himself to choke down some tea after burning his hand on the kettle.
Professors are required to attend one meal a day in the Great Hall, but Severus can't bear the thought of sitting among the very people that trust, or at least tolerate him.
They shouldn't. No matter if he's secretly Dumbledore's man, he still does the Dark Lord's bidding. He kills, raids, and incites fear into the hearts of many. For a long time now, Severus has wondered about his own heart. He sometimes forgets that he has one.
Unfortunately, today is not a good day to grieve for whatever humanity the Dark Lord has squashed out of him. Getting through teaching these poor, innocent imbeciles is enough challenge for a day, but throw in a Death Eater meeting and it becomes a real party.
Severus sighs and sets down his cup, which is still full.
Several hours later he spills that same cup, now full of ice cold liquid, all over the front of his robes while frantically searching for his Death Eater mask. It's the third time this week he's lost it, and being late more than twice is enough to warrant a myriad of dark curses as punishment.
Finally, after checking the clock every ten seconds, he Apparates to Malfoy Manor after deciding that arriving on time is more important than dressing for the occasion.
Fortunately, Voldemort seemed to agree, aside from a harsh comment about dressing to show respect. Snape simply glanced at the red eyes for a split second, then trained his own gaze on the floor in a sign of deference.
He only raised his eyes after hearing Voldemort cruelly chide Lucius for the "unseemly" condition of his manor. Honestly, Snape had never been much for the Malfoys' taste in decorations. They always seemed very cold, as though simply walking through the house would disrupt the various artifacts and delicate trinkets.
Snape allowed his mind to wander, a rare occurrence during a Death Eater meeting, but Voldemort seemed preoccupied with practicing a new curse on Rodolphus Lestrange. Lestrange's wretched wife, Bellatrix, seemed torn between whether she should simper at Voldemort's feet, or wince as he tortured her husband.
Allowing himself a bit of amusement at her predicament, Snape continued to shift his eyes about the room. He saw some brainless henchmen placed almost casually around the room. To the casual observer, they seemed occupied with nothing, but Snape was no observer.
He knew how Voldemort worked and he knew exactly why those henchmen were there. They were an insurance policy and a fear tactic. Voldemort had been bringing a lot more of these muscles around lately, making himself seem more dictatorial. It was an added bonus that they intimidated his more valued followers.
After all, the main purpose for the henchmen was sacrifice, in case the Aurors showed up. Voldemort always brought them into meetings when there was a special guest. Usually these guests were Muggles or Muggle supporters in the wizarding community, so Aurors were constantly on the watch for when they went missing.
Snape almost laughed at how ironic everything had turned out. Twenty years ago, Tom Riddle never would have sacrificed a loyal follower. In fact, he would go so far as to make them feel needed, vital to the cause.
Tom Riddle was the epitome of a charming man, but Lord Voldemort needed no one.
It was like flies to honey; they never realize the danger until they get stuck. Snape knew he was one of these brainwashed flies. He wished, more than anything, that he could go back in time and offer himself some fruit instead.
A drop of liquid landed on Snape's cheek, shaking him out of his thoughts. Voldemort watched as his spy slowly wiped Lestrange's blood off his face. The Dark Lord unconsciously licked his pale lip, which did not go unnoticed by Snape.
"Severuss, stay." Voldemort addressed him, stumbling over his name. "The rest of you are dismissed."
Snape carefully drew near to the Dark Lord as the Death Eaters disappeared. The reason for his presence at this meeting had finally come to light.
Voldemort had called him to come later than the others in order to give him some news about a development in their plans.
"Now, Severuss, you must be aware of how…displeased…I am with Lucius." At Snape's nod, he continued. "I have devised the perfect plan, and after informing the others, it was agreed upon." Snape flinched slightly, as he knew that nothing was discussed or easily agreed upon. This was no democracy.
"The Malfoy boy shall be the one to kill Dumbledore."
If Snape had blinked, he would have missed it. Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? Kill Dumbledore? He carefully arranged his features into a mask of approval and smiled.
"My Lord, how efficient."
"Yes, but naturally Narcissa protested and I know that the boy most likely will be unable to kill." Snape lowered his eyes, knowing what was coming.
"So I have decided that you are the backup plan." Voldemort finished his sentence in a way that indicated that Snape should respond agreeably.
Of course, Severus Snape inclined his head and Disapparated before Voldemort could even finish waving his hand in dismissal.
Of course, not more than five minutes after Snape had returned to his chambers at Hogwarts, he received a knock on the door. It was a tentative knock, with a slight shake that suggested a nervous knocker, but it still held purpose.
Upon opening the door, Draco Malfoy himself all but fell into view, complete with a white face and wide eyes. Snape shoved him right back through the door, closing it after walking out into the corridor himself.
"I suppose the Dark Lord informed you?" Snape asked as they walked to the Potions classroom. It wasn't as much of a question as it was a fact.
They reached the room and Snape made a beeline for his desk, turning away from Malfoy in order to begin sorting requisition forms for potion ingredients.
The boy nodded and swallowed hard, but Snape continued rifling through papers, pretending he didn't see how nervous the youngest Malfoy was.
"I don't suppose you would have a quill on hand?" he asked the boy, not looking up from his papers. He didn't want Malfoy to see the look in his own eyes, but his student took his distant attitude offensively.
"Sna-Professor Snape," he gritted out, "I'd like to think that you'd show a little compassion. I've only been asked to murder the headmaster!" His voice rose hysterically by the end of the sentence and Snape slammed the stack of requisition forms down on the table. Several fluttered down onto the cold stone floor of the Potions classroom.
"Don't say that aloud fool!" he sneered. The boy narrowed his eyes, but stopped talking after that. Instead he bent down and picked up a form.
"Lacewing flies?" he read aloud. "Planning on turning into a handsomer man sometime soon?"
Snape ignored this. For some reason, the insolent boy had lost a lot of respect for his professor. He could only guess that he had let his guard down. Snape couldn't remember the last time he had called out Malfoy in class. Focusing all of his attention of Potter may have led him to neglect other students.
"Well done Malfoy." Snape drawled. "You remembered a main ingredient in the Polyjuice Potion. I suppose I'll pull out my gradebook and add a little bonus for my favorite student."
The boy rolled his eyes at this and opened his mouth to return the gibe, but Snape had already grabbed his collar.
"Don't think you can challenge me boy. I want, no, I demand respect from you and if I don't get it, your little assignment from the Dark Lord will be the least of your worries this year."
Malfoy turned even whiter, and Snape considered stopping by the Hospital Wing to get a Pepperup potion. The boy looked as though he had spent a week underground.
"Go back to the dormitory. We will discuss your problem later."
Snape turned his attention back to the requisitions. Minutes later, long after Malfoy had left, Snape looked up and saw a quill sitting on his desk where it hadn't been before.
He allowed himself a half smile and continued marking ingredients onto the forms.
The next morning, Severus Snape awoke to a burning on the inside of his arm. Bugger it all. He had been looking forward to enjoying a restful, or at least a relatively restful weekend, considering he was surrounded by adolescents.
He Apparated for the second time in twenty-four hours to dear Lucius's house. This time he took his time to walk through the corridor and admire the lovely paintings hanging on the walls. His personal favorite was a medieval-looking wizard impaling a village boy with a flaming spear. Snape spent a few more minutes reading the description.
Apparently being caught in a compromising position with the daughter of a powerful wizard was punishable by being grilled, kabob style.
Snape strolled into the main room where His Highness was taking attendance. His form of roll call, which involved cursing Death Eaters who didn't present themselves quick enough, was a bit more violent than Snape used in his own classroom, but it seemed to encourage promptness.
Perhaps he should take notes to improve his own teaching methods.
Unfortunately, one of the cursed was the Malfoy heir who had arrived late. Snape shook his head and let out a barely noticeable sigh. The boy never learned.
He continued to watch the meeting silently for the next half hour. Basically, Voldemort used his classic methods. He questioned various Death Eaters about what he had ordered them to do, cursed them when he was unsatisfied with whatever mediocre results they had brought him, and leaned back in his chair to assess how the other unfortunate souls in the room were responding to his bursts of violence.
Most of his followers simply stared at various spots on the ceiling, the floor, or fixed their gaze on the statue of a dancing Cupid in the corner. Snape let out another imperceptible sigh regarding the Malfoys' choice in decorations.
Finally, the meeting got interesting. Voldemort summoned Draco Malfoy to him. There was a glimmer of humanity in his eyes as he spoke almost sweetly to the boy.
"Have you chosen to accept the task you've been assigned?" Snape held back a snort at this. It wasn't as though he would live to refuse what Voldemort wanted. But the Dark Lord seemed to be pulling out all the niceties to get young Draco fully on board. After all, he was nearing the age to get Marked.
"Yes my lord." Draco responded as respectfully as possible. Snape almost did snort this time. Where was all this courtesy last night?
All the humor faded away as Voldemort affectionately touched Malfoy's shoulder. Snape retreated into his own mind, remembering.
"Will you carry out your Lord's task, Severuss?" the attractive man had almost hissed.
"Yes my lord." he had responded in all his naivety.
The Dark Lord touched his shoulder, smiling at him the way a father might smile at his son.
Snape was jolted out of this memory by the sound of something shattering on the floor.
He glanced around the room and his eyes landed on the Cupid statue, now smashed on the ground next to its pedestal.
Evidently, the Dark Lord also disapproved of the Malfoys' taste in home décor.
Snape returned to Hogwarts with something weighing heavily on his mind. How was it that Malfoy had gotten sucked into the same trap he had been caught in so many years ago? He would describe the boy as expendable, at best.
The Dark Lord had valued him because of his remarkable talents in inventing curses and of course, Potions. What did he see in Draco Malfoy?
Two updates in the same day?! Sue me, I was struck by inspiration and wanted to add a little action to the story. I've got a plan all mapped out and the first chapter was just a bit dry. And short. So I added more, just to live dangerously.