After putting a charm in place to both secure the flat and disguise my identity I apparate and appear in front of a ramshackle door in a run down building in knock turn alley. The air is heavy with coal smoke and the acrid smell of potions. Many people walk past me and don't pay me a second glance. My disguise is that of an old, small, hunched over, fair haired man. On the bridge of my now pudgy nose rests a pair of my own glasses (which I don't wear often enough) and my cloak is ragged and dirty along with smudges of ash across my face. I knew I would be heading to this God forsaken alleyway and would have to blend in as much as possible. Raising a closed fist, I pound heavily on the flimsy door and wait for the man I know lives here. The man who knows better than any how to get into the underground of Malfoy manor.

There is a scuffling noise behind the door and a wary, "Who is it?" the voice is graveled and tired, but I would know it anywhere.

"It's the bloody tooth fairy. Open the door… Draco Malfoy."

There is a pause, then the door flies open and a wand is the first thing I see. I don't step aside however; I let Draco's wand touch my Adams apple and stay there, the hand behind it trembling. The infamous blonde Malfoy locks have lost much of their luster and is askew across his forehead, his face is just as tired looking as his voice, beneath his eyes are dark circles and his pale face is sporting a shadow of blond scruff. His grey eyes are cold as he looks me up and down, "Who do you think you are knocking on my door," he hisses, "who in the bloody hell are you?"

I smirk, knowing full well I am disguised, "You are unbelieving I see. Tell me Draco, how is Daddy doing? It's a shame about him being in Azkaban, leaving you with nothing but a tainted name."

"You son of a bitch!" he snarls, pressing his wand harder into my neck, "I don't give a bloody fuck who you are, I will kill you where you stand!"

"No," I murmur quietly, "you wont Draco." I reach out and gently grab the arm holding his wand, flipping it over to see the Dark Mark, exceptionally black against his fair skin, "I still have it to, you know. It's been ten years and I've tried many things to make it go away, but here it still is. It never goes away, like the anger. It eats away at you, whispers your name at night while you're trying to sleep. You have nightmares, do you not?"

"What are you-" Draco stammers as I remove my hand and push up my own robe sleeve, exposing my Dark Mark,

"Draco," I ask quietly, "aren't you tired?"

His grey eyes look warily at me, "If-if you're trying to recruit me I'm sorry; I've already told the others no."

"My boy," I whisper, letting the glamor on my face slowly disappear, "I'm not here to damn you,"

Draco's mouth goes agape and he stumbles back a few steps, "You…"

I smirk, stepping through his door and laying a hand on his trembling shoulder, "I'm here to set you free."

"Snape," he backs away from my touch, wand dropping to the floor, "what kind of trickery is this? You're dead!"

"So goes the rumor," I shut the door behind me, "as you can see, my demise has been greatly exaggerated."

His home is dirty, empty bottles of liquor lay strewn across the floor along with countless newspapers which are stacked in every corner. They have his fathers face on nearly every one of the covers. Draco watches me silently as I pick one up and read the headline: "LUCIOUS MALFOY, TRAITOR, DIES IN PRISON."

"He died a broken man," Draco says quietly, "mother didn't take it well. They wouldn't even give us the body to bury in the family cemetery." He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it even more, "Professor, is there some reason why you're here? Or did you simply come in to rub in the fact I am a failure?"

I place the newspaper back down carefully on top of the stack I had found it, "As much as I hate to admit it, I need your help. I need to get into the manor."

Draco's eyebrows nearly reach his forehead as he barks out a laugh, "You-you're joking, right?" at my silence he only laughs harder, "Oh, you're serious? You're mad! My family lost possession of the manor after the war! There is no way I can get back in through those doors. There are wards in place that would turn my organs to jelly if I even stepped foot on the front porch."

I raise my eyebrow, "Do you really think I believe that? I think you are afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?" Draco's voice raises, "I have nothing left to lose! Look at me!" he holds his arms out and now I can see how thin he is, the grey shirt he is wearing appears to hang off of his frame, "I am wasting away; I survive mainly on booze and canned goods. I am accosted when I'm seen on the streets; I am a pariah, hated by everyone. I cant even go out to buy food. The only way I get anything to eat is because my mother brings it to me and she isn't in the greatest of health either."

"Excuses, excuses," I drawl,"I am disappointed in you Draco. Where is that Malfoy fire? Where is that cunning boy I used to teach?"

"Dead," he snaps, "he is dead Snape. I want nothing to do with you, or Hogwarts, or my home. You haven't explained your reasons for being here either; why do you even want to go into that God-forsaken place?"

"They have something I want, and like it or not you arrogant little pustule you are going to get me through those doors."

"Or what?" he sneers.

The sneer droops a little when I pull out my wand, "Or you are going to wish you had never opened your door. Now, get dressed, we are leaving."

"I can't believe you talked me into this," he grumbles, pulling his cloak hood lower on his face as he fists a handful of floo powder, "If I am beaten on, I expect you to come to my aid."

"Shut up already you miserable whiner," I hiss, grabbing his cloak sleeve and dragging him towards the fireplace, "we are wasting daylight. Now, where did you say we were going?"

Draco rips his arm from my grasp and scowls, "We are going to a small cabin on the Malfoy property I used to play in as a child. I called it the Dragon Room. And do-not-touch-me. If you insist on man-handling me then at least buy me a drink."

"Speaking of drink," I mutter, looking down at his enclosed fist which is holding the floor powder bag; it is trembling, "when was the last time you had one?"

He follows my eyes and pulls the hand closer to his side, "This morning. It's nothing. Now it's you who is wasting time." He steps into the fireplace and smirks at me; for a moment there is a flash of the arrogant, proud child he used to be, "you asked for this Professor. Now it's me who is in control."

"Please," I roll my eyes and step into the crowded, sooty fireplace alongside him, "we will see who is in control in a few more hours when you still haven't had a sip of fire whiskey."

There is a small snort of laughter beside me and he says, "I don't really need it. It just helps me forget. There is a lot I don't care remembering. It's bad enough I have to see Potter, Weasley and Grangers name in the paper every damn day. I'm glad I haven't seen any of their smug faces."

I raise my eyebrow, "Don't you think its time to bury old grudges?"

"Why?" Draco hisses, "Potter took EVERYTHING from me. You of all people should know that." A look of realization and horror begins to creep across his face as he slowly puts the pieces of my request together, "No, this has to do with them…doesn't it?"

I remain silent and the horror in his eyes turns to anger, "You bastard!" he roars, "How dare you come into my home and try to fool me into helping them, those fools and that mud-"

He doesn't get past mud.

I grab him by the collar and slam him into the back of the fireplace, the soot from the chimney raining down on both of us, "Don't you say it," I say quietly as he drops the floo powder bag and tries to pry my fingers away, "don't you ever call her that. If that word ever crosses your lips again I will make sure to sew them shut. And I don't mean with magic. Do you understand me?"

Draco stops struggling against me, in his eyes there is defeat, "Why do care about Potter? You hated him,"

"This isn't for him." I release Draco and motion to the bag of floo powder laying near our feet, "We are wasting time, you need to trust me."

"Why?" he whispers, and it is then I notice the tears gathering in his eyes, "why are you doing this to me? Please, just leave me alone."

For the briefest moment I begin to question my judgement and think I can do this without Draco. He will only be a hinderance. But then I see his trembling fingers and the empty alcohol bottles and know I can't leave him here either. If I leave him, he no doubt will kill himself. Whether it be with alcohol or his own hand he will not live much longer in the state he is in. I sigh, and bend down to pick up the floo powder bag. I take Draco's hand in mine and dump some of the powder in his upturned palm, "Listen to me," I say gently, "I need you. There are a lot of things happening and I can't change them by myself; there is a resurgence of Death Eaters and things will only continue to grow worse. I promise I will explain more, but dammit Draco this is your chance to redeem your name; your fathers name. I have tried to do things alone for so many years, but you know things I do not about the Manor. So, I am asking you," I stare deep into his watery eyes, "help me."

His eyes leave mine and glance down to his palm. There is a long moment of silence. Draco lets out a heavy sigh, his cheeks suddenly going red and his face contorting with anger. He raises the fist with the floo powder, throws it down and as a flash of green envelopes us I hear him shout, "DRAGON ROOM!"