"I told you that you don't need to know anymore." Draco said bitterly as he glared at Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Theodore Nott. He had spent most of the afternoon explaining that he needed lookouts while he worked on his secret project.

"Come on, Draco." Nott said. "Why can't you tell us any more?"

"I've told you all you need to know." Draco growled.

"Why do we have to use Polyjuice?" Crabbe asked, his face contorted by his confusion.

"I already told you." Draco shook his head. "It would be too suspicious if you three kept hanging out in that corridor. By using Polyjuice potion you can pose as anyone in Slytherin, and no one would get suspicious if different people were hanging around that corridor."

"Why first years?" Goyle asked. "Why can't we use older people. I wouldn't mind being in Tabitha Bole for a few hours." Nott, Crabbe and Goyle all began chuckling. Draco merely shook his head, covering his face with his hand.

"Are you through?" He nearly screamed. "This is important! You can use anyone from our house. I don't even care. But we need to be careful, we don't want whoever you're impersonating to see themselves in the Seventh floor corridor while we're doing our job. If we're caught, it will be our end."

"Says who?" Nott yelled back. "All you've told us is that you have this big secret mission, but you won't tell us what it is or anything! All that would happen to us is detention for using Polyjuice. Why should we even help you at all?"

Draco's face flushed, and he gripped his left sleeve, ripping it up his arm and showing it to the three boys. They all gave a startled gasp as they stared at the black tattoo. As they stared, each of them swore that it moved as if it were alive beneath his skin.

"Do you see now? Do you simpletons understand? He marked me over the summer and he gave me a very important mission. Now if you help me, I'll make sure he knows of your loyalty."

"He really marked you?" Crabbe asked in awe.

"Do you think I did this to myself?" Draco snapped, holding his arm out in Crabbe's face. "I have to do this, and I need you three to help me. Now, are you going to, or do I tell him when I finish how you tried to betray me, and our kind? Do I tell him you all are Blood Traitors?"

"You wouldn't." Nott said, his eyes narrowing.

"I would, and you know I would." Draco said, his voice lowering. He was practically panting now, and his face was flushed from his anger.

Nott stared into Draco's gray eyes for a long time before finally nodding slowly.

"Good. Now, the first thing we have to do is brew up Polyjuice potion. I can get the ingredients, but it's going to take some time to brew it properly. In the mean time, you three can start collecting people's hairs. Make sure that one of them is one of the Greengrasses. Potter's slag has something in her possession that I need."

"Yeah, I need it, too." Goyle guffawed. "But I'm quite sure she's never going to give it up to you." Crabbe chuckled at his friend's joke.

"Shut up, you pervert." Draco snapped. "I'm talking about that potion she got from Slughorn. Once I can get into the girl's dorms, I can get it from her trunk, and then I'll have no trouble at all doing what I need to, and then I'll get my reward."

"Whatever." Nott said, rolling his eyes. "How long is this going to take?"

"A month. Once we have the Polyjuice, it won't be too much longer after that. Now, I have to take this letter to the Owlery so I can get what we need. Not a word of this to anyone. If anyone finds out what we're doing, expulsion will be the least of our worries."

Giving one last look to his dorm mates, Draco left to send off his letter. The three boys looked at one another for a minute before Nott broke the silence.

"He's out of his mind."

"But, we all saw the Mark. It was real. I've seen my dad's enough to know that Draco's was real. How do you explain that?" Crabbe asked. Nott shrugged.

"He could have learned how to mark himself."

"Ok, we all know how self-important Draco likes to make himself, and when his father wasn't in prison, he could back up whatever threats he made. But, this seems a bit much for that posturing prick. I don't think he'd threaten anyone right now unless he really did have the power to back up his threat." Crabbe said, getting up from his bed and collecting his Charms homework. He had been trying harder this year, as his father had promised serious punishment if he didn't bring his grades up.

"Not to mention how secretive he's been lately. He barely spoke on the train, and he's barely been around lately. People are talking." Goyle muttered.

"Who cares what those sheep think. Like any of them are really concerned about what the great Draco Malfoy is doing." Nott rolled his eyes.

"But they are concerned about their lives. At least six families were exposed as supporters of You-Know-Who, and now everyone is pointing fingers. All of us who are loyal are having to pretend we're disgusted. Do you honestly think he'll forgive that when he takes over? For the love of Merlin, he can see into your mind and find out your deepest secrets. Half of this house will be slaughtered for being blood traitors." Crabbe looked at Nott, who looked to be considering what he had heard.

He gave a sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So, we spend another year following that great ponce and suffer whatever humiliation he forces on us? My gods, he's going to be making us prance around as girls."

"Which I plan to take advantage of." Goyle chuckled. "Think of all the hot witches we'll be able to see naked."

"You have a one track mind, Goyle, and it's a little unnerving." Nott shook his head in disgust.

Daphne looked up at the sound of a door slam, as did a few others who were in the Common Room. Draco Malfoy came from around a corner, where the boy's dormitories were, and headed for the exit. He was struggling to pull his left sleeve down, and Daphne caught a glimpse of something on the boys arm.

She sat up a bit straighter, wishing she could have seen more before the bastard had left. She wasn't completely sure of what she'd seen. It was too ridiculous to even think about, much less imagine. Draco Malfoy? That pompous posturing little berk, a Death Eater?

It was far more likely he'd used ink and drawn the Mark on his arm to impress his "friends." Daphne had overheard Nott and some of the others complaining about their leader when the blonde ferret wasn't around. Daphne often wondered over the years why they followed him if they hated him so much.

Pansy she understood. Pansy was trying to procure a better place in society for herself. If she got her claws in Draco deep enough, he would marry her, and she would become Lady Malfoy. Well, she would have before Lucius got himself thrown into Azkaban. The family would be lucky if they had two galleons to rub together if the Wizengamot seized their assets, which was usually what happened. Maybe Pansy realized that, and that was why she and Draco were hardly seen together anymore.

Crabbe and Goyle were simply followers. Neither of them would amount to much after school, so by aligning themselves with someone powerful, they might find themselves heading up some meaningless department in the Ministry. Especially if the gold was good. And the Malfoy gold had been good… while they had it.

But Nott was the one that confused Daphne the most. The Notts were a very influential family, and very wealthy in their own right. Not only that, Theodore Nott had outshined Draco in every subject. Theodore was smart, powerful, cunning, and fairly good looking. So, why would someone like that even bother with someone like Malfoy?

It was an unanswerable mystery, especially as the only one who could answer that question wasn't revealing his secrets.

Daphne sighed heavily and closed her book. She wasn't going to get anymore reading done here. She stood and stretched, feeling her back muscles relaxing a bit.

She headed back to the girls dorm and opened her trunk to replace her book. As she opened it, she saw the tiny vial of golden potion that she had won from Slughorn. She had been wondering almost all week how she might use it. Some of those thoughts had involved getting Harry alone someplace and getting to know him much better than she did now.

And then, when she thought about Harry, she thought about what waited for him. His destiny.

The more she though about it, the more she believed that he needed that particular potion. Sure, he was receiving training from Dumbledore, and they had all gotten very strong over the summer. In fact, Daphne was confident that if Death Eaters tried to storm the castle right now, the five of them could hold off all of Voldemort's forces by themselves. Of course, that could just be her over-inflated sense of power. Two months of hard work and training from qualified Aurors would have that affect on just about anyone.

But, Harry would have to face Voldemort on his own.

She would be there by his side, but it would have to be Harry, and Harry alone, to strike the final blow. If he could.

Daphne had no doubt that her boyfriend was capable of it. Harry was easily the most powerful wizard she knew, and he had the potential to be even stronger than Dumbledore himself in time. But, he didn't have that time. It was very likely that Harry would face off against Voldemort sooner than any of them expected.

He needed all the luck he could get, and there was Daphne, with a whole twelve hours worth of good luck right in the trunk. She could give it to him, and then he would be ready. He would face down that monster, and then he would take her in his arms and the world would be perfect. They would be married and live happily ever after….Married?

"Where did that come from?" Daphne asked no one.

They'd been together almost a full year now, or would have been if he hadn't tried to be all noble and dumped her at Ron's funeral. She loved him with all her heart, there was no doubt of that. She wanted to do things with him she'd never even spoken of. But, never once had she imagined being married to THE Harry Potter.

She never even imagined being married to anyone, really. Sure, she'd thought about it, of course. She was a girl, after all, but she'd never pictured it. Not really. What would their life be like? How many kids would they have? Where would they live?

Closing her trunk, Daphne stood and sat on her bed, allowing herself to imagine just what life would be like with Harry as her husband. She tried to picture Harry a few years older, with a bit more stubble on his face. She laughed at the image of Harry with a rather long beard, and shook her head to clear it away.

They'd have a nice house, for sure. Harry was pretty well off. But he wasn't the type to sit around the house all day. He wanted to be an Auror, though he had admitted to her that after seeing Ron die, and having his life pretty much dedicated to destroying the darkest wizard ever known, the dream had lost some of it's shimmer.

Daphne hoped that Harry would forget about chasing Dark wizards. She worried enough about him now, and they were still in school. At least with something like Quidditch, there was far less risk of him never coming home to her. Still, she'd never try to change his mind. He had to be happy with whatever he chose to do. And when all was said and done, Harry Potter would likely be the best Auror the magical world ever saw.

Their children would be beautiful, Daphne decided. How could they not be. A little boy and a little girl. Two would be perfect., she thought. Not that she was opposed to more. In fact, she might even encourage to try for more.

She shivered at the thought of lying in bed with him, his bare skin pressed against hers, warming her all over. His lips on her neck, her shoulders, her breasts…

"Gods, I need him!" She sighed.

"Who?"

"AHHHH!" Daphne screamed, slipping off her bed and falling on the cold hard stone floor.

Tracey Davis fell on her bed laughing hard. Daphne scowled at her friend in pained anger. She pulled herself up and rubbed her bruised backside, while grumbling about people not announcing themselves.

"Sorry." Tracey said when she got control of herself. "You looked a little lost in your own world there."

"Where have you been?" Daphne asked, her anger slipping away after hearing Tracey's laughter.

"Oh, just doing some research." Tracey sing-songed.

"Following Blaise to learn his habits?"

"Know your enemy." Tracey said in a passable imitation of Mad-Eye Moody. "He's not very vigilant. I could have hexed him a dozen times today, and he never would have known it. Of course, he probably doesn't even know how to see if someone is Disillusioned."

"Oh, gods." Daphne shook her head. "Tell me you didn't watch him in the shower."

"No. I've already seen it.' Tracey's expression became hard, and Daphne wished she hadn't said anything.

"So, what did you learn?" Daphne tried to change the subject.

"I learned that he's so arrogant that he doesn't bother locking his trunk. I also know that he and Tabitha," She said the name with disgust. "Have a very special unused classroom on the fourth floor. I thought about putting a permanent sticking charm on his bits so when he puts it in that whore's…"

"I get the picture." Daphne held up her hands. "Look, I'm behind you on this. Just, don't get too lost in revenge. You're a really good person, and I'd hate to see you get hurt, or miss something really great, because of someone else's mistake."

Tracey smiled and nodded. "I've thought a lot about all of it since we got back to school. He took advantage of me, there's no doubt about that. But the fact is… I let him. If my brain and mouth had worked right on the train, and I actually talked to him, maybe none of it would have happened. He didn't do anything I didn't want him to, and the truth is…" Tracey took a deep breath, and her eyes fell from her friend's face to the floor. "I really liked it. All of it. It wasn't rough, or fast, or bad in any way. Not that I have any basis on which to compare, but I think for a first time, it was really good."

Daphne sat next to her best friend, waiting patiently for Tracey to continue.

"I thought of him all summer, and I dreamt of how it was supposed to go, and I probably deluded myself into believing everything would fall into place or something. I'm just as much to blame as he is for what happened. I learned a very important lesson, and I even thought about not doing anything to him."

"Really?" Daphne's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Yeah. And maybe if I hadn't talked to him yesterday about all of it, I wouldn't have done anything but just let it go. But now… after what he said about me, and my family status and all that garbage…He really needs to be taken down. Then, I can move on to better things. By the way, have you ever noticed how adorable Justin Finch-Fletchley's dimples are?"

"What? Fletchley? Really?" Daphne asked, taken aback by the sudden flip in conversation.

"His dimples are really cute. Come on, it's dinner time. I'll show you." Tracey said clasping Daphne's wrist and leading her to the Great Hall for dinner. Daphne couldn't help but smile as she saw her best friend return.

"NOTHING!"

Lord Voldemort's rage was immeasurable as he threw another ancient tome across the room and into the fire. He'd been searching for two months now for the answer to the mystery surrounding his loss of power.

He'd noticed it upon his return. Had he been more clear headed, and not so focused on recalling his followers, he might have noticed it right away. It had been so very small that he'd not even been concerned with it, until two months ago, when he'd felt another sudden drain in his magic, which was followed shortly after by the sudden loss of his connection to the boy's mind.

There had been no further incidents, but he was concerned. He still held great amounts of power, and his followers still feared him, as did the rest of the world, but something was happening, and if he didn't find a way to stop it, Voldemort feared it could destroy him.

The reason for it, he was sure, lie in the blood in his veins. The blood he took from his enemy to remake his body. The blood of Harry Potter. He had used Potter's blood in order to take advantages of the ancient protections the boy's mother had invoked by sacrificing herself to save her child. That blood was supposed to protect him as well. But now, it was clear that it was still protecting the boy by destroying the Dark Lord from the inside… very slowly.

"I have to find a way to negate those cursed protections." He muttered, picking up another tome, and quickly flipping through it. The very thought of being done in by something as trivial as blood magic sickened the Dark Lord.

The more he thought on the problem, the angrier he got. It was the perfect plan, and it had been justice in it's rawest form. To take into himself the very power that had so nearly destroyed him was so poetic. It should have protected him as it did the boy. He could touch the boy now.

Couldn't he? He had touched the boy's famous scar on the night of his return, yet, just a few months ago, he had suffered immense pain when he'd attempted to possess the boy's mind. Could he still indeed touch the boy?

It didn't matter. He was going to find an answer to the riddle of this ancient blood magic, and rid himself of the Mudblood's curse. Then, he would destroy the boy before the eyes of the magical world. There would be no doubt of his power. There would be no more resistance. The magical world would kneel before him, and then he would shape his new world.

He just had to keep seeking the answer.

Severus Snape had a huge headache. He shut the door to his private quarters and immediately poured himself a very large brandy, and gulped it down. He poured a second glass, and then went to sit in the chair before the fire.

He was now committed to being around the one person he both loathed, for what he represented, and loved for what he promised to become. Harry Potter.

The boy was growing into a y powerful, respectable young man, and Snape had to admit he could see what everyone else saw in the boy. He WAS humble, and noble. Which made hating him even more painful. Everyday, since the boy had come to Hogwarts, Snape had seen it, and it frustrated him to know end. All he wanted to do was hate the boy and be done with it, but every time he saw the boys eyes, he saw his own hate reflected back.

It was not Harry's hate he saw, but his own. Snape own hatred of James Potter, the boy who'd made his school days so awful, and the same arrogant son of a bitch that had stolen the heart of the one and only person in the whole of the world that Snape had ever cared for.

Severus had loved Lily Evans beyond words since he'd first seen her when they were children. He had explained to the young redheaded girl that all the amazing things she could do was because of magic. They had been friends, despite being in separate houses at Hogwarts, and she had defended him against James Potter, and his cruel friends. And then, Severus had gone and messed it all up by listening to those idiots and their propaganda.

They had accepted him when they saw just how smart he was, and how powerful he could be. They embraced him when they saw him creating his own spells. Spells he'd planned to use against Potter and Black. He wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine. He was being pulled away from Lily from the older, exciting Slytherins, while she was being enchanted by Potter.

Then, he had crossed the line, and done the unforgivable. He'd screamed at her in front of nearly the entire school when she was only trying to help him. He'd called her…

Snape sighed deeply as he stared into the roaring fire, and took a long sip of his glass.

That day he'd destroyed any chance he would ever have at winning fair lily's heart. And despite her cold indigence to him for their remaining time at Hogwarts, he still loved her. He pretended not to care, but his heart betrayed him every time he saw her. It was like a stab of fiery pain through his chest. And then, she and Potter had married.

The day he'd heard that news was the same day he'd devoted himself fully to his Dark Master. He would serve more faithfully than any other, and he would stand at his master's side when Lord Voldemort triumphed.

Then he had heard the prophecy, and things changed very quickly. When Lord Voldemort decided hat it must be the Potter child, Snape's world flew out of control. No one would be able to save Lily from the Dark Lord. No one, save perhaps Albus Dumbledore. That was why Snape had gone and begged on his hands and knees that the leader of the light do something. He even agreed to act as a spy if only Lily would be spared.

She hadn't. She had sacrificed her life for that of her child. A child, that had he only tried to be the person she had once believed him to be, could have been his own. A child that represented the very best, and the very worst of Snape's childhood. A child that might be a savior to an entire world.

For ten long years, Snape had dreaded the day in which Harry Potter would return to the magical world that was his birthright. He never forgot about the child, and had on two occasions nearly gone to see the boy. He never had been able to explain why he had felt the need to seek out the boy, and had thankfully talked himself out of it each time. How would he have even introduced himself?

"Hello, I'm the reason you have no parents?"

Not to mention that the boy lived with Lily's cretin of a sister. Petunia had been cruel and snotty when they were children. Her attitude had only worsened over the years, and Snape had remembered how hurt Lily had been each year when they returned to school.

So Snape built up a mental image of the boy. Before he had ever even met the boy, Snape had decided the boy would be just like his father. An arrogant, self serving, immature little prick. As such, his own pride had gotten the better of him, and he aimed years of repressed hatred out onto the boy who had never known his father's cruelty or his pride. Harry potter could no more have been like James, than Severus Snape could have been like Merlin.

And what was worse was that the boy possessed Lily's kind, warm eyes. And when he looked at the boy the very first time, he could see Lily's disappointment. It had only made matters worse. All the hate he had held onto turned inward in that very instant. Snape realized over the next few years that he no longer hated James Potter, or Sirius Black, or anyone else anymore. He hated himself. And each and every time he saw the boy, that hate was projected onto Harry Potter.

And now, Dumbledore was urging that he forgive himself, and tell the boy everything. As if by some miracle everything would just evaporate, and he could just move on. The old man's unshakable faith in the human condition and the human heart.

Well some people just could not love, or allow themselves to be loved. Not after all they had done. Some people clung to their hatred as if it were as precious as air. Snape would never let go of his hate. He would never forgive himself, and he'd be damned if he ever allowed Harry Bloody Potter the chance to forgive him for that part he played in his life.

No. Snape decided he would play his part. He would remain the villain in this particular drama, and when Lord Voldemort was no more, he would die with his secrets and his hate. It was his burden alone to bear, and he didn't want anyone's pity or sorrow, or even their love. He was damned, and he wished to stay that way.

Finishing the last of his second brandy, he stood to refill his glass, as his thoughts turned to what he still had to accomplish. He was going to save Draco Malfoy's soul, and take the life of the greatest wizard since Merlin himself. Albus Dumbledore was going to die at his hand.

Over the last fifteen years, Snape had truly come to care for the man who had proven that people can change. Snape himself was supposed to be an example of that. He had given his life to the dark, only to redeem himself by trying to save Lily Evans life. Though he had failed, he had pledge to protect her child.

But Snape couldn't even claim he'd done thing to protect the boy. In fact, he was as nearly guilty as the Dark Lord for harassment of young Harry. Maybe that was why all he ever saw in the boy's eyes was Lily's eternal disappointment and her sadness.

Still, Dumbledore remained firm in his convictions, despite very obvious examples to the contrary. He trusted Severus implicitly, and would defend the man to anyone who questioned the man's loyalty, all the while keeping his darkest secret.

His chest felt constricted as he thought of what he was going to have to do before the end of the year. He would cast the most unforgivable of curses and rob the man of his life. Dumbledore always smiled when the topic was brought up, and chuckled about how he would still keep his dignity at the end. As if dying, warm in his bed was such a bad way to go. Snape was even surprised at how well he had taken the news that he was being specifically targeted. Like he was relieved.

Snape corked the Brandy bottle without refilling his glass. His mind reeled for a moment as the realization hit him. The old man wanted to die.

Dumbledore knew that he was not going to live through this war. He knew that he was losing his strength. After the battle at the Ministry last June, the old man had taken longer to recuperate than he would have a few years ago. He knew than that it was his time. He was going to make a martyr of himself.

It was brilliant. Perhaps it would give others the courage they would need to fight against the Dark Lord. Dumbledore had been planning this before Voldemort had come up with the idea that Draco should attempt to kill the greatest wizard of the age. Dumbledore had simply adjusted his plans accordingly to not only save Draco's soul, but to make his death something for the forces of light to rally against.

But where did that leave Snape? He would be the one to strike the final blow? He would forever be marked as the cold, sinister killer who had bided his time, waiting for the absolute perfect moment in which to kill the man who had protected him.

Snape would be the Judas.

Snape thought about that for a few moments, before he resigned himself to his part.

"Fine." He thought. "Why shouldn't I reprise my role as ultimate betrayer. I did it to her, why not to Dumbledore? Let them remember me as the serpent. It is not their judgment I care about anyway."

Snape sneered as he hefted his empty brandy glass and hurled it into the fire where it shattered. He would do as he promised. He would kill the old man, and he would do his best to keep the boy safe until all was ready for their final confrontation. And then, when it was all over, Severus Snape would finally put an end to all of his self hatred, and his life.