Draco popped the last bit of his toast in his mouth and stuffed his hands in his pockets, his schoolbag swinging gently against his side as he left the Great Hall. While the rest of his housemates headed up the marble staircase to Charms, he took the familiar path down to the dungeons and Snape's office. It was time for his career advice meeting, and bummed as he was to be missing one of his favorite classes, he was rather grateful that he wasn't missing Transfiguration instead – that particular subject had always given him trouble, and with O.W.L.s just around the corner, he needed every bit of review he could get if he hoped to achieve a high mark. As nearly everyone else was on their way to classes, the dungeons were quiet and deserted, and Draco reached his Head of House's office with ease. Steeling himself for the meeting – Snape was intimidating no matter who you were – he raised a fist and rapped sharply on the door.

"Enter."

Draco pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. Snape's office was as daunting as the man himself – the furniture was made of dark, heavy wood, all manner of creepy things sat pickled or preserved in jars on narrow shelves lining the walls, and there was little light save for the shadows thrown by the low fire.

"Well don't just stand there, Mr. Black, come in," Snape demanded. Draco, who realized he'd been taking in the sight of the office for far longer than was polite, hurriedly snapped out of his daze and sat down on the visitors' side of Snape's desk. Snape set aside the pile of essays he'd been grading and rummaged through a stack of parchment before pulling out a sheet that had Draco's name written clearly across the top – Draco suspected that stack contained a file for each one of his housemates as well. Snape studied the file for a moment, then spoke.

"I see very little point to these meetings," he said. "One can hardly expect a fifteen-year-old to know exactly what he plans to do with his life…unless, of course, he plans to follow in his father's footsteps or has the utterly foolish desire to be a professional Quidditch player. Tell me, Mr. Black, do you fall into either of those categories?" He fixed his dark eyes on Draco, who tried very hard not to blink.

"No, sir," Draco said. "If I'm being honest, I haven't the faintest idea what I want to do with myself."

"You and everyone else," Snape muttered. He picked up Draco's file again and skimmed over the other professors' notes.

"Your marks are satisfactory," he said as he read. "Professor Flitwick speaks highly of your abilities in his class and has given you an O on several recent assignments. You have also deservedly earned the high marks you've received in Potions, and I have no doubt you have the aptitude to earn the O necessary to proceed to N.E.W.T. level."

"An O, sir?" Draco repeated, trying to hide his shock at Snape's outward praise. Snape hardly ever gave even his own house more than a curt nod of approval.

"Yes, Mr. Black. Most of the other professors will accept a grade of E or better, and some will take anyone who passes, but Potions, I would argue, has the highest potential for disastrous or even deadly consequences if done incorrectly, and as such, I refuse to take anything less than the best into a class that demands such precision. Now, given that you have yet to choose a career path, your best chances for a broad variety of options necessitate N.E.W.T. work in Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology."

"That's exactly what Mum told us over the holidays," Draco agreed. Snape looked pained for a moment, and Draco flinched. Probably a bit tactless to mention Lily in front of Snape.

"Sound advice," Snape said instead. "Of those courses, it looks as though your biggest obstacle is Transfiguration – Minerva's limit is an Exceeds Expectations, and you're averaging Acceptable at the moment. You'll have to work hard to bring that up and ensure success on the exam. Your Herbology marks are fine, and save for the abomination that was this year, you should have no issues with Defense Against the Dark Arts." Draco nodded in understanding.

"Have you given any thought to your other courses?" Snape continued. "In addition to the five we just discussed, you also currently take History of Magic, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes."

"Does anyone continue with History after fifth year?" Draco asked with a snort. Snape smirked.

"Now, now, Mr. Black," he chastised. "Just because Professor Binns employs a…less than illuminating teaching style does not mean that an N.E.W.T course is not offered. However, you are correct in saying that unless students harbor a particular interest in magical history, very few continue on."

"I don't think I have enough of an interest in Astronomy to pursue an N.E.W.T.," Draco continued. "As for my electives, I'm not sure. I think Care of Magical Creatures is the same as Astronomy – I like it well enough, but not enough to keep going. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are both difficult classes, but I enjoy them, so I think it might come down to my marks."

"Very well," Snape said. "That seems like a reasonable enough assessment for now." He paused to make some notes on Draco's parchment, then studied the blond teenager intently for several long minutes.

"Your mother would be proud of you, you know," he said quietly. Draco's head jerked up at the unexpected statement, not even bothering to hide his shock this time.

"Sir?"

"Your mother would be proud, if she could see the young man you've become," Snape repeated.

"How do you know, sir?" Draco asked.

"Narcissa did not openly show affection to many – it simply wasn't her style. However, it was clear just being in the same room how much she doted on you – and not just in the materialistic sense. She loved you more than anything, even Lucius, and wanted nothing but the best for you. Oh, she embraced notions of blood purity and the Dark Arts, yes, but never as readily as her husband – I think Andromeda's estrangement affected her more than she ever let on, and she did not allow those views to blind her when it came to your safety. If she truly believed in the Dark Lord's cause, she would never even have considered choosing the guardians she did, but instead, she decided that she wanted you to grow up away from those Dark influences. If she could see you now, I think she would be pleased."

"Thank you," Draco said quietly. He didn't quite know what else to say.

"I haven't had nearly the presence in your life that your parents probably would have insisted on had you grown up at the Manor, but I am still your godfather, Draco," Snape continued, using his charge's given name for the first time. "Lucius was…not a friend, per se, but a mentor during my Hogwarts days – he was a prefect during my first year – and Narcissa was kind, offering her company when others would not. If there is anything you wish to know, I will do my best to help you."

Draco was quiet for a long moment as he contemplated Snape's words. They weren't anything he'd come prepared for, and so he couldn't think of much he wanted to know, but it stood to reason that Snape had known his parents rather well if they'd chosen him to be their son's godfather. In a strange way, it felt good to know that someone was willing to talk about his parents, even if that someone was the prickly Potions master. He withdrew the magical chain from under his collar and ran his fingers over his mother's ring, thinking of the woman who had once worn it. The familiar object brought to mind a discussion from long ago, and he asked, "Do you know what Lucius' parents gifted to him and my mother upon their engagement?" Snape looked bemused.

"That is a rather odd question," he said. "I'm not sure I understand your meaning."

"Over the Christmas holidays in my first year, Sirius explained the customs of Pureblood engagements to us, when Harry asked why my mother's ring was from the Black vaults as opposed to the Malfoys'," Draco said. "He told us that the groom-to-be is given free rein to choose a ring from either family's vault, and whichever family the chosen ring does not belong to gifts the couple something else from their vault. I was curious if you knew what the elder Malfoys chose."

"Ah, yes," Snape said with a nod. "That custom is practiced in so few families that I'd quite forgotten about it. As for what your grandparents chose, I'm afraid I can't help you – from what I understand, the chosen gift usually has some significance to it, as it must be perceived to be as important as the engagement ring to keep both pieces on equal footing. The actual gift, however, is generally not common knowledge. Gringotts might be able to help you, however, as I do believe their meticulous records include such transfers."

"I'll be sure to stop in over the summer then," Draco said. "I can't really say why I want to know what the gift was, but I do." He glanced at his watch.

"Yes, it is time for you to be moving along," Snape said with a smirk. "Regrettable as it is, I have a class of second years waiting for me after morning break, and you have lessons as well." Draco stood and picked up his bag, pausing by the door.

"Thank you, Professor," he said.

"Don't get sentimental, get out of here," Snape replied, but there was a hint of softness in his tone as he shooed his godson out. Draco chuckled to himself as he trotted up the steps and into the courtyard just as the bell to end first period rang. Tough old Snape really did have a heart.

The rest of the week passed quickly, and soon it was the morning of the Quidditch final. The students were boisterous and excited as they ate breakfast and discussed the upcoming match – the percentage of Gryffindor supporters was far higher, but those cheering for Slytherin made themselves known, many decked out in green and silver from head to toe. Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the post, which included a letter each for himself and Hermione. Harry smiled as he read the good-luck message from his mum and Padfoot, but his smile turned to a frown when he heard sniffles from his right.

"What's wrong, Maya?" he asked, seeing all too clearly the tears glistening in his friend's eyes. Hermione shook her head and wiped away the offending moisture before offering him a smile.

"Happy tears, Harry," she said softly. "Mum and Dad agreed to the plan." It only took Harry a moment to remember their conversation from the Hogwarts Express, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her in a supportive embrace.

"I'm glad," he said just as quietly. "I know you were worried about them, and I was too. Did they say much about it?"

"No," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "Your mum's got them trained in the art of Wizarding world discretion." They both chuckled.

"She did, however, say that she's purchased tickets to Boston for her, my dad and me for this summer – she didn't give exact dates, but she did get them."

"That's great," Harry said sincerely. "I hope the Americans can help us."

"Me too – but right now, you need to concentrate on Quidditch," Hermione said firmly as she pressed another piece of toast in Harry's hand.

"Ah, yes, Quidditch…whatever are you going to do, Maya? The last time these two teams met in the finals, you didn't have a boyfriend on the rival squad," Harry teased, taking a large bite of the toast.

"The last time these two teams met in the finals, I played against said boyfriend – and won," Hermione reminded him with a shove. "Besides – once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor. In the case of Quidditch, that comes first. But if you're really worried, I've got my bases covered." She gestured towards the emerald ribbon she'd subtly woven into her plait, and then pointedly at the rest of her ensemble, which was decidedly red and gold.

"Alright, alright," Harry said with a grin.

"Alright, indeed," Hermione snorted. "Now shut up about my wardrobe and go catch that Snitch!" Harry couldn't help but burst into raucous laughter, and he was still chuckling when Angelina gestured for her team to follow her to the stadium. Gradually, the Great Hall emptied as the spectators headed for the pitch while the two teams made for the locker rooms, and Lee Jordan's magically amplified voice soon echoed throughout the stands:

"Goooood morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to today's Quidditch final!" The crowd roared its approval, and Lee grinned broadly.

"Please welcome…team Gryffindor!" he shouted. The scarlet-and-gold-clad supporters cheered loudly as the Gryffindor team appeared. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Weasley! Yes folks, there really are that many Weasleys," Lee joked, and laughter rang out amongst the Gryffindors.

"And now…team Slytherin!" Seven emerald blurs raced forth from their tunnel, and the Slytherin supporters shouted their approval over the Gryffindors' boos. "Higgs, Black, Montague, Warrington, Crabbe, Goyle, and Bletchley!" The Slytherin team touched down to take their places around the starting circle across from the Gryffindors, and Madam Hooch gestured for the captains to shake hands.

"And they're off!" Lee shouted as fifteen broomsticks shot skyward. "Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor takes possession, passes to Katie Bell, back to Johnson, to Alicia Spinnet, who – watch out, that's a Bludger! Spinnet avoids the Bludger but drops the Quaffle, and it's Draco Black of Slytherin with the Quaffle. Black to Warrington, to Black, to Montague, Montague going for goal, shoots – SAVED by Ron Weasley!" Ron punched the air triumphantly as the Gryffindors cheered.

"Weasley number one passes to Katie Bell, who avoids the Bludgers thanks to Weasleys number two and three – point of interest, Weasley number four is on this year's reserve squad, and you can bet she'll be vying for a position in Gryffindor's starting lineup next season! A Quidditch dynasty, that family is – older brother Charlie Weasley was one of the best-"

"Jordan, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?" Professor McGonagall interrupted.

"Right you are, Professor!" came Lee's cheeky response. "Number of Weasleys aside, it's Katie Bell of Gryffindor going for goal, and – YES! Ten-zero to Gryffindor!" Katie and Alicia high-fived as their paths crossed, and the Gryffindor supporters celebrated the first goal of the match.

"And it's Montague to Black, Black dodges two Weasleys, two Bludgers, and drops the Quaffle to Warrington, Warrington racing forward, come on, Ron, you can stop him!" But Warrington faked the shot and passed back to Draco instead, who easily put the Quaffle through the unguarded left hoop.

"Better luck next time, Ron!" Lee said consolingly. "Ten-all and the game continues as…I say, what's that? It sounds like singing!"

And indeed, the block of green and silver at one end of the pitch was singing, softly at first, but then the lyrics became more audible as their volume increased:

"Weasley is our king, Weasley is our king…"

"Johnson to Spinnet, and Goyle hits himself with his own bat!" Lee crowed.

"Weasley was born in a bin, he always lets the Quaffle in, Weasley is our king…"

"Oh, damn," Harry muttered as he caught wind of the song. Ron's greatest weakness had always been his self-doubt. Harry distinctly remembered the first goal Ravenclaw had scored on Ron – Ron had been flustered and unnerved and let in four more goals in rapid succession before he finally got himself together. The Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was far more intense, and the animosity between those two houses much higher. Slytherin scored again, and the chant continued:

"He cannot block a single ring, that's why Slytherins all sing Weasley is our king…"

Harry rapidly shot downward and shouted, "Block them out, Ron!" If Ron didn't snap out of it soon…not only was Slytherin their biggest rival, but also their toughest opponent. It wouldn't be too far-fetched for them to run up the score…damn it, where was the Snitch?

"Angelina Johnson scores!" Lee shouted.

The fierce battle of the Chasers continued, the Slytherins' song growing progressively louder as the game went on. Harry could see several teachers trying to subdue the Slytherins, but there were far too many students to stop them completely.

"WEASLEY IS OUR KING! WEASLEY IS OUR KING!"

Harry raced frantically around the stadium, praying fervently that the elusive Snitch would make an appearance soon, and he finally caught sight of what he was looking for – the little golden ball was hovering over the Slytherin supporters, directly above Pansy Parkinson's head. Without a second thought, Harry kicked off like a bullet and shot towards the Slytherins. The effect was twofold – many of them screamed and ducked out of the way as Harry raced towards them, which in turn left his path to the Snitch completely free. He closed his fist around his prize and flew upwards again, his arm raised high.

"Harry Potter has the Snitch!" Lee called. "The game is over! It's a…oh…"

"It's a tie," Harry said quietly. The only people who were close enough to hear him were Draco and Katie, the latter of whom still held the Quaffle.

"It's a tie," Lee repeated for the whole stadium's benefit. "Based on point differential, the Quidditch Cup winner is…Slytherin."

The Gryffindors' groans were drowned out as the Slytherin stands exploded with cheers. However, all noise stopped immediately when a smooth voice they all knew well cut through Lee's magical megaphone:

"If you know what's good for you, you will all return to your common rooms immediately."

Katie nearly dropped the Quaffle in shock, and players and spectators alike hastened to obey. Nobody dared cross Professor Snape.

"What d'you reckon's his deal?" Fred asked Harry as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower with the rest of the team.

"No idea," Harry muttered. "With Snape, it could be anything."

It wasn't until much later that the Gryffindors got their answer. Roughly an hour after dinner, Harry's charmed parchment heated up with a message from Draco:

Snape docked us fifty points and gave everyone involved with the song detention until the end of term. He told us the only reason he didn't revoke the Quidditch Cup as well was that none of the team was involved.

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny looked at each other. 'Involved with the song' was pretty vague – was that everyone who sang it? Everyone who wrote it? Either way, fifty points off and detention for the rest of the term? Whoa…

A/N: Been a while since we've had a full Quidditch match - 'Weasley is Our King' lyrics taken directly from HP OotP.

Re: Snape - in spite of his inapproachable air, intimidating attitude, etc. Snape is still human, & I tried to convey that here. I think he would care enough to speak with his godson the way he did, & I think that his own childhood (poverty, hints at a far-from-stellar home life, plus being a bit of an outcast/loner) would lead him to react the way he did to the song, since it's blatantly making fun of someone who - at least in the poverty aspect - shares something with Snape himself. Recall back in WFCTC that Snape sent Hermione to the hospital wing & punished the Slytherins for it when her teeth got hexed instead of saying 'I see no difference' - yes, he doesn't like the Gryffindors, but he's not as blatantly horrible to them here as he is in canon. Hope you all agree with me - he's a really tough character to write.

*Phew* now that that's out...thank you so much for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! One, maybe 2 more chapters of this installment, & then it gets crazy - get ready!

JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)