Snape regarded Draco's drawn face as he entered the lab, envelope clutched in his hand. "I see your results have arrived."

"Yes," Draco said, shutting the door. He sat down in front of the portrait. Dark shadows smudged underneath Draco's eyes, casting a pallor over his pale skin. He bore a look Snape hadn't seen cross his face in years: the anguish of an interminable situation.

Snape's eyebrow rose as he placed his tea on the table and sat, bringing himself closer to Draco's line of sight. "You haven't opened it." He scoffed, "You can't possibly be worried about the results, can you?"

"No," Draco replied. "I was looking for Potter."

Snape held his breath for two beats before casually casting his gaze over the rest of the room. In the silence, he offered, "Did you try his room? You told me he naps intermittently."

"I knocked, but there was no answer."

"Ah, well, I'm sure he'll turn up. Were you planning on waiting for Potter, or are you going to keep me in suspense as to the fruits of my tutoring efforts? It wouldn't surprise me if you were." The tone was as dry as he could make it, and the sound hit its mark as Draco's lips curled into a fond smile.

"I don't know why you feign otherwise, I know you know what's in here," Draco said, looking up from the envelope as he opened it. "Granger tells me that you and she have been deep in meetings the past few days. Why else would you be plotting with her if I hadn't passed?"

"Don't be impertinent." He leaned forward, as if he were real once again, but stopped at Draco's wide smile.

"I passed."

Snape snorted. "Of course you did. You are my pupil."

"Were," Draco shot back with smile, holding up the letter. "Apparently, you taught me everything you know."

"About potions, perhaps."

Draco's smile faded a bit. "Well, I didn't sign up for the Severus Snape life-coaching course, so I'm afraid potions will have to suffice."

Snape let the jab slide. "Outstanding?" he asked, inclining his head to the letter.

"Of course."

Draco's fingers curled around the letter as he sighed, and it hit Snape that Draco had only entered the room looking for Potter.

Snape drew back into the chair and let the professor take over. "When is the last time you saw Potter?"

"Day before yesterday, I think." Draco's face pinched. "It's not the letter. Potter needs to eat." The statement crossed Draco's lips as a matter of fact, yet Snape heard the underlying tone.

"I thought things were going well between you," he ventured. "There's been no bloodshed." He paused with a smirk as Draco frowned at him. "You know what I mean."

Draco shook his head. "It is what it is," he replied softly. "And that's all it's going to be. Potter's made it quite clear how he feels. I know my place." Draco's brows knit together and he tilted his head in deference. "Draco is being serving Master Potter."

Snape's eyes widened at Draco's house-elf affect. "Is that what you think? You're little more that Potter's house-elf?"

Draco's head drifted lower in subservience. "Draco is being Master Potter's warm meal. Draco is knowing his usefulness."

"Draco—" Snape's breath stalled in his lungs as Draco's voice broke.

"Draco is being a good Consort."

Snape stared at him, open-mouthed, as Draco stood, clutching the letter in his hands.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to track Potter down," he said as he headed to the door.

"Don't do this, Draco. You have more fight than this," Snape said.

Draco turned, and the wan expression on his face faltered into a resigned smile at the corner of his lips. "I used to think so."

Snape's mouth tightened into a thin, disapproving line. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"Not particularly, no."

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Snape stood and stepped behind the chair, letting himself fume for a brief moment before turning his glare to the sofa in the far corner of the room. "Do you want to know what I think?"

Potter's tousled head appeared over the back, his grim expression making Snape's fingers curl into the upholstery until the fabric cut into the pads of his fingers.

"Not particularly, no," Potter parroted.

"Tough, because I'm going to tell you anyway." If Potter looked the tiniest bit put out at that, all the better. "Idiots, the both of you." Potter snorted in response. "I've had my fair share stumble through my classroom over the years, but you and Draco have taken blatant idiocy and raised it to an art form."

"I don't really give two shits about what you think," Potter said, shaking his head.

"And Draco?" He leaned on the chair for support, trying to curtail the desire to reach through the portrait and throttle Potter.

"That's none of your concern."

"Bollocks." Potter's eyebrow rose at the expletive. "An absolute crock of utter shite if ever I heard one."

"Still direct after all this time, I see," Potter said, rising from the sofa.

"And you're still just as stubborn, just like—"

"If this is where you say 'your father', I will Incendio you inside that fucking frame," Potter interrupted.

Snape harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I was going to say 'just like I remember', you arrogant brat. I do believe that I have managed to separate the father from the son at last. But now that you mention it, no, this special brand of obstinacy has to be a Harry Potter original. Your father was an arse, but he was never this stupid."

Potter bared his fangs and hissed, rushing at the frame. Snape stood his ground, not shrinking. "Predicable. When called out on his failings, the Chosen One resorts to simple bullying." He placed his hands on the wingback and leaned forward to drawl, "Now that is all James Potter."

Potter's hands clenched at his sides, and the glare in his eyes promised untold violence. Snape let his gaze flick over the vampire in disdain and continued, "As usual, you don't have any idea what you're doing, or you do and you don't care. I'm not certain which is worse."

"What are you talking about?" Potter growled.

Snape inclined his head to the closed door. "Draco. What you're doing to Draco."

"I haven't done anything to Draco," Potter protested.

"A sin of omission is still a sin."

Potter paled and his lip curled into a snarl. "Draco is fine." The vampire's words were forced out with vehemence.

Snape regarded Potter with a long, searching look. "Do you honestly think that if you push him away, you can keep him safe?"

Potter took an unsteady step back, bracing himself on a chair. "What—that's not—"

"That's what you do, isn't it, Potter? Push people away so they don't get hurt? Because you think that's what happens when you let people get close to you. They get hurt, or they die. And you can't save everyone."

"It isn't—I don't—" Potter stammered.

"War happened, Harry," Snape stressed, "and there wasn't anything else you could do. There wasn't anything else the rest of us could do, either. People died. It's sad and it's terrible, but it's the truth. The Dark Lord is to blame, not you."

"There were attempts…" Potter whispered, his face open and heartbroken. "Even after I became this."

"So you push him away, pretend you don't care? Because you think it will hurt less if something does happen to him?" A suspicious gleam appeared in the corner of Potter's eyes, one that threatened at wetness. "You're already invested, surely you see that? It's going to hurt no matter what if you lose him. You have to ask yourself which is worse, having nothing but happy memories, or regretting having nothing at all?"

"He will always be in danger if he's with me," Potter protested. "I have to protect him. And that means objectivity."

"You're a fool," Snape spat. "A cowardly fool. You're not protecting Draco, you're protecting yourself."

This time Potter flinched as the barb struck home. "I'm doing what's best for him."

"Merlin, you're so shortsighted, you can't even see what's happening to him," Snape came around to the forefront of the portrait, flinging his arms in vexation. "Look at him!" he gritted through clenched teeth. "He's about to reach his breaking point, and when he breaks, he will run. He will not look back. Because that's what Draco does. He runs. If there's one thing Lucius Malfoy managed to beat into the boy, it's self-preservation. The need to save face at all costs."

Potter snarled, "Please tell me you are not comparing me to Lucius fucking Malfoy."

"I am, because even dead, that man has his hooks in Draco's soul as surely as you do. If you keep this up, you will lose him, I guarantee it."

Potter closed his eyes and turned his face. "The risk—"

"Screw the fucking risk, Harry. There is no risk in refusing to love him because you're afraid to lose him. And that's exactly what you are doing. You'll open your eyes to discover he's gone, and you'll have to live with the knowledge that you could have changed it. That will change you. And I promise you, you won't like what you become."

"And what is that?" Potter shot back.

Snape face twisted into a thin line of regret. "Me."