Note: Just one chapter today, I'm afraid. I've been really busy this past week.
Note2: Let it be said that I never used to have any time for Draco and found him an exceedingly unsympathetic character, until I saw the sixth film and Tom Felton's performance. He managed to do what Rowling never managed to do, and that was make me feel for a character that up till then, I had always loved to loathe. So thanks to Mr Felton for inspiring me to try and get inside an extremely complicated head.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Like Father, Like Son
Severus knew the identity of the silent presence hovering outside his slightly ajar office door without looking up. He had been expecting a visit from Draco Malfoy for some time now and it was fast becoming overdue. There was only so long that the boy could ignore Severus's presence in the castle, however hidden in the shadows that presence was. After he had tried so hard and to no great gain to keep his distance and muddle through on his own last year, Draco had visibly been in two minds about confiding in the professor. Severus could see it in his darting, nervous eyes every time their paths crossed.
He wondered at the great change that his student had undergone in just a few short years. When he had first crossed the threshold of the castle, he had been so sure, so arrogant, so seemingly at ease with everything if not everyone, attacking those he felt threatened by. He had been, in short, exactly like his father, and Severus knew that it could be no coincidence that the beginnings of Draco's comparatively sudden change of demeanour had come at the same time as Lucius's incarceration. In a way, the two Malfoy men were mirrors, the actions and emotions of one having an immediate, if indirect, effect on the other. As Lucius sank further and further into the well of cynical and wandless despair, so his son was also sliding along a slippery downwards slope, although perhaps without quite so much brandy. It was undeniable, however, that Draco was not and would probably never again be the same as he once was. He had lost the Malfoy pride that was so key to his existence; both he and Lucius had lost it having been reminded of their fragile state of being, and at that moment in time they simply could not afford to be proud. All that mattered now was their continued survival, no matter how dire the conditions thereof were. For as long as they still living, the Dark Lord could not hold the ultimate triumph over them.
After several minutes had passed and Severus became certain that Draco was not going to do anything of his own accord to announce his presence, he broke the silence himself, still without looking up from a particularly ludicrous first-year essay on the possible merits of wearing a tea cosy on one's head as a method of protection against legilimency.
"Come in, Draco," he said calmly, grimly striking through an entire paragraph with green ink. Contrary to lasting and popular perception of him, Severus did not exactly revel in criticising his student's efforts, he merely became exasperated when they made the same stupid mistakes over and over again and showed no desire to learn. It was no secret that Severus had never held any lasting yen to be a teacher in his youth, but now that he was one, the vocation had grown and enveloped him, and after so many years of experience he was as passionate about his craft and the imparting of knowledge to the next generation as any of the other staff members.
Finally, Severus dragged himself away from the essay before melancholia threatened to overwhelm him, and he looked at his younger visitor. Draco was standing by the door that he had closed behind him on entering, looking into the middle distance and chewing absently on a fingernail. This was something that Severus would never have expected the Draco of two years ago to do, and it was also another thing that he had in common with his father. Lucius, Severus knew from his schooldays, had always been a closet nailbiter, and if recent events were anything to go by, then Severus thought it highly likely that his older friend was living off a steady diet of cognac and keratin. He motioned for Draco to sit in the chair opposite him and found himself comparing the young blond to his maternal parent. Whilst in looks and mannerisms the boy took after Lucius, there was something in his personality that reminded Severus of Narcissa. After a moment of contemplation, he realised that it was fear. Narcissa was often felt by those who did not know her to be a highly-strung, uptight woman, and at first glance she was indeed tightly wound, but Severus knew that for the most part, this stemmed from nervousness. Having seen the way in which she had broken down when she had come to beg him for help the summer before last, and having seen the way that Draco had retreated into himself during that past year and even more so during the current one, Severus was more than a little inclined to say that mother and son shared this easily unnerved aspect of their personality.
"How can I help you, Draco?" Severus asked eventually, trying to prompt the boy into speaking and revealing his reasons for visiting the professor outside of normal teaching hours. He put down his quill and focused his full attention on his student, carefully reading his expressions and the telltale signs as to the directions that his thoughts were travelling in.
At length Draco spoke.
"It's nearly Christmas," he said, the statement so completely unrelated to anything that Severus had to shake his head slightly to check that he had heard correctly. It was indeed nearly Christmas, the past few months had passed in a blur as the castle settled into something of an uneasy normality. Whilst the school was not aware of the underlying nature of what had happened to Professor Vector at the beginning of November, there was no doubting that they knew 'something' was up, and that 'something' was unlikely to have a pleasant ending. Whilst no-one was labouring under the pretence that everything was perfectly fine, everyone was trying so desperately to keep going in spite of the increasingly bleak situation that was surrounding the castle and constantly baying at its closed doors. When something happened that reminded them that the castle was not really as impenetrable as they liked to think it, the mindset of the school as a whole was turned on its head as they remembered, however painfully, that it was only a matter of time.
"It's been four months," Draco continued, and at this point, Severus knew to what he was alluding. They had spent four months in an uneasy limbo, four months in which the Dark Lord had slowly taken over the country and made his malevolent presence felt in every corner of society except the one in which they now stood. They had spent the past four months waiting on tenterhooks for something, anything that would tell them when the attack against the school would come. It was an inevitable event, but they had not heard the slightest whisper, and this was unnerving Severus. From the direction that their stilted conversation was taking, it was unnerving Draco as well.
The boy took an unconscious glance around the room and then seemed to crumple, finally bowing to break under the pressure on his shoulders. For all his height and bearing, he suddenly looked very small, and Severus was reminded of the first-year he had once known, hiding behind a wall of biting bravado. Draco had been brought up to think himself superior to all the muggle-born and half-blood students, as was to be expected given his parentage, but when he had found that (academically speaking at the very least) he was not, hasty repair work in the form of general nastiness had been undertaken.
"I don't care what happens," he said at length. "I just want something to happen. I can't stand this waiting, it's driving me mad." He paused, shaking his head, and his next sentence made Severus stop his reminiscent musings and pay complete and acute attention. "I don't want him here."
"Pardon?"
"I don't want him here, in Hogwarts," mumbled Draco, immediately looking as if he wished he could take this statement back. He straightened up, suddenly defensive, and his hands curled into fists where they had been resting on his knees. "For the past four months this is the only place I've felt remotely safe." He gave a sour laugh. "When you feel like a stranger in your own house you've got to have somewhere that you can nearly call home. If he comes here, takes over here, then I've got nowhere. When I'm at home, he's always there, even if he's not there." Draco gesticulated wildly, trying to explain his incoherent jumble of words. "You can still feel his influence, looking over your shoulder all the time."
Severus knew the feeling.
"And my parents are at home," Draco continued, staring off to the middle distance. Severus briefly wondered if his student really realised whether he was talking to Severus or not, and whether he thought of Severus in the same way that the other Death Eaters did – a not-quite-trustworthy but undoubtedly close lieutenant of the Dark Lord. As the head of his house, Severus had always been a listening post for worried and homesick Slytherins, including Draco. It was obvious that at some level, Draco still saw his teacher in this light, and at that moment in time, he didn't care about the possible consequences of confiding his misgivings in someone ostensibly so close to the master of which they spoke. He needn't have worried; Severus had no intention of passing on the details of the meeting. He waited patiently for Draco to speak again.
"All he has to do is threaten them and he knows I'll jump." There was undisguised bitterness in Draco's voice, "I'm safer here than I am at home. You never think you'll have to protect your own father."
Severus understood the root of the problem that Draco was half-explaining in a very roundabout way. After the events of the summer, Draco and Narcissa were now the family's final defence against the presence lurking in their house. Whilst Narcissa, like all mothers, was a formidable fighter whenever her brood was threatened, she was also comparatively unimportant in the Dark Lord's grander schemes. Draco, on the other hand, was a useful asset as both a marked member and an insider in Hogwarts, the final unattainable trophy. Naturally, it was Draco who was carrying the pressure, a pressure that he wanted nothing more than to be rid of. And Severus had no doubt that Draco would have rebelled sooner had he not feared the consequences. He knew that Draco had been having doubts about this new calling from the moment that he had received the mark. As Dumbledore had remarked at the end of the previous school year on the Astronomy tower, he had tried to avoid his destiny as much as he could.
But avoid it he could not. Severus thought briefly of Rowle and his slaughtered in-laws. There had not been the slightest hint of insubordination in his case and death had still followed in the wake; he dreaded to think what would happen to the Malfoys should Draco actively turn his back. He was under the Dark Lord's thumb completely, and like all people in his situation, he resented his helplessness.
Before he had time to offer any sort of advice or consolation, not that he could think of anything fitting at that point in time, Severus felt an all-too-familiar burn on his forearm. He raised an eyebrow slightly as Draco started in his seat having felt it too.
"Shall we?" he said, indicating the door and the way towards the perimeter boundary and the ability to apparate. Draco nodded reluctantly and they left the room. It was late in the evening and the castle was putting itself to bed; the few roaming final-years and ghosts that they encountered on their way through the building didn't comment on where the school's most suspicious professor and student were going so purposefully. Let them speculate all they liked, thought Severus. They were bound to come up with the correct conclusion sooner or later; after all, the Astronomy tower incident was no secret. Gossip had never yet caused physical wounds, and Severus was perfectly ready to ignore it.
They collided with the Bloody Baron in the entrance hall, and whilst the spectre said nothing, he looked at Draco through narrowed eyes, as if he were trying to read him and failing. The idea made Severus think of Draco's classmates and the sort of regard that they now held him in after everything that had happened. Fear was present, there was no doubt of that, but Severus was certain that despite this, Draco had lost respect amongst his peers in recent months. He had certainly seemed to be alone a lot more than he had been in previous years.
All too soon they found themselves staring up at the foreboding manor that Draco had not really been able to call home since the summer, the open door inviting them into a blackness that seemed to be darker every time Severus stared into it, as if the house itself was absorbing and reflecting the menaces that went on within its walls. As they stepped inside, Severus caught a glimpse of something pale disappearing into the shadows. It took his eyes a moment to get used to the lack of light as the door closed behind him and shut out what little moon there was on the cloudy night, but once they were, he saw the faintest tendrils of a patronus disappear into the ether, revealing Narcissa's face behind the fading swan pen. Severus felt that there had always been something tragic about swans, a tragedy that reflected Narcissa well. Protective, beautiful, loyal till the end, but somehow overwhelmed with sadness. He shrugged away the thought, putting it down to Swan Lake. Draco went over to his mother and they exchanged a few inaudible words before he disappeared into the drawing room that served as their base of operations. The similarities between mother and son were highlighted once more, and Severus found himself wondering what the future had in store for this family, seemingly doomed to remain in their vicious circle. He made to enter the drawing room but a hand caught his arm.
"You will look out for him, won't you? Please?" Narcissa's voice was unsure.
Severus nodded, unconsciously flexing the wrist that had been bound by her vow. Draco was the final barrier between his family and the Dark Lord, but it was a task that all parties knew he was not and never would be ready for. As he had said to Minerva at the beginning of the year, he was going to have to keep a very close eye on Draco to prevent his doing something irretrievable.
As he sat in his now-accustomed chair on the right hand side of the table, Severus wondered. They had truly passed the point of taking sides now. Draco and Narcissa did not care who he worked for as long as they could come to him for help. It had become a state of every man for himself. The insubordination had set in, and it was only a matter of time before the ranks that it infected crumbled under its influence. The only question that remained was a simple one. How long before the cataclysm occurred?
Note3: We're definitely nearing Christmas now! *Looks around at the bright April sunshine and shrugs.* I've said before that this story moves in arcs and I'm just reiterating that. We're coming up to a 'Death-Eater-Arc' at the moment. ( There will be brandy, there will be baked goods and there will be kilts...) Do not despair Harry and Minerva fans, we shall be back with them soon.