This standard story is written for THC/The Houses Competition (Round 9 - It all ends here).

House: Slytherin

Class: Transfiguration (Theme - Angst)

Main Prompt: [First line] I/He/She/They/Name never knew that a simple run in the morning could change my/his/her/their life, but it did.

Additional Prompt: [Dialogue (multiline)] "Trust in your gut." / "What's your gut telling you?"

Link/Title: Family First

Word Count: 2,986

Betas: VanillaAshes, DaughteroftheOneTrueKing, Fires of Eden Red Rose Aurora, Aya Diefair, CupCakeyy, and shy-n-great

Draco never knew that a simple run in the morning could change his life, but it did. He sped through the dungeons faster than a Firebolt, not caring if the Carrows caught him or if anyone asked what he was doing. If he was honest with himself, he didn't know what he was doing. All he cared about was catching the only man who seemed to care about him these days before the sun rose.

It was risky sneaking out. Of course, he was in the Carrows' favor since he carried the Mark, but it was still a risk. However, he didn't care. All he knew in his mind was that it was imperative he saw Professor Snape.

As he reached the back staircase, he panted. The last time he had run like this was when Professor Snape had killed Dumbledore. His lungs were burning, and he felt so out-of-breath he feared he'd never be able to catch it. When he eventually managed to catch his breath, though, he was back to running.

It wasn't too long before Draco arrived at the headmaster's office. He pounded on the door, neck prickling with sweat. He was so exhausted that he forgot Filch was prowling the halls. It was lucky that the stupid Squib wasn't anywhere on the seventh floor, thought Draco, as he realized the error of his indiscretion.

The door swung open to reveal a tired Professor Snape in silken black pajamas with soft slippers, completed with a coal-black robe. He was carrying a lantern that was highly reminiscent of Filch's. The image this created nearly made Draco burst into laughter, but he sobered at Professor Snape's stern look.

"What are you doing up so early?" asked the professor, his voice thick with grogginess. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't form any words. Nonetheless, Professor Snape murmured, "Get inside," before quickly ushering him past the threshold. Once the door clicked shut, said professor silently gestured to one of the guest chairs, turning on the lamps in the room and calling one of the house-elves for tea.

"I'm sorry, I know it's early—" Draco began explaining, but Professor Snape held his hand up for silence.

"Wait for the tea. It doesn't do either of us any good to ramble incoherently from a lack of sleep."

"Yes, sir," said Draco.

Professor Snape was the only teacher that Draco could find it in his heart to truly respect. McGonagall loved her Gryffindors but guaranteed them certain death if they dared to embarrass her House. Professor Snape, however, protected his Slytherins as if they were his children, and Draco knew the former would die for each and every one of them. The young Slytherin couldn't fathom anyone else being better than his former Head of House. No one could have done the job like he did.

There was a light pop, pulling Draco from his thoughts. The house-elf had arrived with tea. Once the tray was set, Snape dismissed the elf, and he started pouring the hot beverage into two teacups.

Professor Snape took a cup and put milk and sugar into it, gazing at Draco with an expression that spoke volumes about his current mood, which was irritation. He handed the cup to the young Slytherin, who sipped the tea gratefully.

"Now tell me what your problem is, Draco. You don't normally come sneaking about before the crack of dawn."

Draco sighed. He knew that Professor Snape would be understanding, but he still felt very nervous about being so vulnerable. The past two years had been hell. Yes, he did hate Mudbloods, but he never realized just how dangerous his tasks would be. He never figured that ruin and certain death would plague his family. The Dark Lord had loved his father, and if it weren't for Potter, then perhaps Draco wouldn't be doing his lord's dirty work. The prophecy wouldn't have been lost, and his family would be safe. Oh, Merlin, did Draco want out. He couldn't take another day of fearing that his mother would suffer the Cruciatus Curse—or worse yet, the Killing Curse—if he somehow failed as a servant.

"Though I admit I enjoy your company, Draco, I'd appreciate it if you tell me what is going on sometime before next year," said Professor Snape, smiling thinly.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, feeling stressed.

The thing was, he always had a nagging feeling that there was more to Professor Severus Snape than meets the eye. He was scared that perhaps, his professor wasn't on his side at all, and that he was actually playing both sides of the war; the boy had no doubt that Professor Snape was capable of doing such a thing.

Just then, Draco's eyes burned. Never in his life had he had to struggle. He'd been waited on, hand and foot. When he wanted something, he got something. He had never taken no for an answer. Now, he had to actually deal with hardships. He had a death sentence hanging over his head, and it was all because of Potter, who landed his father in Azkaban. If he didn't do what he was ordered to by the Dark Lord, he was assured that he'd find himself an orphan. The image of his dead mother suddenly appeared in Draco's head, and just like that, he was sobbing harder than he had before Potter cut him up last year.

He felt slightly embarrassed as Professor Snape walked around the chair he was standing behind and gently pulled Draco up, slowly drawing him into an embrace. The Slytherin gripped his teacher's robes tightly, fearing that if he let go, he'd crumple to the ground and not be able to get up again.

Professor Snape simply observed as Draco cried. The latter knew his teacher wasn't one to whisper useless platitudes and empty promises when someone was in pain. Instead, he'd try to alleviate the pain somewhat by offering physical comfort. It was the only time Professor Snape would willingly touch someone, and for that, Draco was grateful.

Once his sobs quieted, Professor Snape set Draco back down in his chair and took the seat in front of him. He took another long sip of his tea while waiting ever so patiently for Draco to speak of what was on his mind. After several minutes, the Slytherin finally found the courage to talk, and when he did, he said everything he needed to with four simple but powerful words:

"I can't do this."

Professor Snape remained silent, encouraging Draco to continue.

"Mother can't die, Professor," said Draco. "She—she just can't! If she did, I'd never be able to live with myself." Tears threatened to make a reappearance, but this time, he managed to keep them at bay. "Don't you see? The Dark Lord will kill my family if I don't do what he says! I can't do it!"

Professor Snape looked thoughtful as he replied softly, "Unfortunately, Draco, you have no choice in the matter. The Dark Lord is powerful. He will do whatever he deems necessary to achieve his goals. Also, you know very well of his vindictive streak. This should not be a surprise to you."

"I know, but…" Draco trailed off. He had no idea what he wanted to say—what he could say. His mother wasn't destined for death so long as he did his tasks, but those tasks were insanely difficult. He had a feeling that if he did them, something within him would be irreparably damaged. Draco couldn't take the suffering any longer. He needed an out, and he was sure Professor Snape would give it to him.

However, he was proven wrong.

"Go back to bed, Draco," said Professor Snape, not unkindly. "Before the Carrows know you're up, get back to your dorm. I'll send for you tonight."

Draco frowned. This wasn't what he had come for. He had come for a solution, and instead, he was being ordered back to bed like a small child.

"It would do well if you could trust me," said Professor Snape. "Don't misunderstand and think that this is the end of our conversation. We will talk. But for now, you must get back."

At that reassurance, Draco managed a small smile as he said, "Thank you, Professor."

There was no reply as the young Slytherin proceeded to slip out of the headmaster's office for the day, unaware of the gears currently turning in his professor's head.

…

As soon as Draco left, Severus turned to look at Albus's portrait.

"I know you were listening, Albus. Tell me what you heard."

Albus's eyes blinked open sleepily as he grinned benignly.

"Young Mr. Malfoy seems eager enough to defect if it means protecting his family. You should see about recruiting him."

"His beliefs haven't changed, though," argued Severus. "He still thinks Muggle-borns and half-bloods are lesser than him. He wants them dead."

"Yet, he listens to you so obediently," said Albus with a twinkle in his sharp blue eyes.

"But wouldn't he blab if I revealed my true side?" Severus questioned. There was a very real danger surrounding the fact that Draco had been known to tattle in the past. God knew how many times the professor had to hear of crying threats to others from the boy about how he'd go to his father and make them feel sorry. Who knew if Draco wasn't above betraying Severus as well?

"Something tells me that he won't," said Albus pensively. "Now, I'm not telling you to outright reveal that you're consorting with the likes of me, but give him a hint that you're willing to fight for him. Let him know that you're willing to fight for the families Tom has destroyed."

Sighing, Severus reluctantly agreed to the scheme Albus had just set forth by saying, "Fine. I will see about this recruitment."

"Excellent!" Severus could practically feel his mentor's eager bounce with that exclamation. "Now, I suggest you follow your own advice and go back to sleep. It will not do you any good to be half-asleep in a time you should be alert."

"Of course, Albus. I understand that completely. I bid you good morning." Severus got up from his chair, turned out the lights, and began heading back into the headmaster's quarters.

In response, Albus chuckled heartily.

…

Draco shot out of bed as he heard a loud knock on his door. Ever since the Dark Lord had taken over the school through Professor Snape and the Carrows, he had become a light sleeper. One never knew the extent of the screams that would carry through the night as one of the Carrows—or even Professor Snape himself—would dole out a punishment to a rule-breaker. It was usually one of those wretched Dumbledore's Army members. Not the older ones, for they were smart enough to keep their mouths shut, but the younger ones who didn't know the difference between a foolish prank and an invitation for death.

Throwing his bedsheets off of himself, Draco sauntered over to the door, wondering who would be up so late at night, as he rubbed his eyes. He made sure to grab his bathrobe before doing so. Opening the door, he felt mildly disgusted at the appearance of Amycus Carrow, who was looking as imbecilic as ever.

"Look who we have here, disheveled and disgusting," said Amycus snidely. "Precious Lucius Malfoy's son." He chuckled at his own jibe.

"What do you want, Carrow?" asked Draco. Just because they were on the same side didn't mean he had to like the man.

"The headmaster's sent for you," Carrow answered blandly, making Draco perk up with excitement upon realizing that Professor Snape had followed through with the promise he had made that morning. "I suggest you don't keep him waiting, Malfoy, seeing as your esteemed father isn't here to protect you."

Carrow's order, however relieving it was, made Draco furious. How dare that half-wit speak to him that way? It wasn't his right. And to insult his father the way he did just now? Draco had half a mind to Crucio the man and give him a taste of his inner pain. However, it wouldn't be good for him to get on the Dark Lord's bad side, so Draco decided to use words instead.

"I suggest, Carrow," hissed the war-hardened boy, "that you show some respect when talking to your superior."

Unfortunately, Carrow didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he moved over and led Draco along the dark hallway. It was silent save for the two sets of footsteps that trotted along. The mere lack of sound made Draco shiver. It reminded him of how grave the consequences would be if his thoughts of fear for his family became known to the outside world.

It took much longer than it had in the morning to get to Professor Snape's office, and when Carrow and Draco arrived, the older man stood by as the boy knocked.

This time, the response was swift. In the blink of an eye, Draco found himself back in the same guest chair he'd sat in this morning with the door closed and Professor Snape sitting in front of him. However, instead of the professor's groggy expression, it was replaced with a determined gaze that showed just how Slytherin he really was.

"This morning, you came to me, wanting a way to protect your family against the Dark Lord," Professor Snape began, getting right to the point. "Am I correct in assuming so?"

Draco felt the saliva build up in his throat at his professor's words and gulped.

"Yes, sir."

"Then I imagine that you are willing to do anything—and I mean anything—to ensure your family's safety. Am I correct in this, as well?"

Draco didn't answer right away. He knew exactly what Professor Snape was insinuating, and he didn't like it at all. But, as a Slytherin, he knew he had to be willing to do anything to protect his family. Draco's father always loved to remind his son that an enemy of an enemy was always a friend, and the boy knew all too well of his own deep hatred for the Dark Lord for reducing his mother to a whimpering, bedraggled mess.

With that thought in mind, Draco gave his answer.

"Yes, Professor. I think I would."

In response, Professor Snape gave Draco an odd smile. The expression on his face looked to be one of relief.

"Trust in your gut," he said, and Draco had the feeling this small piece of advice would mean a great deal in the coming moments. "What's your gut telling you?"

Again, Draco had to think. His gut screamed at him to tell Professor Snape exactly what he thought of him. Surprisingly, a deep part of himself didn't care all too much if said professor was working for Dumbledore's people in the end. If joining the enemy meant his parents' safety, to hell with the Dark Lord's cause. Draco didn't follow anyone who decided it was perfectly all right to humiliate his family for personal gain. Nobody hurt the Malfoys and got away with it.

Breathing deeply, Draco smoothed out his robe and looked Professor Snape dead in the eye. The professor was right.

He needed to trust his gut.

"I think you're a traitor, Professor," revealed the young Slytherin, his voice deathly quiet. The gut feeling intensified within Draco as he continued, "I think…you're working for them."

There wasn't a single indicator on Professor Snape's face that suggested Draco was right in his claim. It was this lack of expression that made the blond boy begin to shake in his seat.

Oh, Merlin, I'm going to die, aren't I? No, he said to trust my gut…

"I must say, Draco…you are very clever," said the older man, looking mildly impressed. "How did you find out?"

"I didn't need to, Professor," said Draco honestly. He felt slightly betrayed because this meant that Professor Snape had been working against him this entire time, but a bigger part of him felt deeply relieved that he wouldn't die by his favorite professor's hand after all. "Ever since you told me you had taken the Unbreakable Vow for me last year…I supposed that you had some ulterior motive for impeding my efforts to murder Dumbledore."

"Fair enough," Professor Snape replied, clasping his hands. "Now, I ask, what will you do with this information? Will you run and tattle, or will you hear what I have to say?"

Without a second thought, Draco replied, "I'll stay here, sir."

This time, Professor Snape's smile was genuine. It made Draco's heart swell with pride. He had always had an underlying desire to truly impress his favorite teacher. Now, he realized with a contented smile of his own, he had.

"Very well. It is true that I am working against the Dark Lord. Because of this, joining the Light will ensure that your family gets the protection they need—"

"Because you're the key to the Dark Lord's demise."

For a moment, Professor Snape was thrown off-guard. However, he composed himself and said, "Exactly. I am the key." He then took a second to check the clock on his desk. It was the only thing that seemed to remain of Dumbledore's stupid trinkets. "Go back and sleep. We will meet again tomorrow to talk more."

At that moment, Draco realized that this was the right path for him. With Professor Snape by his side, he knew he'd be able to save his family from the Dark Lord's grasp. He didn't care at this point that he'd be on the side of the Light. His parents were the only ones who mattered.

Therefore, it was no surprise when Draco said, "Yes, sir," and walked out of the room with a newfound resolve.

Finally, his parents would be safe. They would all be together soon.