Tw: violence, rape, character death, slight suicide ideation, talk of homophobia & suicide

The rape is just after Remus and Snape's conversation (starting: Draco unbolts the door...) if anyone wants to skip. Warning that it's a bit more graphic than last time (in chap 13).

Also warning that there's a Slughorn's POV in the first scene which includes his desires and feelings about Draco containing mentions of violence, rape, sexual abuse, grooming, suicide, and homophobia.

[Friday 3rd October]

The bell for last period rings.

"Draco?" says Snape.

Draco's head lifts as Snape gets up from his desk. He's been half asleep slumped on his desk for several hours now.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to have a look around Professor Slughorn's bedroom now," says Snape. "He's teaching your class currently, so he won't be around there."

"Why?" asks Draco.

"I'm going to look for the Marauder's map and the key to your room."

"Can I come?"

Snape gives Draco a long look. He doesn't want to risk Slughorn coming back to his room for whatever reason and finding Draco.

"I won't get in the way," he says.

"I know, I just don't want to risk him coming in while we're there," says Snape. "I don't care about him finding me but if he sees you there..."

"He won't," Draco says. "He never leaves the classroom while he's teaching."

Snape watches him wait eagerly for permission or denial.

"Fine," he eventually sighs. "You can come."

Snape and Draco walk silently down to where Slughorn's bedroom is located near the labs in the east wing of Hogwarts. They approach the door after a five-minute walk.

"Are you sure you want to come in?" Snape asks, pausing with his hand on the door handle.

"I'm sure," says Draco.

Snape pushes open the door, revealing a dingy corridor leading to two doors at the end on either side. There are no paintings or pictures on the walls and no furniture in the corridor. The dull grey carpet is worn down to almost a thread and the only source of lighting comes from the main corridor behind them. Once Draco closes the door behind him, they are left in pitch black.

"Lumos," says Snape, holding out his wand to illuminate the dim hallway. At the end of the corridor, the two empty door frames lead into two rooms: one with a double bed in the middle and the other with a desk and solitary chair. The rooms are in the centre of the school and therefore windowless making the place feel even more claustrophobic.

"I'll look in this room," says Snape, heading off into the room with a desk.

Draco stands in the darkened hallway. It smells of Slughorn, and the putrid combination of body odour and chlorine clings to the walls.

Snape spots the map immediately. It's spread out on the desk, tilted and folded to a specific place. As he holds his wand up to the creased pages, fear shoots through him; it's positioned exactly on Snape's classroom. Slughorn must have been watching them, spying on them, for days. He quickly unfolds it fully before Draco has the chance to see it.

With the whole map spread across the desk, Snape forgets about the circumstances that brought him here. He stares in awe at the plan of Hogwarts created by his ex-schoolmates.

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP

While at school, he heard them talking about and planning it and even caught glimpses of it taunted by James and Sirius, but he never got a chance to have a thorough examination of it.

It's a work of pure genius and innovation, Snape thinks as he scans over the thick page. The detail is remarkable, all the classrooms and corridors and dormitories draw in a near-perfect ratio to the rest of the school.

No footsteps appear, however Snape knows how to fix that. Their genius aside, James and Sirius in particular weren't exactly subtle if you were paying attention.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he mutters. Suddenly, the map transforms. Snape watches in amazement as dark red footsteps begin to appear all across the school.

He holds his wand up to one of them, a group of footsteps bunched in Slughorn's classroom. Sure enough, Horace forms in a maroon-spiralling font, then Harry, Pansy, Hermione, Millicent, Goyle, Seamus, Padma, Dean, and all the other students in his class.

To accomplish such a feat of engineering for a group of teenagers is remarkable, however much it was used to torment him.

"This is the map he showed you?" Snape asks as he notices Draco eyeing it from the doorway.

"Yes," says Draco, tapping his fingers together anxiously. "What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know," Snape says.

"He'd notice straight away if you took it," he points out.

"But he wouldn't know it was us."

"Who else would it be?" Draco says. "He'll come looking for you. And me."

"But if we leave it then he can continue tracking your location. It doesn't solve the problem."

Draco looks away.

"Okay, let's leave it for now," Snape says, gathering his uneasiness with the plan. "But at some point I've got to get a hold of it for good."

Draco reluctantly nods.

Snape carefully folds the map back up to make sure it looks like it was never moved. "Mischief managed," he murmurs. The footsteps and the names vanish. "Let's have a look for that key."

"I'll check the other room," says Draco. He gets out his wand and casts the 'lumos' spell for extra light while Snape starts going through the desk drawers.

Slughorn's bedroom is chillingly plain. Just like the hallway, there are no decorations, no keepsakes, no personalisations. The only piece of furniture in the room is the double bed in the middle and a clothes rack in the corner. Slughorn has taught at Hogwarts for decades, yet it would be hard to distinguish his room from one of the guest rooms.

The room is smaller than Draco's bedroom, but the lack of any decor makes it seem much larger. Nothing is offensive in itself: it's more the lack of anything that is disturbing. No books, no furniture, no clothes lying around, no bits and pieces, nothing on the wall, no window or curtains, no empty glasses or mugs. It doesn't seem clean or well managed, either; it just seems dead.

There's nowhere to look except under the bed or behind the clothes rack, so Draco bends down to look under the bed. To his surprise, he sees a book pushed into the darkest corner. He lies on his stomach to retrieve it. It's a hefty A4 diary with a beaten-around-looking grey leather cover. Out of curiosity, Draco flicks to the first page.

20th December 1996.

This day marks the beginning of a new era. Finally, I could begin to pursue my path towards having my true excellence acknowledged. I did not know if I could effectively execute my plan at this point. Draco's family is of high esteem and the boy displays (annoyingly entitled) courage so I was not sure if I could successfully win him over. I will talk to him after Christmas.

10th January 1997.

First interaction with Draco. He was begging me not to hurt that Ron Weasely- this could be useful later. I am confident that he will bend to my next suggestion. If not, I am prepared to persuade him by whatever means necessary.

Chills run down Draco's spine. Slughorn has been keeping a diary. He flicks forward to a random point, not wishing to relive the time Slughorn confronted him about Ron. He feels nauseous. Has he recorded the entire thing?

27th March 1997.

Draco is a disgraceful child. I am surprised he didn't meet his maker today with the way he was speaking to me, pretending he was going to kill himself in front of me. To give him credit, that was the only time he has taken me by surprise. I was scared he was going to do it and leave me with the mess to clean up. But no, it was performative. If he hadn't been holding a wand to his head, I would have cut his dramatic speech off with a well-deserved slap.

I made sure something like that does not happen again. Today should teach him a valuable lesson.

Stamping down and hearing the crunch of his ribs while he lay motionless was the best release I've experienced for a long time. I thought I had killed him, but apparently not. I wish I didn't need him so I could smash apart his disgusting faggot brain with no consequence. I hope he notes my lenience considering the way he spoke to me.

Note for later: today was entertaining but impractical; the boy is pretty useless lying in the San for weeks. Do not repeat.

It goes on and on and Draco starts to fully realise how little this was about Voldemort. Slughorn doesn't want political power; he wants power over Draco. He can't stop reading, a numbness freezing his heart.

I should have raped him again in his hospital bed when he was lying defenceless to teach him a proper lesson. I am rather pleased with how it turned out- he could barely move and that made the struggle significantly easier. Disappointing that he was not able to pleasure me, but I returned the favour. He's beautiful when he cries, and it was music to my ears hearing him beg me to stop when he could not physically move.

I seem to have found the best method for getting him to fulfil my commands. He always works better once I've came in his mouth several times and threatened to kill that faggot Weasely boy. See how motivated he was after I forced myself inside him for the first time last month; I got promoted immediately.

I would do that every week every day, if I could but I am afraid Draco's feeble little mind wouldn't be able to handle it. The last thing I want is to lose my position with Voldemort now I have almost reached my true potential. Killing himself would be so typically self-centred of Draco. I don't think he realises that his life is worthless and his only purpose is to serve me.

He flicks forward with trembling fingers for some answers about the recent month, and to see why he's been acting so differently. The words don't fully sink in yet. How can they? How can he read any of this and register that it's about him?

September 5th 1997.

On the first day back of school I assured Draco that I wasn't becoming too lenient. I'm ready to begin my plan [see August 2nd]. He will never find out the truth, however much I taunt it in front of his face. People give him too much credit: it's laughable how stupid he is.

There is not much left he can do for me regarding Voldemort, but it would be a shame to give him up that easily. At least I know with him I have a reliable way to feel satisfied. No one will ever understand how much joy I get from seeing Draco deteriorate in front of me. How overwhelmingly good it felt to rape him and see him flinch every time I looked at him for weeks after that.

These last eight months have been heaven. I look at him and I see the being that I have singlehandedly destroyed. That feeling of knowing it is ME who has ruined his life must be the happiness everyone talks about.

I have made the decision not to give him up, because why would I? Without me, he is nothing. He is a waste of a life. At least now he's being put to good use for someone. Knowing I have done this to him, knowing that I will shape his life for years ahead of him makes me think that there is something worth living for. I love hurting him and I can never let go of that.

School ending next July is not ideal [mark next as note] but his parents adore me. Plan to increase talks with Lucius until he trusts me enough to be alone with Draco for extended periods of time. Godfather? [NOTE: Do NOT lose contact with the Malfoys.] I will let him go over my dead body.

I chuckled while writing that because Draco is my final project, and I mean that in the literal sense. He gets free of me and I end it, but I do not have to worry about that because he does not possess the power get free of me. The day I give him the satisfaction of freedom is the day I die.

Draco feels a sudden urge to vomit. Slughorn isn't going to let him go when school ends. It makes him feel ill that he is Slughorn's life. If he 'gets free' of him, whatever that means, Slughorn would kill himself. He's only living to hurt Draco. Draco doesn't know how to feel about that.

He flicks forward again, horribly captivated by every word, willing it to stop.

September 28th 1997

Last night was incredible; I think I have broken him. It's like he wants me to force my dick down his throat- he was asking for it, and not in his usual sit there and wait for it to happen way. He actually asked what he could do for a good grade, I mean really. I knew he wanted it underneath this sad little front he has been putting on for the last few months. I didn't take the chance. It would be boring if he wanted it- the best part is hearing him begging me to stop.

"Did you find anything?" Snape asks, coming into the room empty-handed. There wasn't much to search through, and he found nothing of any significance. When he enters the bedroom, he feels the same coldness as Draco felt pressing down on him. The room screams of a man who cares for nothing and has no one.

Draco is standing in the corner, unmoving, with his head craned down.

"Yes," says Draco. He pauses, then turns around, holding open a battered book with a deeply disturbed expression on his face.

"What's that?"

Draco hands it to him. "His diary," he says emptily.

"What on earth-?" Snape exclaims as he flicks through the pages. Every single day is noted down, starting from December 20th 1996.

He frowns as he flicks through the endless pages.

Horrifically graphic depictions of the deepest disturbed thoughts surrounding various events fill every page, to the point where Snape feels like he's invading Draco's privacy by simply reading it. He picks up on his distorted grip on reality and sick desire to harm by glancing at a few sentences. He snaps the book closed. "What the fuck is wrong with him?"

Draco flinches, the one of the few times hearing Snape swear like that. He doesn't open his mouth, too dazed to form coherent sentences.

"Come on," Snape says. "Let's go. I never should've brought you along, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to see that."

"It's okay," Draco murmurs numbly, following Snape out. The floating feeling returns, and the reality of his world seems to crack.

Snape leads him back to his classroom, unable to look at Draco out of shame. All the responsibility falls on him; he never should've let Draco come. Why would Slughorn choose to recall the events? Did he re-read through them when bored? Did he enjoy remembering the pain he's inflicted on this boy?

Draco phases out all surroundings. He goes straight to the archives room and curls up in the corner, re-reading the stained paper through closed eyes.

No one understands how much joy I get from seeing Draco deteriorate in front of me. Faggot Weasely boy. Godfather? Without me, he is nothing. He is a waste of a life. NOTE. Purpose is to serve me. I will let him go over my dead body. Force my dick down his throat. The best part is hearing him begging me to stop. Sad little front. Do NOT lose contact with the Malfoys. Disgraceful child. It is ME who has ruined his life.

He doesn't know what to think or how to react. He can't even muster up the energy to cry. Slughorn will never let him go.

Snape makes him sit with him during dinner as they eat vegetable soup, just about the only thing Draco can stomach, which Snape 'borrowed' from the kitchens. They make very little conversation, and it ends up with Snape telling Draco about his lesson plans for next week.

A few hours later, Snape has exhausted explaining his entire school schedule and lesson plans for the following week to Draco, and Draco has grown tired of nodding and making agreeing noises every minute or so. Yet he doesn't want to retreat to the archives room alone, and Snape doesn't suggest that he should do so.

Just before midnight, Snape tears open a letter left on his desk. It's been lying there since lunchtime, and he only opens it out of boredom as it looks extremely inconsequential.

To Severus.

Please meet me any time possible today after 19:00. It is important.

- Remus.

3/10/97

Snape rips the letter up after glancing through it once. He's too tired to notice the inconsistencies in the font or to question why Remus sent a letter when they have never previously communicated this way.

"I need to talk to someone," Snape says, abruptly standing up. "I shouldn't be more than half an hour."

"Okay," says Draco hesitantly, biting his lip. "Who?"

"Professor Lupin," says Snape as he strides towards the door. "Apparently it's important. Bar the door behind you. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Draco swallows the tingling anxiety and does as he's told. Even though he's successfully been avoiding Slughorn since last Sunday, whenever he's left alone the cold sweats and headaches resume.

Snape strides down the hallway to Remus' classroom, where he assumes he'd be waiting. But when he tries the door handle, it's locked. Snape knocks a few times with no response. He begins the walk to Remus' bedroom on the other side of the school. This had better be good.

He arrives seven minutes and three staircases later, once again trying the door. Locked. He knocks sharply, then waits. About a minute goes by. No response, again. He knocks, and after a few seconds, he hears a shuffling behind the door. Remus opens it looking tired and disgruntled.

"Severus?" he says, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "It's past midnight, what are you doing here?"

"I just opened your letter," says Snape, walking in.

"My letter?"

"Yes. I apologise for leaving it so late but I was tied up and I didn't see it until half an hour ago."

"What are you talking about?" Remus says.

Snape gives him a long glare. "You left me a letter on my desk earlier today. Saying you need to speak to me? It says it's important."

Remus looks back blankly. "No, I didn't."

"Someone sent me a letter," Snape says. "From you. It said to meet today any time after seven pm."

"I didn't send that letter," Remus reiterates. Snape stands there for a long moment. He doesn't understand for a second, but when it sinks in, terror instantly hits the pits of his stomach.

Remus watches Snape's mildly miffed expression shift to confusion, then to fear.

"What's going on?" Remus calls, but Snape is already bolting back to his classroom and back to Draco.

Draco unbolts the door in response to the knock, assuming Snape has returned. It's only been five minutes but he doesn't think to question it, simply relieved that he's back. The door swings open to an old man with a thunderous expression on his face: Slughorn.

"There you are," he snarls, barrelling in and slamming the door behind him. Draco scrambles back but Slughorn grabs his shirt with an iron grip and drags Draco to the front desk. He knows there will be no asking of consent tonight; the Slughorn he recognises is back.

"Professor-" he begs.

"Shut the fuck up," he shouts, clobbering his hand across Draco's face. "I know exactly what you've been doing, you fucking coward."

Draco cries out, clutching his face. "I'm sorry," he says, trying to scramble away to curl up into a ball. He feels blood trickle down his face, the punch sending a streak of light-headedness through him. "Please don't hurt me, Professor, please, I'm sorry. I'll be good, I'll do what you want, just-"

"Shut your mouth." Slughorn starts punching him, over and over. "You're pathetic, you know that? You think you're fucking clever hiding away from me here? You think you're better than me?"

He pins him down on the table. "You," he spits, revelling in each second Draco squirms underneath him. "You deserve everything that's coming to you." He holds Draco's arms down with his knees as he starts undoing his belt.

"Please," screams Draco hysterically, realising what he's about to do. "Please, I'm sorry, I'll do anything. Don't, I'm sorry-"

Slughorn grabs fistfuls of his hair, ignoring his mortified sobs of pain. He drives Draco's face onto the table, the blood from his nose smudging all over Snape's work.

This time, Draco doesn't stop struggling. He lets out a bloodcurdling scream when Slughorn enters without warning, muffled by a fabric being held over his mouth. Slughorn mercilessly thrusts himself into Draco again and again, his fury gradually merging into satisfaction.

With the last remaining shred of fight Draco is able to dredge up, he twists around, driving a knee into Slughorn's stomach. This gives him just enough time to roll to the side and grab his wand back from the table behind.

He sees Slughorn in his peripheral vision pouncing towards him, and without thinking turns and screams: "Avarda-kedavra!"

Slughorn's whole body freezes, stunned, then drops to the floor. Blood seeps from his chest out into an expanding puddle around him.

Draco has no time to think. He pulls on some clothes, shaking through panicked sobs. He backs away from Slughorn, gripping his wand, not daring to look away in case he's playing dead or is only passed out. He doesn't dare move a muscle, trembling and paranoid, hunched in the corner of the room, fixated on Slughorn's motionless body.

Snape races back to his classroom, pleading with himself that Slughorn hasn't beaten him to it. Adrenaline rushes to his head as he approaches his classroom door. He tries the handle: it's open.

He dashes in to find Slughorn half-naked sprawled across the floor in a pool of blood and Draco in hysterics across the room, badly beaten.

"Oh my God," he exclaims, rushing over to him. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I never should've left. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?"

Draco flinches and turns the wand on him.

"Get the fuck away from me. Don't come closer. Don't-" he gasps in air, his head spinning.

Snape holds up his hands. "Draco, it's me, it's Professor Snape, look, I'm not going to hurt you."

Accusation darkens Draco's eyes as he finally registers who it is.

"Professor Snape," he whispers, dropping the wand. "Why- why did you let him get me?"

The words just about break Snape's heart.

"I'm so sorry," he says, voice strained. "I never should've left. I'm really sorry, Draco, I didn't think he would- God, I'm so sorry."

"Is he dead?" Draco pleads, wiping away his tears with a shaky hand.

Snape goes over to Slughorn's body tremoring with anger, at his own stupidity as well as at Slughorn. On seeing the amount of blood Slughorn is lying in, he immediately knows that he's dead.

"Yes."

The tension in Draco's body releases and he starts to cry again.

Snape glares down at Slughorn. It was painfully clear what he was in the process of doing. A wave of immense guilt hits him. If only he spent a second longer checking 'Remus'' letter.

"I'm sorry," mutters Draco, barely conscious. A wave of dizziness overcomes him. "I'm sorry I- I made a mistake. I tried to, I was just meant to defend myself but, but, he's dead. What have I done, oh, I'm, I'm gonna be in so much trouble, I, I just wanted it to stop, and he- he hurt, I'm-" Before Snape has a chance to reassure him, he collapses.

Snape rushes over to check he's alright. As he cushions Draco's head, he can see the damage on his fragile body up close: where Slughorn punched and dug his fingernails into his skin, his chapped and dry lips, hickeys all down his neck onto his chest. Should he take him to the San? Snape can't tell if he fainted as a result of shock or due to the injuries.

He's not willing to take the risk.

He dresses Draco back up as much as possible then hoists him up into his arms and starts walking to the San. About ten feet from his classroom, Draco's arms twitch and his eyes slowly open. Snape exhales deeply, gently setting Draco down on his feet. He looks around wildly for a few seconds.

"Thank God you're okay," says Snape, half to himself. "I think you fainted."

"Oh, right," Draco says, looking around in confusion. Last he remembers he was with Slughorn in Snape's classroom.

"Where is he?" asks Draco, eyes widening.

"He's in my classroom," says Snape. "Don't worry, he's dead."

Draco puts his hand in his hands, making a strangled sound. "I've fucking killed him. I've killed him. Oh my God. He's dead. I killed him."

Snape watches him carefully as tears of relief start forming in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" asks Snape. Then, realising the redundancy of the question: "Do you need to go to the San?"

"No, no." He pushes back hair with a tremoring hand. "I've fucked up. Oh my fucking God. I've killed someone."

"Deep breaths, Draco," Snape says. "Come on, you've got blood all over your face. It's okay, everything's going to be okay."

Draco steps forward and almost collapses to the floor again. He clutches at Snape's robes to stop him from falling.

"Shit," he gasps, a burning pain going through his thighs. His legs feel wet, and he can feel something trailing down them. Blood.

"What's the matter?" Snape asks, concerned as Draco tries to stand. "Take my hand."

Draco grabs onto his hands, swallowing as hot flushes of pain wrack through his body. "Sorry, I'm, God, shit." Tears form in his eyes. "It hurts. It really hurts."

Snape's eyes widen and he watches Draco try to mask his pain.

"I'm going to do a healing spell, ok?" he says, getting out his wand. Draco nods quickly, still leaning on Snape for support. Snape mutters the spell under his breath, and the sharp pain in Draco's legs eases to a manageable throbbing. He sighs in relief.

"Is that enough? Do you need anything else?" Snape asks. "I have something stronger upstairs if you need it."

"This is fine," Draco says, taking a few steps forward to prove his point. Snape takes his word for it, frowing as he tries to comprehend the damage Slughorn has done. They slowly walk back to his classroom.

"We're going straight to the bathroom in the corridor behind the classroom, all right?" says Snape, watching Draco carefully.

Draco's eyes don't move from the door. He imagines Slughorn swinging it open: hello, Draco. You fucking coward. You deserve everything that's coming to you.

But as Snape opens the door, Slughorn's body is still there, lying face down exactly how he left it, blood glistening under the classroom lights. They go through to Snape's small living quarters and into the bathroom on the first left.

Snape gently wipes the blood off Draco's face with a wet cloth.

"What's going to happen to me?" Draco whispers.

"Nothing's going to happen," says Snape.

"Aren't you going to tell everyone?"

Snape gives him a sad look. "No, Draco, I'm not."

"I've killed someone though," he continues. "I'm- I mean, I'm just as bad as my father. I'm as bad as Voldemort."

"Draco," says Snape with calm assurance. "It was self-defence. He attacked you, you defended yourself. He brought this on himself. All of this is his fault."

He looks at Draco's distraught face, wiping away the rest of the blood. Some things are better left unsaid, but he can't just ignore this.

"Are you all right?" he says softly.

"Um," Draco says. He lets out a short laugh which comes out more as a strangled sob. "Not really, no."

"Did he..." Snape starts. How to form a tactful and to-the-point sentence escapes him. "Was he, uh. What happened? I, well, you don't have to tell me. But, if you want."

Draco bites a trembling lip, gathering the gist of Snape's half sentences. "He was mad about me hiding away from him," he says shakily. "I tried to, I tried-" he breaks off into sobs, bending over with the weight of everything as he remembers Slughorn hitting him over and over. He clutches himself, doubled over as tears and snot run down his face, coughing until his cheeks are red and his head is pounding. "I just wanted him to stop," he cries into his hands. "I needed to make it stop."

Snape stands there awkwardly, not even attempting to issue a soothing statement. Nothing so simple could ease Draco's distress.

"I just wanted him to stop," Draco repeats, rubbing at his puffy eyes. "I didn't mean to kill him."

"I know, darling," Snape mutters. "I know. But look, he can't do anything to you ever again."

"You said- you said that last time," Draco sniffs, wiping his sleeve across his face. "And you lied. Because, because he got me again."

Snape doesn't know what to say to this, Draco edging away from him. He feels sick. He remembers his promise to Draco that he'd make sure that Slughorn never came near him again, and it's come back to bite him. How can he blame Draco for distrusting him when he was the one to break his trust?

"I didn't know," he says quietly, furious with himself for his faliure. Draco doesn't look any less convinced, but he lets Snape finish wiping his face clean.

"I need to clean up my classroom," he says. "Why don't you wait in here?"

Draco nods. He stares at the shower rail as Snape leaves and wishes he had his black belt with him. Slughorn is right; he is a coward. He'd take the easy way out every time.

Snape returns to the classroom with an old mop from the supplies cupboard. He focuses his thoughts on the practical side of things rather than the harder to navigate feelings of guilt and regret and anger and pity.

His gut instinct tells him to be relieved about Slughorn's death. Despite this, he knows Slughorn has been held in increasingly high esteem within the Dark Forces, and Snape fears his death, if found to be a murder, could snap the already thick tension between the two sides.

He dresses Slughorn back up fully then begins mopping up the blood.

After a few minutes, the floor is completely clean. He shoves the bloody mop drenched in dark red water back into the cupboard and locks it.

Draco wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, as Snape comes back.

"I think I've got a plan," says Snape. "No one needs to find out about this."

"Really?" Draco swallows, pacing around the windowless room. "You aren't going to tell anyone the truth?"

"No, I'm not," Snape assures him. "Now listen and tell me what you think."

Draco nods.

"We're going to stage a suicide from the Astronomy tower. We throw him off it, he falls, and it looks like suicide. I'll tell the Dark Lord that I'm going to personally investigate it, and then a week later I can feedback by saying everything seems in order. All you need to do is say that he seemed a bit distracted over the last few days if anyone asks you any questions."

He pauses and gives Draco a minute to process the plan.

"It's the best plan I can think of," he says. "They need a body because if the Dark Lord finds out that Slughorn's gone missing, he's going to pin it on Umbridge and Potter and all of them, then the war could really get out of hand."

"Okay," Draco says hesitantly. "This could work."

"Great," says Snape. "We have to do it now when everyone's asleep. Or I can do it, if you're not up to it."

"It's fine. You can't pull him up the stairs alone."

"Are you sure? Do your legs still hurt?"

"No, they're fine."

"Okay, wait here a minute." He picks up Slughorn's jacket thrown on a nearby table and goes to the doorway where his body lies.

Snape gazes down at Slughorn's body. He doesn't manage to muster up a single thought of sympathy for this man. He only feels hatred for the monster who's taken pleasure from ruining the life of the closest thing he'll get to a son. He pulls on the jacket roughly and takes a towel to wipe off any excess blood.

With great effort, Snape drags Slughorn by the arms into the main classroom. To his annoyance, it still leaves a detectable smearing of blood.

Draco freezes when he sees him, replaying him on top of him, punching him, touching him, raping him.

"I can bring him up no problem," says Snape, seeing Draco's frozen features.

He steadies himself with a deep breath.

"I can do it."

"I think it'll be easiest just to hold him over our arms."

He mirrors Snape's action of putting an arm each over shoulder then pulling him up. Draco shudders as Slughorn's lifeless hand lolls onto his shoulder. He reminds himself that Slughorn is dead, repeating it to himself over and over. He can't hurt him anymore.

They drag the body from Snape's classroom to the bottom of the Astronomy tower stairs, pausing for a break. Luckily, they meet no one on the way. They wait in silence, exhausted by the physical demand of hauling a 90kg man across the school. After a few minutes, they start the gruelling stairs up the tower itself.

A bitter wind whistles through the Astronomy tower as they approach the top. Draco has tried to avoid this place since Dumbledore's death, which was easy to do since it's completely removed from the rest of the school.

They dump the body at the top platform. "How are we going to do this?" Snape mutters to himself, going over to the railing. Draco sits down, panting from the exertion, his legs screaming for a rest. He eyes Slughorn's body warily.

Snape comes back, wrapping his hands around his ankles and hauling him to the railing. Draco doesn't speak, or go to help, or insist that he must do this. He watches Snape slide the body through the railing and kick it over the edge. They don't hear the impact of Slughorn hitting the gravel of the courtyard.

He turns to Draco, the reality setting in for both of them. "There," says Snape. "He's gone."

Draco gazes to the fatal drop. "He's gone," he echos emptily.

"You're safe."

Tears begin rolling down Draco's face. He doesn't flinch as Snape wraps his arms around him, and they stand connected in solidarity, and, finally, in trust.

"I'm sorry," says Snape, so quietly that Draco wonders if it was just the wind.