A/N: Well, I don't have much to say, so let's just crack on with the story, shall we?

*****

WINTER EYES, WINTER HEART

Chapter 3

Draco went to see Snape the next morning, after breakfast. The professor was teaching a class, but immediately called in Flitwick by Floo to sit with them when he caught sight of Draco in his doorway. Evidently the fear of Draco's father extended down to Draco himself, in spite of the fact that Draco hated Lucius.

Snape was looking quite the worse for wear that morning. He had a small bandage on his wrist, and various plasters covered the few patches of skin that were visible. Draco's father had certainly done the job thoroughly.

Snape took Draco into his office and through a hidden door behind a painting, which Draco realised rather quickly led to Snape's rooms.

'I'm sorry to take you here, Draco, but I do not want anybody to hear us.'

Strange, he shuns the idea of sex … except with him …

One nod from the boy certified that he understood, and he strode after Snape, his body remembering the lessons his father had given him … serpentine, beautiful … perfect.

Snape's rooms were large but sparsely furnished. There were tapestries all around the room, presumably to keep in the warmth, and only a four-poster bed, a mahogany wardrobe, table and chairs, and, down one wall, a huge bookshelf.

Draco took one look around and nodded. This suited Snape. It was exactly the sort of room Draco had expected him to occupy. 'That's all right, I don't expect you to do anything to me …' He managed a small smile. 'Professor, why weren't you at breakfast today?'

Snape looked at him, searching his face. 'I am assuming Harry related our conversation of yesterday evening to you.'

'Yes.'

'I'm sure you can understand that I didn't want to see your father. Has he left, by the way?'

Draco shook his head. 'He's trying to convince Dumbledore to let him stay. He's defying Harry … I really wouldn't do that if I were him.' He shuddered slightly.

'Nor would I. Harry doesn't think he's all that powerful, but I believe he can be quite formidable at times.'

'Yes. So … you were hiding from my father, then?'

'I was. In Dumbledore's office. It's the only place Lucius can't force his way into … Harry's not the only one who's formidable at times.'

Draco watched Snape curiously. The professor almost seemed to be proud of his former partner's power. The same power that could, last night, have had him killed. Snape's eyes almost seemed to glow as they spoke of Lucius – partly with anger and fear, but also with something else, something … softer.'

'Anyway … I understand that you do not want me to … destroy my father. At the final battle.' Suddenly Draco's Malfoy qualities were gone, and he could no longer speak smoothly and charm with it. He felt a peculiar need to distance himself from his father, since it was his life they were discussing … what a terrible place the world has come to when a simple conversation can determine whether a human being is to live or die. Die. In death. I have my father's eyes … perhaps I'm more like him than I thought, the same winter eyes … but do I have a winter heart? Bullshit. He hoped.

'Have you ever killed anyone, Draco?'

Draco flinched. This was a weak spot for him – his father would be the first person he had ever murdered, if it turned out that way. He knew he couldn't feel proud of it.

'Well … it isn't a pleasant experience, despite how much you may hate the person, and contrary to what anyone may tell you, it is not an achievement. I think you don't want to be burdened with the guilt of taking someone's life essence from them … even if the victim is wholly evil.'

'If my father is wholly evil,' Draco snapped, 'then why don't you want me to kill him?'

'Because … because …' Snape looked away, flushing slightly. 'Because I still love him.'

'Even though he did that to you?' Draco pointed at Snape's battered body.

'Don't ask me to explain it, Draco. All I know is … I don't think I can live without him. We were partners once. In a way, we still are; the bond between Snapes and Malfoys cannot be broken. Just one person came between us. That's the reason I'm here, wasting my life trapped in a castle.'

'This girl you fell in love with? Harry mentioned her. You didn't tell him who it was.'

'I don't plan to, Draco. I don't think Harry would like it, somehow.'

Harry … what wouldn't he like? He's a Gryffindor, a knight. Insults to his friends? Family? Family … family … Lily Evans. 'Ohhhh,' Draco said softly. 'It was his mother.'

Snape nodded. 'She was amazing at school,' he said with a regretful smile. 'I think she could have charmed Dumbledore into allying with Voldemort. If she'd been so inclined. Anyway … I think you know the rest of they story. Am I to trust you to spare Lucius? Or will we see blood at the final battle?'

Draco considered. He supposed that, although a little more twisted, Snape's love for Lucius was nothing different to his own for Harry. Under the romance of the boys' relationship lay a desperate need to be held and wanted, a need for affection in the lonely world they inhabited. For Snape, the need would be strong and raw, without the softening romance, and he would bear so much more anguish.

'All right,' Draco said slowly. 'I won't kill him, for now. But it depends what he does. If he hurts you, or Harry, then he's as good as dead. I don't care what you say, I'm not going to let that piece of filth kill someone I hold dear.'

Snape snorted. 'Hold dear? Then you can leave me out of it. I don't think I'm "held dear" by anybody, quite frankly.'

'You are by me. And Dumbledore,' Draco replied quietly. Then he added: 'And Harry.'

Snape blushed, his sallow skin surprisingly attractive when the cold mask did not drink his blood. His dark eyes were confused but determined, and Draco felt something stir between his legs. Don't be stupid, Draco. You can't do that. You're Harry's. Snape belongs to your father, even if you don't like it. Besides, he's far too old for you.

'I think that's all,' he announced curtly. 'Until this afternoon's lesson, then.' He did not even wait for Snape's answer or nod, instead turning and striding from the room. He was forced, of course, to go back through the potions laboratory, and kept his head down as he wove through the riotous third-years.

Oh, if Flitwick could control a class.

*****

When Harry found out that Lucius was still in Hogwarts, and trying to persuade Dumbledore to let him stay, he went straight to find the Death Eater. MacGonagall informed him, with a very curled lip, that His Majesty was in the staff room, insulting the staff.

Harry passed Madam Hooch on his way there, walking with her nose held high and a sour expression. 'Lucius Malfoy?' he commented, and then remembered he wasn't God (what a joke), and added: 'Professor?'

'That – man!' exclaimed Madam Hooch indignantly. 'He's acting like he owns the damn school, Harry. Dumbledore said you were going to throw him out, why is he still here?'

'That's what I'm going to ask him right now,' Harry replied grimly. He left the teacher, and walked a little faster toward the staff room. Things were getting out of hand – Lucius could not be permitted to act like this. Especially after he was supposed to have left.

Harry found that despite his slight apprehensions, he in fact had no trouble in storming straight into the staff room. Professor Vector was reading, having obviously chosen a seat as far away from Lucius as possible, and was occasionally casting anxious glances at him under her dark eyelashes.

She was frightened. Like everyone else in the school – and this time without the exception of Dumbledore – she was afraid of Lucius Malfoy. And this only angered Harry further.

'Lucius!' he yelled.

Lucius started, appearing to have only just noticed Harry. 'You're not supposed to be in here,' he remarked with the smug satisfaction of a five-year-old.

'Neither,' Harry replied coolly, 'are you.' He looked at Vector meaningfully, and she took the hint and left the room with a grateful smile.

'I decided to stay for a few days longer, Harry.'

As if it was his choice! 'I'm afraid, Lucius, that we're cutting your holiday down to a few more minutes. You are leaving now, whether you like it or not. And leave Snape and Draco alone. I'm not afraid of a simple Avada Kedavra, you know.'

'Rather you than -' Lucius cut himself off sharply, and bit his lip.

'Rather me than Draco?' Harry asked with false sympathy.

Suddenly Lucius looked slightly less sure of himself. 'What do you mean?'

'You don't like the idea, do you?' Would anyone like the idea of dying? By his own son's hand? What a joke. 'You're scared of Draco killing me.'

'I've never done anything to him,' Lucius said hotly, half rising out of his armchair. 'I raised him as a Slytherin son. The same way most Slytherin parents raise their children.'

'You didn't give him any choice. You would have forced him to join Voldemort. No wonder he's rebelled; he doesn't want to serve the Dark Lord. He's never coming home, you know. Not now.'

Lucius regarded Harry, and the sadness in his face was genuine. 'I've lost my son,' he whispered.

'Very good, Lucius. Your own fault, of course.' Harry smirked. 'See you at the final battle.' He turned to leave, his eyes like steel globes in their sockets. Had they ever been so unrelenting? He had just deprived Lucius of the most important thing in his life, hadn't he? Snape … Hadn't he?

'Oh, and Harry?' Lucius' voice was taunting and strong again, and Harry reverted to his alert, stony-eyed state. 'About the final battle. We know we're going to lose. We've known for years. Now, it's just a question of who we take down with us.' His winter eyes were suddenly sincere, alight with anticipation of the massive dispute yet to come. 'Expect us on the last day of term, Harry. We will come for you.'

He would have made an interesting Gryffindor.

'You have five minutes to get out, Lucius.'

*****

The Boy Who Lived spent his Transfiguration lesson thinking very carefully about what had just happened. It had been a strange meeting. Lucius had just told him straight out when the final battle would be, and this confused Harry. Why would he have revealed Voldemort's most closely guarded secret, deliberately? There seemed no rhyme or reason for it, no hidden bribe or deceit that Harry could fathom. What if they came earlier? Hogwarts had been ready for them for months. And Lucius' visit must have confirmed that they knew that.

Perhaps he had let it out accidentally? But Harry dismissed this thought immediately, shook his head and drew McGonagall's attention.

'Harry, stop fidgeting.' Her voice was straining to be hard, to be stern, but Harry could hear the weakness, in the way she said 'Harry' rather than 'Potter,' in the slight softness of her voice. They had a common enemy now, Voldemort, Malfoy and the Slytherin serpents. And this included Snape. With a weakness for Lucius, could he be depended on to hold true to Hogwarts and its cause?

That was a problem. Harry's mind started to spin onto 'What ifs,' what if he betrays us, what if it comes to crunch time and he lets them go? What if he turns? What if he has mercy on Lucius and gets killed by one of them?

Was Snape capable of doing that? Harry thought again of the resolute but troubled Potions Master, so many conflicting loyalties, and the tendency still ingrained in him to seduce and destroy. He was perfectly capable of tricking Hogwarts if the intention overpowered him. Those eyes hid more than they spoke of.

The last day of term … that was only days away. Three days. Lessons were drifting into half-hearted vague discussions, homework was slowly dissolving. Soon the seventh-years would be free. Out of the school, alone and independent to do their own bidding within the world of wizardry. Harry's heart leapt at the thought of this as much as it sank, and consequently remained fairly still. He would not be able to see Draco any more. There was no way they could meet, assuming the final battle, despite its name, came to the conclusion of the inevitable stalemate.

We know we're going to lose … Lucius' words.

Perhaps this really was it.

*****

Harry realised on his way to Dumbledore's office that his visit was shamefully overdue. He had met with Lucius more than two hours ago now, and still the Order of the Phoenix did not know the day of the battle. Three days. Seventy-two hours. Less. Harry, what were you thinking?

The Headmaster seemed suspiciously to have been waiting for him. Suddenly wary, Harry's face shifted into a half-smile, and back again. He knew everything. Probably about Draco and him, probably about Snape, about … well, everything.

Dumbledore greeted him genially, but Harry could tell that he was waiting for him to give.

'We don't have much time, Harry. Am I right?'

'They're coming on Friday, sir. That's three days. Are we ready?'

'Are you?'

Harry frowned ostentatiously. 'Sir?'

'We're ready only if you are. Are you ready to destroy, Harry? You're the Boy Who Lived; you can't escape. You will be expected to kill, to take away lives. To use the killing curse. To be ready to sacrifice those you love …'

Of course he knew.

'Are you ready for this, Harry?'

'I …' Harry stopped. Once more, everything that Dumbledore had said was true. This would be the first time he had killed anyone. He might lose people. The students would be evacuated, except Draco, and Snape would be there. So would all his other teachers. Harry could not name a single name of a person whose soul he would not weep over. He loved them all. And he loved his school, in danger of being completely destructed through the evil of war. Voldemort wanted rid of Hogwarts; it was the source of the resistance against him.

Was he ready for it?

'Sir,' he said quietly, 'you're asking me to be ready to lose everything I love, to be ready to be left with nothing. I do not believe a single person on earth could be ready for that.'

'I know,' Dumbledore replied. 'But you have acknowledged the danger, and you are determined to take steps to prevent it. This is more ready than many of us are – living in fear, hiding from the worry, running from the possibility that we might …'

'Betray everything we thought we cared for?'

The Headmaster smiled. 'You too have considered it. Have you spoken to the relevant man?'

'I'd only offend him, sir. I don't dare.' Harry lowered his head in defeat. There was no option of trying to talk Snape out of it: he simply had not the courage.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. 'Perhaps,' he suggested with false gentleness and underlying warning, 'I was wrong. You seem not to be frightened enough – at least, not enough to forfeit your security to save our lives. I suggest you think very hard about that, Harry – and very fast.'

Harry regarded him, but somehow the ancient wizard was giving off a finished scent, a vibration of conclusion. He had ended.

Without another word, the Boy Who Lived rose and began the long walk from the tower down to the dungeons.

*****

A/N: Yes, its slightly timeliney, but the necessary events have taken place. The next chapter should be the final battle – it's going to turn out a shorter story than I had intended. Only four chapters. Sigh. Well, more time to work on my original slash story, I suppose. Please review! There are still some loose ends that could depend on public opinion, so your vote really DOES count!