A/N: This would have been up much sooner, but I've been experiencing major problems with ff.net

Disclaimer: It all belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling.

Still don't have a beta, and I make so many typos it's cringeworthy. Sorry.

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Sacrifices

Part Twelve - Contemplation

When Severus Snape left Goyle's quarters, he was in quite a bad mood. He didn't know what to do with the information he had been given. On one hand, he held his suspicions. Yet there were dangerous consequences should those suspicions turn out to be true. He wanted to grasp onto the thin chance that perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps all could be explained afterall. Perhaps everything was ok. But he knew it wasn't. He wanted to believe that he might be jumping to conclusions with very little evidence, but it simply wasn't true. It all fitted together to apiant a picture that he didn't want to believe. Didn't want to, but did nevertheless.

When he had entered Goyle's quarters the boy had indeed been asleep, and Snape had indeed woken him with very little mercy. He had asked him about Malfoy's arm, and at first the boy didn't know what he was talking about. Eventually, though, Snape had gotten from him that Draco had a bruised arm, and he mentioned something about getting it from bumping into a wall in the middle of the night. Rediculous, considering the fact that Malfoy had told Snape a different story when he was questioned about it. Snape had hounded Goyle for more information, but unfortunately the boy proved yet again that he was indeed as dumb as he looked, and so Snape left him to go back to bed. And now here was striding down the corridors yet again, wondering what to do with the information he had been given. and the consequences of that.

Snape, not for the first time that night, began to wish that he had never taken such an interest in Malfoy's problem. He wished that he hadn't noticed Malfoy outside the door that day, wished he hadn't tried to find out what was really the matter, and wished more than anything that he hadn't decided to show the class how to brew that bloody Revelio Potion. Because it all started from there, really. All the mess, all the trouble. If he hadn't decided to use that potion on that particular day, then none of this would have occured. He would have remained blissfully unaware of Malfoy's troubles.

Of course he knew underneath all this that is was rather fortunate that he had discovered this. That it would have been much worse for the boy if he hadn't foundout this early. But that was below the surface, below the current contempt and anger. Below the trepidation resulting from the question of what to do now. What would he do? What could he do? First he would have to find out if what he suspected was true. That was the obvious next step, but how, exactly, would be broach that subject? How could he talk to the boy about it? What? Just walk up to the child and say "Hey, how are you today? Nice weather, yeah? Good day for Quidditch. Does your father beat you, by the way?" Rediculous. Idiotic. Dangerous.

Lucius Malfoy was a deatheater. As it was, he considered Snape a valuable ally, and Snape guessed that it was because of this that Severus remained a lot safer as a spy. Lucius was one of the closest of Voldemort's people to Severus himself. As long as Lucius was convinced of Snape's loyalty, Snape was a whole lot safer. What would happen if Snape did something to make Lucius question this loyalty? Like, oh, perhaps meddling in the relationship between he and his son? What deatheater would even blink at a father giving his son an occasional beating? None. Not after witnessing countless deaths, a father 'disciplining' his son would very rarely raise an eyebrow. Unless, of course, he wasn't truly a deatheater. Unless he was a spy. And for that he would pay dearly. With his life. Was it worth it?

What could he do? Risk it all on a suspicion? Stupid. He couldn't talk to the boy. How would he even know where the boy's loyalties lay? Just because a father beats his child still doesn't mean that the child would turn against the father. That's part of the reason why it goes undetected so much of the time. Draco himself had gone completely out of his way to hide it already. Part of it could be shame. Definately. But part of it could also be because the child has been led to believe that it's right. That he deserved it. That it was his fault, and his father was only distributing justice. And the child could, and probably would, still love his father, even if he hated him on the surface. Would probably remain loyal to him rather than some meddling professor, even if it was the head of his house. He would possibly tell his father, and then where would Snape be? In danger once again.

He could tell Dumbledore, but it would amount to the same thing. There would be the question of who told Dumbledore. It would come back to Snape. Who else? Madam Pomfrey? Perhaps. But more likely it would fall to Snape. Afterall, he was the one who had actively tried to seek out th answers. And then the question would rise again. Why would a deatheater, loyal to Voldemort be concerned over so little a thing? And then the answer would be te same. Because he's not loyal. He's a traitor. A spy. And the cycle goes on and on.

What to do? Snape paused. He was tired. Too tired for things like this. It was late. Too late to be thinking about such a serious matter. He needed to sleep on it. Perhaps things would seem clearer in the morning. In any case, it was unlikely that he would come to a conclusion tonight. Even if he did, he certainly couldn't act on it immediately. Yes, it was time for rest. He'd earned it. So with this in mind he retired to his quarters. He fixed himself a sleeping draught to ward off a likely troubled sleep, then climbed into bed. Yet even with the sleeping potion, his sleep was far from easy.

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Y'know it's funny, when I'm really tired, I always wind up making my characters sleep. I was quite lucky to get this out. I was sitting in front of the computer screen, with my mind completely blank, and I was about to shut down the computer and go to bed, but inspiration struck. It's all thoughts and contemplation, I know, but I think I needed it. The last couple of chapters have been too - I don't know - shallow? I don't mean that in a bad sense, it's just that I felt like I was losing hold of what was going on in the character's heads and focusing more on what was happening physically. And thus, this chapter was born. I'm so bad at writing chapters, because they're so bloody short. It's because I have a habit of writing just as I'm about to go to bed, or running out of time. I apologise. Sincerely.

Anyhow, please review, if you don't I get discouraged, and writing becomes less of a joy and more of a chore. There's nothing like reviews to get you motivated.