The next afternoon, Snape was carefully bottling the Veritaserum and labeling the bottles in his neat, precise hand. Janney intended to introduce the students to the dangers of Veritaserum after the holidays. He smiled a little sadly, pouring another bottle and carefully putting a stopper to it. The lessons since Voldemort's return had grown increasingly more practical, in preparation for the students to be in the thick of the battle, rather than the theoretical slant they had possessed before.

He was being pushed to teach fourth years complex Healing Potions now, whereas before he would have given them a simple Erasing Potion or the like. All the professors were being pushed, though, to arm the students with what they would need in just a few short years out in the world, taking less care than usual of how the students felt. He had Madame Pomfrey constantly after him to make Calming Concoctions, as her supply was perpetually low with students cracking under the stress of the load suddenly deposited upon them. These were dark times for Hogwarts, indeed.

He couldn't help but be concerned sometimes if those slender, childish shoulders weren't too frail for the burden forced upon them in these dismal times. In forcing them to grow so quickly, how would they affect the world in twenty years, perhaps? If we don't, he reminded himself grimly, in twenty years there will be no world for us to worry about. We all pay the price for our freedoms. In sweat, tears, and blood if need be.

He finished bottling the Veritaserum, just as there was a quiet knock on the door. "Come in, Miss Granger," he said impatiently. She still persisted in that odd habit after three months of work.

The door creaked open, and the quiet swish of a student's robes penetrated the silence. He finally looked up and saw silver-blond hair rather than brown. Draco Malfoy.

He decided to play initially as though he did not know what the boy wanted to tell. Dare I tell him? he thought. If I'm wrong and this is a ruse to draw me in to gain information for the Death Eaters, if I reveal myself as a spy… It would cost both Hermione and himself their lives.

Wary blue eyes studied him as Draco sat across from him, looking for all the world like the contrite schoolboy he had never been. He was paler than usual, and his gaze started darting around nervously.

He smiled humorlessly as Draco cleared his throat and began in a wavering voice, "You should put me under Veritaserum, sir." Everybody knew not to trust a Slytherin. True: the use of Veritaserum was highly regulated. But he was sure Dumbledore would be able to defend it to the Ministry with the gain of a powerful ally, and to be quite frank, the rules had grown more lax in these times.

Wordlessly he handed young Draco a tiny crystal bottle. The boy drank it and settled back. "It's now in effect," Snape told him calmly. "You should be feeling a slight tingle right about now--ah, that was it? You do realize you won't be able to lie. Very well, Mister Malfoy. Please tell me what it is you wished to."

"Tw--two nights ago, sir, my father," he swallowed hard. "You know that the Death Eaters meet at our house a lot."

"I was there twenty years ago," Snape observed dryly. "Certainly."

"Then you know what sort of things they--do." Snape nodded, trying to soften his gaze a little so as not to frighten the boy right then. "Avery and Father captured a Muggle girl earlier that day. He said they were going to have some fun with her that evening at the gathering." He looked distinctly ill, huddling down into his robes and shivering at the memory. Snape cast a surreptitious Warming Charm in the room.

"I--I thought that they'd play around a little, like they did with those Muggles at the Quidditch World Cup a few years back," Draco whispered. "Father's never let me come near the meetings, of course. He said if I was caught there before I was of age, he'd let the Dark Lord deal with me himself."

Snape thought that Voldemort would be pleased with such youthful eagerness to join rather than to punish it, but refrained from saying so. "But he told me to bring the girl down that night and take my first taste of the brotherhood." He swallowed hard, eyes now on his hands firmly clasped and in his lap. "So I did. And Father told me to…to…" He looked up, a hell of torment in his eyes as they met Snape's. "I raped that girl," he said, voice cracking and then fading. "Because I'm weak. Father threatened me and I obeyed." He smiled humorlessly. "The good, obedient son I've always been, of course." He closed his eyes for a moment.

"She was begging me not to, but I did. Then Avery took his turn. He killed her," he said softly. "They used all three of the Unforgivables on her, sir. And I stood by and did nothing." He bit his lip, and Snape noticed it was still raw and scabbed from where he had bit it clean through two nights before. A fresh trickle flowed from the wound now, but Draco idly wiped at it, taking no notice of it beside that. "Father came up to my room that night. I spent half an hour in the shower, trying to scrub it off of me. He said--" shoulders shuddering in a choked sob, "--that it would get easier with time. He was proud of me, Professor."

"Does sound very much like Lucius," he agreed quietly. "So what do you propose to do?"

"I figured I should talk to you, sir," he said, getting the words out. "I could hardly go to Headmaster Dumbledore and say, 'Hullo sir, I raped some Muggle girl and saw all three Unforgivables used. So how has your holiday been?' He wouldn't understand…" His voice trailed off as more frustrated and hurt sobs wracked his slender body.

"The Headmaster understands far better than you may think. He was the one I went to," Snape said, faintly uncomfortable with this. It was not in his nature to be comforting, but sarcasm was the worst thing right here. The best he could do was sit and hear the story out without judgment or interruption. He knew firsthand that anything halting blurting out the whole sordid mess could prevent its telling entirely. "I was farther down that path than you, and he still saw something in me worth saving."

"Still, sir, I thought that it might be best to talk to you, since you've…been there."

Snape nodded. "You did well to do that. Am I correct, then, in assuming you have come to tell me that you do not intend to join the Death Eaters come summer?"

A vehement shake of the head. "No, no, no," Draco moaned, biting his lip again. Snape had noticed through the years that it was quite a habit with the boy. "I'd die first, sir. I--I didn't know what they did. I thought they were out to get rid of Muggles and Mudbloods, and you know I was raised to believe that they were evil so much that I believed it. I didn't know they did," voice lowering to a near whisper, "things like that. I don't know if Muggles and Mudbloods are inferior or what now, but I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

He was reminded of Hermione Granger's innocence in the matter as well and quietly sighed to himself. Again the burden was being thrust upon young and probably quite unready shoulders. "Very well. The way that I see it, Mister Malfoy, is that you have two options at this juncture."

He held up two fingers and ticked the first off, looking past his hand to where Draco was listening intently, looking like a drowning man just thrown a lifeline. "First, you could return and take the Mark. Use it as I did and spy for the forces of Light."

"I could maybe do that before, sir, but not now. I can't go back," Draco said earnestly, eyes wide. "I can't pretend I'm enjoying that, or having to do it again. I'm no Gryffindor," he said with faint distaste, "to have the courage." He realized Draco was also referring to his complying with his father's wishes that night.

"No. You are Slytherin, and despite what others will tell you, there is pride to be had in it. Yes, a Slytherin will do what it takes to survive, even if it is distasteful. We are not ones for noble sacrifices as the Gryffindors are. But we survive to fight again and contribute more than a simple martyrdom."

"Still, sir, I can't act loyal. What's my second option?"

"Following the end of the school year, you will remain at Hogwarts," he said bluntly. "Let me explain precisely what that means, as I have been living it for over two years now. You cannot leave the grounds except under the influence of Polyjuice Potion, and that' is effective for such a short time as to be nearly useless. If you take one step outside the wards, they will hunt you down and kill you. This is a marvelous, safe sanctuary, but a prison as well."

Draco smiled shakily. "My father said, you know, that if anyone could come here and kill you, they'd be honored beyond their dreams. I thought of it," he admitted. "Before I knew. But Father prevented me, saying that killing you would be my own suicide, and it would be a cell in Azkaban. I was too valuable to throw away like that."

Snape wasn't surprised. "You will have to stay here until it ends," he said quietly. "One way or another."

"I understand," Draco said, glancing at him. "Perhaps I could learn to…teach or something of the sort?" he asked hopefully. "So that I have something to do? Not to be ungrateful for the safety offered, but if I have nothing to do here year after year, I will go mad, and then I'm of positively no use."

"I'll consider it, but first you must get through this year. Now, you will have to act as though nothing has occurred. Until you finish here, your father could come here and remove you from the premises, and there's not a damned thing we could do to stop him. If he thinks anything amiss, you know that is precisely what he'll do. So I will need you to act your usual self."

Draco gave a self-deprecating laugh. "One spoiled, self-centered Malfoy heir. Certainly: at least there are no holidays I need to spend at home between now and term's end, so I won't have to possibly go through it again." He looked at Snape. "Thank you, sir," he said quietly.

Snape said nothing to the thanks, knowing any reply would embarrass them both. "Mister Malfoy, please do be advised I will inform the Headmaster of your decision." There was a flash of fear and disgust in Draco's eyes, which he quickly moved to dispel. "I will not, however, inform him of the circumstances. Those are strictly between yourself and I, as I am your Head of House." Draco nodded.

"Though I do believe perhaps you and I should chat more often," Snape suggested subtly. "After all, it's very hard to keep my eye on all of the Slytherins when I'm trying to go through all those disgraceful exams from the Gryffindors." Draco realized that Snape had suggested he spy on his fellow Slytherins and gave a bit of a smirk. "I do believe you shall be telling your friends that your Potions grade has taken a slide and that I demand remedial lessons."

"How's your schedule?"

"Thursday evenings?"

"That'll do, sir. I'll keep my eyes open, be assured." He hesitated a moment, but pressed on. "Does it ever go away, sir?"

"Does what go away?"

"The urge to go throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower," Draco said flatly.

"It fades," Snape said honestly. "But I can say after twenty years it has yet to die."

Draco gave a defeated sigh. "I supposed not. Erm--I suppose I had best stay here until this Veritaserum wears off. Don't want Crabbe and Goyle asking me what I've been up to…"

Snape grinned to himself. "You may go. That was a Wakefulness Potion, not Veritaserum."

"Sir?" He sounded confused.

"Mister Malfoy," he said, "if you had the courage to come and tell me all this and risk my calling out the Aurors to have you hauled to Azkaban, is it not the least I could do to trust that you would tell me the whole truth and nothing but?"

Draco looked positively shocked at the very Slytherin maneuver, and quite surprised at the trust. Slytherins were never trusted. I do know my Slytherins, he thought with equal parts pride and sadness. He remembered long ago, he had demanded to be dosed with Veritaserum for his confession to Dumbledore, sure that the old man would believe nothing he said otherwise. I am the only one who would dare to trust Slytherins. Whether it be my folly or not.

Young Malfoy left the dungeons, and Snape returned to his work on labeling the potions for the day, nodding in satisfaction. He could trust the boy. After the last bottle was done, he headed for Dumbledore's office, half-wondering if the nearly clairvoyant old man wouldn't know already. He had to admit to a small frisson of satisfaction. A blow had been struck to Voldemort, even if the Dark Lord didn't know it. Perhaps there were those among the students who were ready to find their weapons and fight. It remained only to find them, but he was certain that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were in that group. "Sassafras," he spoke the password, and went into Dumbledore's office to see the Headmaster beaming at him.

"Quite a splendid job, Severus," Dumbledore said cheerfully. Snape merely shook his head and wondered yet again how on Earth Dumbledore just knew these things.