"Enjoying my old post, are you?" Severus asked idly. Draco, sitting properly on a couch as if to cancel out the impropriety of Snape's posture – one leg dangling off the side of his cushioned chair, arms flung back over the other arm, head at an awkward angle – smiled uncomfortably in response. Draco's own wineglass had been emptied once and set aside; Snape apparently felt his reasons for drinking were dire enough to risk the vulnerability and truthfulness drinking usually evoked. Draco had never thought of his professor as quite the layabout type, but of course he'd never thought him the type to kill Dumbledore, either.
According to Narcissa, Snape had a reason. Was it enough? Academically, Draco began to wonder. To those on Dumbledore's side – or, let's not kid ourselves, those who followed Dumbledore and Potter – could any gain be worth losing the Headmaster? Draco couldn't really see it. Although, obviously, it was all of the good for the Malfoys. Draco smiled. All good for him. Sure, Moldywart – Voldemort – was watching him more carefully, as could be expected. But Draco had to admit that he personally owed the continued health of all members of his family to Snape's ruthless pragmatism.
Could Snape possibly still be in with the muggle-lovers? Draco shot him an examining look, but Severus continued to recline, holding an empty wineglass by the stem and looking on the whole (Draco couldn't help noticing), like a total slob. It was in fact beginning to bother Draco quite a lot.
"Professor!" He wanted Snape awake and alert, now.
Snape lifted his head and opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear his vision. "Merlin, Draco, what?" Momentarily surprised, Draco attributed Snape's manner to the alcohol and moved recklessly forward.
"How did you do it, for so long? How could you even pretend, make nice with that awful lot?" The words were venomous, but Draco spoke them curiously. Snape gave a short, bitter bark of a laugh.
"It gets easier with time. Of course, being an accomplished occlumentalist doesn't hurt," Draco refrained from mentioning that he had recently reached an impressive level of proficiency in that very art, "But after awhile, the lie comes naturally. You can almost think like the man they believe you to be. I wouldn't worry, Draco." He'd done it again, Draco thought in surprise as Snape raised his eyes to meet those of his pupil. "You're very disciplined; I've seen it with your father. You will… excel." At this conclusion Snape looked either depressed or about to be sick, and to Draco there was no ruling out either possibility. But the moment passed without any eventful bodily functions, and Draco burned to ask another question.
"Sir… do you think you'll ever be able to convince them that you had to do it? Maybe to save yourself, or to, you know, save me?"
Snape met his eyes and there was something horrifying in his face.
"No."