Well done, Draco, well done
Chapter 2: Snape
When Flitwick ran into his office, told him that there were Death Eaters in the castle and the Dark Mark was flying above the Astronomy Tower he'd thought for a moment that the Dark Lord must have come himself, must have broken the wards protecting the castle. He'd thought it was Godrick's Hollow all over again, I didn't know, I didn't know, and then he'd realised, he isn't here, the Mark isn't burning, and I would have felt the wards go down … this is Draco's doing.
He'd stunned Flitwick, one less to kill or be killed by - and he liked Flitwick, he didn't want to have to hurt him - and a handy excuse to get rid of Granger and Lovegood, what the hell were they doing, hanging around his office? He'd dashed through the fighting, through the barrier, he knew what it was, the Dark Mark would get him through it, he'd raced up the stairs, burst out onto the ramparts … and he'd looked around, taking in the scene, four Death Eaters, Draco, the Headmaster slumped and white faced - the Headmaster disarmed - and two broomsticks … two broomsticks, was Potter there, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak? For a moment he'd thought, it's only the Carrows, Yaxley and Grayback … four Death Eaters and Draco, the boy doesn't count, I can handle them, and I can hold the Astronomy Tower against the ones downstairs until the Ministry can get here.
But Amycus Carrow was saying, "We've got a problem … the boy doesn't seem able … " and Narcissa's words had flashed into his mind, "should it prove necessary … if it seems Draco will fail …"He'd known then what his choices were, fulfil the Vow and be released from it, or die, but still he didn't want to do it, he'd looked to the Headmaster for orders, and Dumbledore had said do it, had pleaded with him, do it, or we both die, here, now, and maybe Harry dies too. Still he'd hesitated, even though he knew he didn't really have a choice, he'd never had a choice, despite Dumbledore's words in the Forbidden Forest, and Dumbledore had pleaded with him again, do it, and get them away from here, get them away from Harry, get Grayback away from Hogwarts, and do what you can for Draco. So he'd done it, and it hadn't been so difficult, all he'd needed to do was unleash that part of himself that had been chained for fifteen years, chained since the Dark Lord fell - all he needed to do was to unleash the killer within. In a way, it had been a huge relief, just to give in, to give in to the desire that had been building ever since the Dark Lord rose again. Oh, it hadn't been so difficult after all, what had been difficult was to stop. It would have been so easy to keep going, to kill the filthy werewolf, it stank, even though it wasn't transformed, and then the rest of them, maybe even Draco … but he'd kept his head, remembered Dumbledore's plan, remembered the Horcruxes.
He'd shouted to the others, "It's over, time to go," but of course it wasn't over until he'd faced the Dark Lord. He'd been wary, he knew that, Dark Mark or no Dark Mark, if the Dark Lord thought he was getting ideas, if the Dark Lord thought he might forget who is master and who is servant, he was dead, so he'd crawled to the Dark Lord, head bowed submissively, kissed his robes, and then he'd felt the Dark Lord's hand touching his hair, running down the side of his face, the palm under his chin, forcing his head up, and the unnaturally long fingers spreading out across his throat, caressing him, stroking him. He'd known what was coming, and he'd thought, Headmaster, I am ready, I am prepared, and he'd looked up into the red slit eyes and opened his mind.
He shown the Dark Lord his memory of Dumbledore begging, but not what he was begging for, the Dark Lord feared death more than anything, he'd draw his own conclusions. He hadn't tried to hide the bloodlust he'd felt after he'd cast the Killing Curse, the desire to keep on killing, or the revulsion and loathing he felt for Greyback, the Dark Lord knew he hated werewolves … it was best to lie as little as possible to the Dark Lord … He'd shown him the duel with Potter - if you could call it a duel, Potter had been pathetic, it would have been so easy to kill him - shown the Dark Lord the incandescent rage he felt for Potter, there was no lie in that, he'd wanted to kill Potter when Potter called him a coward, and he couldn't stop himself from hurting Potter a little at the end … but he didn't show the Dark Lord the other reason for the rage. Bloody Potter, Dumbledore had given his life for Potter, to get the Death Eaters away from him, but the idiot boy had to come running after him, had to endanger himself again, he could have been killed … thank Merlin Hagrid's Hippogriff had attacked him, given him an excuse to leave the boy …
The Dark Lord had been satisfied, had allowed him look away, but the strain had been terrific and he'd felt the way he always does when the Dark Lord stops looking into his mind, dirty and used.
He remembers how the Dark Lord had let slip that he was a half-blood, in the same way he had let slip that Lupin was a werewolf, but that doesn't worry him, the others won't dare to say a thing … and he thinks, that was probably mostly to goad Bellatrix. Oh yes, Bellatrix Lestrange will be at his throat in no time, but perhaps he can make it work for him, if he can get her to attack him, preferably when his back is turned, if it looks like she is too unstable to be a useful servant, then he has a chance of killing her without losing the Dark Lord's favour.
He looks across at Draco, the kid is a mess, didn't Bellatrix have the sense to give him a taste of crucio to toughen him up, to prepare him? Everyone gets a dose from time to time, "to encourage the others", firewhisky is the best palliative, chocolate for Dementors, firewhisky for crucio … He looks at Pettigrew, stuck with the rat again, blast, what is the Dark Lord playing at? On the other hand, it is useful to have a witness, a spying, sneaking, tale-carrying witness, for the conversation he intends to have with Draco tonight, if is still tonight, it feels more like early morning. He pours a glass of whisky for Wormtail, settles himself back in the old armchair, lights a cigarette, and fixes his eyes on Draco. Now that he's not bound by the Vow, he could rip through Draco's defences as if they were wet tissue paper, but there'll be no need for that, let the firewhisky do its work, Occlumency and alcohol don't mix, not unless you're a master …
He waits until Draco has downed his whisky and then explains the no magic rule to Draco, Spinner's End isn't Unplottable but it's the next best thing – it isn't on his Ministry file or in his personnel records at Hogwarts, his anti-Apparition wards reach as far as the river, the house is heavily warded and an uninvited visitor is likely to have a nasty accident, and we are not talking enchanted dustbins. Typical Malfoy! Draco is wondering who does the cleaning and the cooking? Ah, well, Wormtail does have his uses … he looks at Pettigrew, and smirks nastily.
He looks back at Draco, appraisingly, Merlin, he looks like Lucius at the same age! The same pointed face, pale grey eyes, white-blond hair … he asks Draco what experience he's had with the Unforgiveable Curses, Bellatrix must have taught the boy something. He's not surprised to hear that Lucius had taught his son the Imperius Curse, telling people what to do comes naturally to a Malfoy … and Draco has had some experience with the Cruciatus Curse. But not until tonight, he thinks sourly, the really educational experience of a dose of it yourself, no, you never really get used to crucio, it bloody well hurts, especially when it's the Dark Lord dishing it out.
Draco is telling him that Bellatrix provided a dog to practice the Cruciatus Curse on, and he asks, "A big black dog, I suppose?" Draco nods, and he struggles not to laugh out loud, that's rich, Bellatrix really knows how to nurse a grudge … Draco is looking daggers at him and he thinks, at least have the wit not to say anything, Draco, Wormtail is listening, and he'll run to the Dark Lord if he has the faintest whiff of suspicion that your allegiance is only luke warm.
He asks Draco about the Killing Curse, he's pretty sure that Draco has never used it, the way his wand hand was shaking on the ramparts of the Astronomy Tower. Draco has the nerve to lie to him, and that annoys him, he tells Draco, "Don't try to fuck me around, Draco, this is too important," and Draco confesses that he couldn't kill the dog, and he's not really surprised. He thinks, Draco is the spitting image of Lucius, but he's more Narcissa's son than Lucius', bloody hell, Lucius, how were you going to deal with this? How were you going to deal with the fact that your son hasn't got what it takes to be a Death Eater? He's like Potter, he hasn't got the nerve or the ability ...
He tells Draco about the theoretical basis of the Killing Curse, says, "The Killing Curse is comparable to the Patronus Charm. The Patronus requires you to concentrate on a single, very happy memory, and conversely, the Avada Kedavra requires you to concentrate on a memory that inspires hate and anger, to focus such a memory. You really need to mean it, you must really want to kill." And he watches for the memories that Draco could use … Harry Potter catching the Snitch or Hermione Granger coming top of the class in Potions isn't going to do it, you need stronger stuff than that, what about James Potter threatening to take your underpants off, to take your underpants off in front of a crowd, in front of a girl … a girl you like, a girl you'd like to impress, a girl you've just called a filthy Mudblood?
But when he sees a glimpse of the memory that Draco is trying to hide, he feels ineffably sad. He thinks, no one stood over me to take the Dark Mark, I did that to myself, and now that I've made my bed I'm going to have to lie in it. He knows what Dumbledore would want him to do, but he hesitates, he hadn't planned on breaking cover so soon after Dumbledore's death, and he's got no information about the Horcruxes. He thinks, the Dark Lord won't tell me that, not while Bellatrix lives, that information is too secret to be shared with more than one trusted servant …
He knows that it's cruel, but he needs to know before he risks losing everything that Dumbledore has gambled for, he needs to know what Draco is really made of, so he tells him about the unsavory little game they used to play with Muggles, he and Lucius and the others, the game he never dared to confess to Dumbledore, best to gloss over that, and just say "I killed countless Muggles". Draco is looking both shocked and disbelieving, for god's sake can he really be so ignorant of what his father is really like? He thinks, Lucius is my friend and damn good company most of the time, but grow up, kid, and face it, your father is one nasty bastard, he should have married Bellatrix, not Narcissa. Not for the first time, he thinks, am I going to have to kill Lucius one day? Fucking hell, am I going soft, I killed Dumbledore, didn't I, so why would I hesitate to kill Lucius – if he doesn't get me first, of course. Which he might do when he finds out what's going to happen to Draco …
He's got the beginnings of a scheme worked out, a scheme to get Draco out of the picture without anyone suspecting the boy's loyalties … a scheme to keep him safe until the end of the war. He almost barks with laughter, it's brilliant, Draco will be underground until the war is over … literally underground! It will need Moody's co-operation, though, and that means he'll have to deal with Potter, and that thought sobers him immediately. Potter! Shit, he saw everything, he's not going to be very rational … he's not going to be easy to convince. Dumbledore suggested using the pensieve, but how's he going to get Potter to even consider it, and Moody's going to be, as the Muggles put it, trigger-happy. The Ministry is bound to authorize the use of the Unforgiveables against him, so at least he won't end up in Azkaban …
Azkaban! The Azkaban plan is still confidential, he can't mention details, but he drops a reference to the Aurors, more to enjoy the look of terror that appears on Wormtail's face than for any other reason, but Draco is really rattled, of course he's shitting himself at the thought of taking on Aurors, that's understandable, he's not even of age.
Draco looks as if he's going to throw up, not surprising after three glasses of Ogdens Old Firewhisky, that stuff's rotgut, but what can you expect on his salary? He gets Draco up to the bathroom, gives him a decent interval to be sick, and when he finds him passed out on the floor – Merlin's beard, what a mess for Wormtail to clean up – he heaves Draco into bed, in the rat's old room.
Then he goes to his own room, wards it, casts a Silencing charm, and throws himself on the bed, he can't even be bothered to get out of his robes, but there's something he needs to do before he can sleep. He'd been braced for a terrific surge of "visceral energy" - as the student text books coyly put it - when Dumbledore died, but there hadn't been much of a blast, and then he had known just to what extent the Headmaster had diminished before he'd died. No, there hadn't been much of a blast but there is still a nagging, lingering tension, it's bothering him badly, and he needs to get rid of it. He's disgusted by his need but he can't deny it, so he slips his hand under his robes and starts stroking himself, trying to keep his mind blank because this is not about frustrated desire, or a wish for pleasure, or even about alleviating boredom, but about physical relief at its most basic, a release of tension so that he can sleep … so why is he looking at that damn photograph again? The photograph taken at their graduation, the photograph showing Slughorn, Lily and himself, Lily is standing between them, smiling and holding the Potions Award, awarded jointly to Severus Snape and Lily Evans, she looks amazing, with her hair twisted up in an elegant knot at the back of her head, wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle blue material.
Slughorn is looking expansive and self-satisfied, and he's looking faintly embarrassed, but he looks OK, he's finally grown into that damn nose, and for once he has new robes. Lily turns to Slughorn, embraces him, kisses him on the cheek, and then she turns to him, reaches up to kiss him, and he's taken by surprise, he turns his head and her lips brush against his for a moment, and it's electrifying, intoxicating. He can still remember what he was thinking at that moment: Lily Evans kissed me, Lily kissed me … Potter's got the marks to get into the Auror Corps, I always knew he would, bastard, but a Gringotts curse breaker is as good as an Auror any day and the pay is better, I'm bound to get that job, my DADA and Arithmancy results are outstanding, they're my best subjects – after Potions. I need a job, it's alright for Lucius to get involved in politics, he's stinking rich, that bloke Voldemort he supports sounds alright, he's got the right idea about Muggles and he's a Slytherin, when Voldemort is Minister for Magic the Gryffindors will get a well-deserved kick up the pants …. yes, a career in politics is alright for Lucius, but I need money now, god knows where my mother found the galleons for new dress robes … and I'll look Lily up at her Muggle parents' house, she's Potter's girlfriend, she's not his property. And he had looked Lily up, and he'd crucioed that bitch sister of hers, well she was asking for it, telling him, "My freak sister isn't here, she's out with her boyfriend," crucioed her and told her she'd get another dose if she ever dared to tell – or to call Lily a freak again.
He thinks, utterly miserable, I've been wanking over this bloody photograph for twenty years, when will it stop? But in his mind she's already opening her mouth to him, she's willing and eager, she's opening her legs to him, she's arching her back beneath him and calling his name, because he knows exactly how and where to touch her to give her pleasure, she's whispering in his ear, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, and he can't stop, he won't stop until he's marked her as his in a way that every male will understand, and he can't stop until he's finished, curled up in his bed, hand and belly sticky with his semen. But after the brief moment of satisfaction comes an awful emptiness, worse than ever before, and he can't lie to himself any longer, he's keening aloud with the pain, the pain of his heart tearing into rags, I was in love with her, I loved her, I loved her, and I loved Dumbledore, too, and I killed both of them.