A/N: Hey guys. Here's part two. I'm thinking this will either be a six-seven parter in total. Chapter three is being written as we speak. Not sure when I'll be getting it up as I'll be working all this weekend and Monday as well. How cruel. Anyhow, please enjoy and don't forget to review

I own nothing.

It's a Wonderful Slytherin Life Part II

(clearly titles are not my forte)

When Draco once more came to himself he realized that he was in some sort of white room, a boxed in room to be exact. He recalled with alacrity the stories that he had heard from a swarm of third year muggleborn Hufflepuffs who would talk in hushed whispers about men in white coats would come and take people away to rooms such as these. He had always thought that the little buggers had been over-reacting. Hufflepuffs were known for it anyhow - half of them were high and the other half too afraid to be acting like anything other than high. It's why they were so willing to help.

Yet now, in this room he felt the overwhelming pressure on his chest. Veritable panic. Had the Hufflepuffian white men come for him? Had he really committed suicide and everything had just been some sort of freakish fantasy? Was he in that hell muggles so adamantly claim to be true?

And just when he had been about to soil himself and cause a premature cardiac arrest a hand lightly fell upon his shoulder, and with the slight pressure came a calming force. Draco took a deep breath and visibly relaxed. He centered himself.

"Where we are, Mr Malfoy," began the silken rumble of Severus Snape behind him, "is a place to begin building. It's a handy trick known by those who teach arithmancy and, though I'd be loathe to say they do it much good, divination.. It's a room of possibilities. Think of it as a tabula rasa of the mind. You brought up an interesting situation that I think we should explore. What would it be like if one Draco Malfoy did not exist, hm?" Draco looked a might perplexed.

"What are you talking about?"

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes. "I know you don't have a penchant for listening in class, Mr. Malfoy, but perhaps you will do me the honor," he sneered the word, "of giving me your undivided attention now. This is for your benefit, though I suspect with the way you were raised that is the norm as opposed to a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Draco, as to be expected, wasn't listening. He was Slytherin enough to realize that Professor Snape stopped talking and took his opportunity there.

"So you're a what now, a Guardian angel?"

"Excellent recap of the last ten minutes. It's no surprise you are second only to miss Granger in grades," he sneered.

"For a Guardian angel, you sure are snarky."

"When I took this form I also took on his personality," he drawled with a smirk. "How lucky of you."

"So this is what your kind does? You go around waiting until your charges try to off themselves and then whisk them away to a blank room in the middle of nowhere? I'm starting to believe that this is a hangup for lechers."

If it was possible Snape's face darkened moreso than its usual black effect. His lank hair fell forward to almost cover his entire face but for the look of dark, dangerous, inky eyes glaring. Draco shuddered under that gaze and for the first time wished that he had the better sense to shut the hell up once in awhile. And then, suddenly, just as fast as it had come, Snapes face went blank. Visibly walls snapped up leaving him a wall of emotionlessness with only a smirk gracing his face.

"Would you like that, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked softly. Draco blanched. And stuttered. And backed away. And felt a sudden need to have an out of body experience so that he was very, very far away.

"Oh, get a hold of yourself," Snape rolled his eyes. "Now, we're going to have this damned experiment, you'll have an epiphany, and then we can all go back to our respective positions." Snape reached into his robed and pulled out an object and handed it to Draco. Draco looked at it oddly. It was a bell.

"Ring it, you dunderhead."

Draco rang the bell. When Snape raised a delicate eyebrow, he sighed and continued to ring it. As the dainty little sound echoed through the room and pleased, almost glazed over look came over his eyes. He looked up towards the ceiling and said "you'll have to give me a pair sometime you twinkling bastard."

"Uh, sir?" Draco

Snape sighed. "I suppose you want to continue. Alright. Stop that incessant ringing! Now. As I was saying, this room is open to possibilities. We will be working with your suggestion earlier tonight. What would the world be like if one Draco Malfoy had never existed?"

"Pleasant," said Draco succinctly.

"For me that's a given. Perhaps even for you," there went that eyebrow again. "however, let's make this interesting, shall we?" by now he had brandished his wand and was twirling it with perverse delight in his fingers. "Instead of seeing how the world is in general, let's see how your lack of existence matters to one individual. Perhaps, shall we say, that person you desire above all others?" Draco gave him a sharp look.

"What do you mean by that?" he said suspiciously.

"Exactly what I said, Mr. Malfoy. Now let's see who it is you're secretly pining over." Snape touched his wand to Draco's head and smirked. "I do hope it's not Miss Parkinson. That would just be too predictable."

And stretching out his wand he said a small incantation and pointed it in front of him. Draco started to protest but it was too late. Out from the wand came a silvery wisp of smoke. Eventually it started to take a shape, a shape that looked very similar to a boy with a mop of dark hair that was sticking up, glasses, green eyes and a peculiar lightning scar in his brow.

"Potter?" Snape was torn between laughing and a sudden urge to murder something. "You desire Potter!"

Draco glared at him. "Hey I didn't say I was proud of it okay! I can't help who I love."

"You love him? You ignorant child! You don't even know if he likes... if he swings..." he made a large sweeping motion of his hand, indicating all of Draco. "If he... oh hell, if he even would return your affections on a level of mutual attraction."

"I know that!" Draco snapped. "I know it's wrong. He's a Gryffindor, the boy-who-doesn't-want-to-die, my father hates him, I'm pretty sure I hate him, and he's all I bloody think about."

"Hate and love are surprisingly similar emotions," mused Snape.

"That's ridiculous," sniffed Draco.

"You think so?" Snape drawled. "They're both powerful. If that headmaster is to be believed love is the only thing keeping the boy alive. The dark lord, on the other hand, is only capable of hatred. Do you think it was merely his ambition and fear of death keeping him alive those years before his re-emergence? It was his hatred and his desire to take his revenge on those who opposed him which fuels him, just as love fuels your young would-be paramour" he sneered, "to go up against a wizard who has more power in his little finger than the boy does in his entire body."

"Similarities have to be stronger than just based on their driving potential," argued the young boy, whipping his white hair out of his eyes.

"You hurt the ones you hate, you hurt even more, the ones you love. You seem to know that well enough," Snape looked off in the distance, his face glazed again.

Draco seemed like he was about to argue but a sudden thought came to him. He had hurt Harry, he supposed. That petty rivalry of theirs. The more he felt he loved him the more he antagonized him. It was the only way to cover up the emotions, after all. It was also the way to hide them from himself as well. Him, loving a half-blood Gryffindor, ridiculous! And still, it was there. He hated how Harry made him feel - like the ferret him and his friends had so often made fun of him for being.

He was like a ferret. Slipping across his emotions on little white feet. Yellow feet, he, thought bitterly. That's what they should be. Yellow, cowardly feet. There was a pressure on Draco's chest again, though it was welcome. He had felt it on and off for years now, to varying degrees. And each time he felt that pressure there was a flash of green eyes in his mind, not so different from the flash of the Avada Kedavra curse.

Once he had heard his father regaling his death eater friends about the tale of how Lily Potter had died and Harry was bequeathed his famous scar. Never knowing the color of the late Lily's eyes, he imagined it must have been that green light from Voldemort's wand that stained his irises.

When Harry looked at him, sometimes, with that loathing, that concentrated wrath, Draco would feel a part of himself shrivel under that gaze, like those eyes could suck life as well.

"Sir," said Draco, snapping out of his haunted reverie. "How will Harry's life he affected if I wasn't around?" Snape blinked, then turned to look at the boy, as if just remembering his presence.

"We shall see. Now, close your eyes and concentrate, Mr. Malfoy. This will only hurt for a second..."