Draco could only stand, arms folded, and pretend to supervise.
At last his mother ushered him into his new room - still depressingly plain and bare, but at least looking as if a wizard had once visited it.
"We can burn those," she waved a hand at the school robes he still wore, stained slightly from recent misadventures. "I have found you some robes that will suffice for our incognito period. Arms out, now."
Draco raised his arms and allowed his mother to remove his outer clothing. Her hands traced over his frame, murmuring small charms over the bruises she found. It all put him in mind of being a very small child, when his mother rather than the elves had tended to most of his needs... when he'd managed to crash a broom he shouldn't have been old enough to fly into a stone wall and banged his head horribly...
At last she completed her appraisal and laid a hand against his slicked-back hair. "You'll be growing it out now," she commented. "Would you prefer to lengthen it quickly, or pull it back? You're young yet."
Draco looked at his reflection in the unmoving Muggle mirror and tried to imagine himself with a long fall of hair like his father's. Pale sunken face, circles under his eyes, colorless hair falling to mid-chest... he would look like some sort of barrow-wight. "Pulled back."
"I will find you suitable accessories later, then," Narcissa nodded. She adjusted the fit of the new dark-blue robes; a distinguished color, but the fabric left much to be desired. "Well. Almost a proper gentleman, at least."
"Almost?" he quipped, raising his head to look down his nose at the mirror. There. That looked better.
Her hand came to rest on the damned spot on his left arm. "If it weren't for this..."
Draco jerked away. "What else could I do, Mother? The Dark Lord would have abandoned us! He hasn't done anything to get Father free! If I won his favor, reminded him how valuable a Malfoy could be..."
"Did you ever think that he was safer where he was?" Narcissa hissed in his ear. "Where he was, the Dark Lord could not reach him! Once things calmed down, we could have arranged for his release. Whoever wins this struggle will wish for our gracious support to maintain the peace. But then you put yourself into the Dark Lord's hands... now look at us! Your life in danger. Barred from our own home. And completely unable to help your father or even speak his name..."
"You..." Draco blinked. "That was a Vow, wasn't it? You're really sworn to Snape?"
"It was a fair price to pay for your life."
"But he... if he can compel you..." Draco sought her hand. "Has he hurt you, Mother? Has he demanded that you... do things?"
Narcissa scoffed. "Severus Snape barely knows what a woman is, Draco. I am not in danger. This is about politics, not about sex, and certainly not about love. Come." She led him to the bed and sat primly on the edge. "Remember, we went to school together. He was a few years younger than I, but he was known to the family. Regulus, especially, nearly idolised him and talked about him constantly." She smiled coldly. "Anything to irritate his brother. And which of them was the bigger fool is hard to say. Of course, at the time, we didn't know the unfortunate truth about Snape's bloodline..."
Draco's mouth fell open. "Snape? SNAPE is a Mu-"
"Don't be foolish," his mother snapped. "It was obvious to anyone that he had at least one wizarding parent. He knew things he could not have learned from books. He was a very clever hexer, even as a first-year. The Gryffindor traitor was lucky to get off the train with only one set of clothing ruined."
Draco nodded blankly. "But... not a pureblood?"
"It's not common knowledge," Narcissa admitted. "The name was unknown, of course, but with his features and mannerisms, we'd always assumed he came from a foreign family. His language was exquisitely precise, you see. A trained accent."
"How did you find out, then?"
"Cousin Regulus was concerned that his friend had no marriage prospects - had never, as he said, expressed any interest in the Slytherin women. He requested my expertise in arranging a suitable match, and therefore I did some research into the family background and discovered the truth."
"Were they - lovers?"
Narcissa frowned. "Not to my knowledge. However, it's not your concern if they were. Severus is the lord of the family now. You should give him your respect and support - not dig around for the skeletons of his past. We know his background. The Dark Lord knows his background. No one else needs to. Perhaps he never had any interest in marrying because he did not want to taint a good line, but he has a pureblooded heir now - you."
Draco scowled. "I am in his debt. And if he is not taking advantage of you, then I am grateful to him for that as well. But he is not my father, and I intend to see my family restored. What are the terms of these Vows? How can they be ended?"
His mother spoke slowly and carefully. "An Unbreakable Vow cannot be broken by the person who swore it. The power of the vow is bound between two people by the magic of a third party, whose force sustains it. The vow can be dissolved when the person it is sworn to tells the Binder to release it, or... if the Binder is no longer able to contribute magical energy to enforcing the Vow."
"If the Binder is dead," Draco guessed. "Who is the Binder of your vow?"
Narcissa was silent.
"Who is it, mother? Whose life is holding our family captive?"
The older woman only closed her eyes.
Draco stared at her. "You can't answer," he said flatly. "Well, it was someone at the gathering, I can tell that much." He held up a hand. "No, don't say anything, I'll change the subject. You do the best that you can, I understand that. And I will do what I have to as well."
---
The cheerful light of day glowing against the bright red decor of Gryffindor Commons was just slightly more than Hermione's head wanted to deal with. Other than squinting at that lurid color, though, she didn't feel too terrible. Either the stories of hangovers were exaggerated, or Ginny's suggestion of drinking water had been correct.
She wondered if she should apologise to Ginny again, but the redhead had seemed to take the whole thing in stride. It wasn't like they'd done anything really horrible, anyway. It was just a kiss.
Just a kiss?
That one kiss had been nothing like kissing Ron, and not just because Ginny was a girl. She and Ron were usually, well, fooling around. Having fun. It was always a little shy and awkward, even if it was nice. A lot nicer than being mauled by Cormac McLaggen! Kissing Ron, or even thinking about kissing Ron, made her grin and blush, but it didn't drive her wild with passion. Last night, between the tears and the whisky, she'd felt a terrible fire inside her, a pain in her chest and an unfathomable need to DO something - even if she didn't know what.
And yet, even with all that, it had felt wrong. Because she didn't love Ginny.
Hermione supposed she should be proud that even drunk and overwrought and swept away on a sea of passion, her heart was strong enough to say no.
So why did she feel sad?
Maybe that was the hangover. Inexplicable moodiness.
Anyway, time was wasting.
Hermione tossed a handful of powder into the fire and called up the Burrow. The heads of Molly Weasley and Fleur appeared shortly, jammed together. "Yes?" Molly started. "Have you got the - Oh! Hermione! How are you, dear?" Beside her, Fleur's face flickered and vanished - but awkwardly, as if finding room to step away from the fireplace hadn't been easy.
"Hi, Mrs Weasley," Hermione smiled, trying not to let the green flames make her feel ill. "Can you put Harry on? I need to ask him a question."
"Of course, dear! Just a moment."
More awkward rearranging.
"Hi, Hermione!" Harry popped into focus at last. He looked much better than the last time she'd seen him. Crowding must be good for him. "You're not too lonely over there, are you?"
"No, I've got lots of books to catch up on," Hermione reassured him. "Actually, that's part of why I'm calling. Can you tell me where you hid Snape's old Potions book?"
Some of the worry returned to his face. "Why do you want that?"
"I'm just trying to gather more information - about him, about everything he was up to. Now that we know who the book belongs to, I thought I might be able to find some clues in it about the past. There's still so much we don't know, Harry!" Her voice warmed to the subject.
He shook his head. "I don't think it will do any good, but... well, I guess you aren't going to go around casting strange spells you find in that book." He grimaced, then gave directions to the hiding place in the Room of Requirement. "Just be careful in there. Take Ginny with you. The Vanishing Cabinet the Death Eaters used was in there too, and who knows what else might have ended up in that dump."
"Don't worry," Hermione smiled. "I'm not going to get into any trouble."
"'Course not!" she could hear Ron's voice echoing distantly through the Floo connection. "It's HERMIONE! She never does anything stupid!"
Harry laughed and waved goodbye.
Hermione looked around at the leftover mess from last night. No, I never do anything stupid...
---
"Sir?" Draco worked his way carefully down the stairs. The Muggle basement was still too clean and bright for a proper wizardly dungeon, but at least the walls here were rough and gray instead of pure, shining white. Shelves were crammed with books and bottles, and old wooden tables scattered around the room.
"Take a seat, Draco." Snape was standing before a small cauldron, casually stirring the contents.
The young blond obediently seated himself in a tacky plastic folding chair without even wrinkling his nose at it. "How may I help?"
"That depends on how far you trust me, Draco. You didn't, in the past." Snape scowled. "I have a great many experiments that have been disrupted by my sudden move. I could use an... assistant. Someone competent at Potions, and someone willing to take directions and ask no questions. I would rather not involve an outsider in this work at all, but I am behind schedule."
"What about Wormtail, sir?"
"He does not qualify." A twisted smile. "Feel free to treat the rat as you would one of your house elves, only draw the line at actually beheading him. The Dark Lord does not wish for lives to be taken without his express permission. Pain, however, can be dispensed freely." He slammed a hand down on the wooden surface. "Which stands for you as well, if you fail me. If you do not think you can take orders from me in this laboratory, without questions, then return to your mother now."
"You are the head of my household," Draco affirmed. "I will do as you ask."
What could Snape be brewing down here that was such a secret, anyway? Poisons? Mind-weakeners? Blood magic? It didn't matter. He needed Snape's trust in order to find a way to unravel the Vow. If his willing assistance was valuable enough, he might have something to bargain with. If not, he would still have a better chance of gaining the information he would need to break the bond himself.
"Very well." Snape handed over a roll of parchment. "Prepare these ingredients as requested, then go and reassure your mother that I have not Petrified you. She will need comforting for a time, Draco. I leave that responsibility to you." He returned to his cauldron. "Women do not react well to the loss of a husband - even a poor one."
