Draco waited for the class to empty, a worried glance from Trysten setting butterflies loose in his stomach. As the last student filtered out (assisted by a harsh glare from Snape), his teacher stepped towards him.

"What's this all about?" Severus asked.

"My father," Draco replied simply, knowing Snape would understand.

Severus bowed his head. "I was afraid so. Let us talk in the office." Severus held the door open for the teen, placing silencing charms on the door as he entered. Snape got comfortable, waiting for Draco to do the same before continuing. "What news have you received?"

Draco held up a letter, the Malfoy seal broken upon its front. "They know of mother's 'betrayal'," Draco summarized, the last word dripping with sarcasm. Draco watched as Snape put his head in his hands.

"I had thought that might be the case." Severus gestured for Draco to continue.

"They're planning to bring her to Voldemort on various occasions to change her mind." Draco ground his teeth in anger, knowing what these sessions would entail.

"Narcissa is the proudest woman I've met, perhaps excusing Lily Evans. She won't change her mind," Severus grimaced, rubbing his temples.

"I know," Draco agreed, keeping a waver out of his voice. "And if she refuses to accept the Dark Lord…they'll kill her."

Snape sighed. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm not sure there's anything we can do, but I'll try to think of something. Is that all?" Snape stood, preparing to leave.

"Unfortunately not," Draco groaned. Snape looked at him expectantly. "Father has scheduled my initiation." Severus looked at him a long moment, then, without a word, stood and rifled through his cabinet. A moment later he turned towards Draco, a bottle of firewhisky and two glasses in hand.

"I take it your views haven't changed?" Severus asked, pouring the liquid evenly between the two glasses. He handed one to Draco.

"Like I could ever follow that monster?" Draco snorted, clinking their glasses together before taking a deep drink. After a few moments of silence, Draco looked up to his mentor, all traces of bravado gone. "Severus, what are we going to do?"

Snape sighed and began to refill his empty glass. "I'm not sure, Draco. You're far too young to be a spy, nor could I put you in that much danger.

"But I cannot simply refuse, either," he pointed out.

"No, you can't." Snape looked to Draco and sighed. "Merlin, Draco, is there anything good in your life?" He finished off the glass, keeping an eye on his protégé. Draco, on the other hand, had set his glass down and was blushing very slightly, examining his hands quite closely. "There is?" Draco looked up to his elder, knowing the man would come to the right conclusion soon enough. After mere seconds under Severus' calculating gaze, the man sat back, smiling. "Ah, Miss Moonjade." Draco felt his cheeks warm at the mention of Trysten's name and cursed himself mentally. "What exactly is going on between you two, Draco?"

"Nothing," Draco answered calmly, knowing he wasn't lying…exactly.

"But you want to be," Snape suggested.

Draco felt his cheeks light once more. Blast! "Perhaps," he responded more calmly than he felt. "And what would it matter to you, Professor Snape?" Draco asked, not unkindly.

"Well it does concern my favorite student," Draco smiled at the compliment, "and my godson." (A/N: Yes, in this story, Draco is Snape's godson. I wanted to avoid it, but I couldn't find a better replacement for the line…)

Draco's smile was replaced by a playful scowl when Draco registered the implications of the sentence's end. "Trysten is close to you, then?

"You might say that, I suppose," Snape replied thoughtfully. "Charming girl, wouldn't you say?" Draco refused to answer, although he looked like he would like very much to agree. "Not 'Moonjade', then?" Snape smirked, poking fun at his godson's habit of using surnames instead of first names. Draco winced, realizing he had let her first name slip out. "Are you close to Trysten?"

As Draco drew in a breath to respond a familiar voice drifted in from the classroom, accompanied by hurried footsteps. "Sev, I really need to talk to you. My father-" Trysten Moonjade entered the doorway, faltering when she saw Draco sitting with the professor. "I'm sorry- I didn't know you had company, but…by gods, I really do need to speak with you, Severus. When you and Draco are through, find me immediately. Even if it's during class."

Draco watched with interest as Snape came to attention at the last statement. Apparently that's serious for her. Perhaps she's Ravenclaw.

Trysten's eyes alighted on the bottle of Firewhisky, then the glass in front of Draco. "Providing students with alcohol, Professor?" She asked sternly.

Definitely Ravenclaw.

"Miss Moonjade, I hardly think it-"

"And not giving me some?" Trysten concluded, smirking.

Or perhaps not.

When Severus made no move to get up, she reached over and poised the bottle to her lips. After looking to her professor for permission, she took a swig from the bottle. "Thank you. As I was saying, find me when-"

"Alright," Snape drawled, "who are you and what have you done with Trysten?"

The girl looked completely baffled. Looking over Severus suspiciously, she took another swig from the firewhisky. Halfway through her swallow, a look of epiphany graced her face. She looked from the bottle, to Severus, and back again. "Severus, could you honestly expect I wouldn't drink after news like- Oh. I suppose you couldn't, as you don't know the news." She paused for a moment, appearing to be in thought. She paled visibly and took a rather large gulp from the bottle before setting it down. "Do make sure I don't find that again, won't you, Professor?" Tapping her foot nervously, her eyes fell upon Draco. She stammered for a moment, blushing. "I'm sorry, Draco. I forgot my manners. I'll be going then."

As she made for the door, Severus rose to his feet. "Miss Moonjade," he called, "do you expect me to let you waltz in here, drink my liquor, and leave?"

The girl stopped and turned to face her professor, smirking. "Yes." Snape leveled her with a glare. "But if it means you'll help me, I suppose I could stay," she drawled playfully, putting her weight on one hip. Catching sight of Draco, she immediately straightened. "If it's alright with you, of course, Draco," she added timidly. Severus raised an eyebrow at her, and Trysten couldn't help but blush. She saw Draco nod thoughtfully and dug in her pocket, retrieving the letter she had received that morning. As she handed the folded parchment over to the professor, she murmured, "It's from Djawara." She saw his eyes widen fractionally but didn't comment on it. Sitting down in a nearby chair, she waited for Severus to finish.

She didn't have to wait long because a few moments after she sat down, Severus snapped, "Trysten, how in Merlin's name do you expect me to read this?"

Trysten looked at him, tilting her head slightly to the side in confusion. What is he on about? Djawara's handwriting is very nice. It flows nicely and— "Oh," she murmured, blushing as she realized her mistake. "It's in Arabic, isn't it?" Standing, she endured Snape's glare until she was at his side. Taking out her wand she said, "Linguis Translatum." She watched as the flowing script transformed into blocky English letters then went back to her seat, waiting for Snape to finish. After a moment of thought, she turned to Draco. "This is why you did that in Potions," she stated suddenly.

"What?" Draco studied her momentarily.

"You got in trouble during Potions so you could talk to Severus inconspicuously, right?"

Draco's gaze flicked to Severus before answering, "Yes, you're right."

The scene at the end of that morning's Potions class replayed in Trysten's mind. "I must say I didn't expect that strong of a reaction out of Harry. Are you alright?" She stood up and walked the few feet over to Draco. Kneeling beside his chair she examined his face. "You protected yourself pretty well," she commented. Coming across a purple-tinted area just above his left eyebrow she smiled sympathetically. "But you missed one." Giving him an apologetic look, she gently prodded the growing bruise, looking for its boundaries. After finding the extent of his bruising, she flashed a small smile and walked over to one of the cabinets. Taking out a small vile she walked back to Draco and knelt before him. Putting a small amount of the liquid on her fingers, she warned, "This may hurt a bit at first."

"But you missed one," the girl told him. Draco looked incredulously at her until she began to prod his forehead, a small tinge of pain becoming evident. He studied her as she worked meticulously. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, catching the glow of the candlelight in the small office. Her brows were furrowed as she diligently worked, adding a few years to her almost child-like appearance.

Beautiful, Draco thought, too absorbed to scold himself properly for the sentimental thoughts he was having. Trysten's slightly parted lips suddenly burst into a smile before she stood, walking across the length of the office. She returned a moment later, a small vile of blue liquid in her hand. Draco vaguely recognized it as a healing ointment as she spread it onto her fingers.

"This may hurt a bit at first."

Draco nodded slightly, a bit nervous as he had never used this particular ointment before. He looked into her eyes as she brought her hand to his forehead. Finding nothing to distrust he waited for her hand to make contact. As her slippery fingers touched the bruise Draco seethed, finding the pain he had felt earlier had multiplied by ten. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to end. The icy liquid was being spread over the damaged flesh, Trysten's fingers delicately massaging it into his skin. Shortly after being applied, the ointment began to warm, leaving Draco to bask in the intoxicating feeling of Trysten's cool fingers caressing his warm skin. Blissfully ignorant of the small smile adorning his face, Draco was brought back to reality when Trysten withdrew her hand. Realizing the soreness in his forehead was gone, Draco brought his hand up to feel the tender skin. "Thank you, Trysten," he murmured, finally letting his hand drop. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over his fingertips, feeling the ointment residue.

"Here, let me get that," she offered, bringing a small towel up to his face. Dabbing ever so lightly at his forehead, Draco felt the air hit his newly dried skin. "Sorry I didn't warn you," she told him, taking his hand in her towel-clad ones. She rubbed the cloth over each of his fingers to rid them of the ointment, causing a warm friction that brought a blush to both their cheeks.

"If you two are quite finished," Snape drawled, "I would like to know, Trysten, why you aren't a bit more upset about this." Trysten opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted before she could get a sound out. "Before you explain, Miss Moonjade, perhaps you should realize you are about to divulge this information to a third party." Draco glared at his godfather, who merely looked expectantly at the girl.

"Oh," she murmured. "Um…" She turned to Draco, then back to Snape, then looked at the hands in her lap. "How does Draco feel about the Dark Lord?" Trysten's voice asked in his mind, obviously directed toward Severus. He saw Snape's eyes flicker toward Draco, knowing he had heard Trysten's plea.

'The Dark Lord'? Draco asked himself with despair, spitting out the title. She doesn't support Voldemort, does she?

Draco was pulled from his reverie by a disdainful snort of his Godfather's, which Draco supposed to be an answer to Trysten's question. The girl looked contemplative for a moment, then she pulled her eyes to meet Severus' gaze. "It's alright. I trust him."

Despite Snape's skeptical sneer, Draco's heart felt as though it were flying. She trusts me?

"He can stay," Trysten stated aloud, still ignorant of the fact that Draco was a legimens.

Snape nodded regally. "In that case, I ask you again: Why are you not more upset about this news?"

"Well, I suppose it really depends on what news you mean," Trysten murmured.

"Well, let us go through the letter, shall we? First, why has this…Djawara implied it was unsafe to communicate with you previously?" Snape asked, referencing the parchment before him.

"My father would be…angry," she told them, the last word coming out as a whisper. Draco furrowed his brows, wondering at the implications of the word.

"Why wouldn't your father let you speak with Djawara?"

"Dja was 'impure'," Trysten spat, her anger burning in her eyes. "A 'disgrace'. A 'mudblood'." Draco got a chill listening to the sweet girl before him using these terms, words directly linked back to his father.

"I see. Then I take it these 'men clad in black' were-"

"Death Eaters. My father among them." Draco was intrigued by this, wondering what else the two students had in common.

"How long has your father followed Voldemort?" Snape asked.

"I'm not sure…fourteen years? Since before my mother died."

An awkward silence followed her statement, which Severus ended by clearing his throat. "He then followed… Aitor?"

"My father," Trysten supplied.

"Your father and the others to your old house in Cairo, listening in on their conversation. Listening in on conversations of Death Eaters?"

Trysten shrugged and smiled slightly. "He's always been good at that sort of thing," she explained. Her eyes had a slightly far away look to them so Draco assumed she was referring to a memory.

"Aitor mentioned you had been left in London at your Grandfather's house." The grim look on Trysten's face made neither Draco nor Severus want to dwell on the subject, so the professor continued. "And he went on to say that you came here."

"Which is the start of the problem," Trysten pointed out.

"How so?" Draco asked, feeling a bit out of place.

"Father shouldn't know where I am—he hasn't had contact with me since he left me here. Grandfather Sheltson signed everything, Father was never notified of anything, yet now he knows where I unexpectedly turned up.

Severus appeared to be in thought but quickly snapped out of it when he saw the two teens looking at him expectantly. "He then calls you… 'Baraka'?"

Trysten smiled, her eyes sparkling. "It means 'blessing' in Arabic. He always told me I was a blessing to him, but I think it was the other way around."

"It says here that Aitor mentioned coming to visit," Snape grimaced, as though he were regretful to take her out of her happy mood.

"Yes. And that I won't be at Hogwarts once he does." Trysten shivered at the thought and before Draco knew what he was doing, he had removed his cloak and put it around her shoulders.

"Then we'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen, now won't we?" Draco murmured, surprising himself with his compassion. At Trysten's slight smile and nod he returned to his seat.

"It then… mentions your mother."

Draco froze. A memory of Trysten's voice flitted through his head. "My mother is dead."

"I know," Trysten assured him softly.

"'Your mother wasn't killed in a sandstorm,'" he quoted, "'She was killed by Death Eaters.'"

"I know," she murmured.

Draco brought a hand up to massage his temple, finding the girl's story to parallel his own too closely.

"Trysten, if I may ask…why aren't you more upset about this?"

Trysten managed a weak smile. "I knew already."

"What?" Snape asked, taken off-guard.

"I was there when she was killed, I…I knew already," Trysten explained. Draco felt as though his heart was breaking when she managed to produce a pitiful smile through her newly shed tears.

"I…I see," Snape told her, though it was clear he didn't. "It mentions the author coming to Hogwarts."

"Yes," Trysten grinned. "Dja's coming."

(A/N: Sorry for the incredibly long wait—I had halfway through this chapter written and had to find time to both create and type the remainder of it, along with sort out some finicky details.

First order of business, review responses! Yay! …..Maybe only I like them.

PerfectByNature: I'm sorry you don't like the way I have created Harry, but you're not really supposed to like him all that much in this fic, so I suppose your response can be either a good thing or a bad one. Thanks for reviewing, I hope you continue reading despite Harry.

XeVanne: Ah, my most lovely and faithful reviewer. I love you, you know that? Sorry about the long wait, I hope the wait is shorter next time.

Zanathir: Firstly, I must say I love your penname. Quite elegant. Trysten is fully human, as far as I am aware, and I suppose you could call her paranoid. I mostly based her character off of me earlier in life, so I don't believe I am able to accurately psychoanalyze her. Thank you muchly for the compliments, and I hope you continue reading!

Second off, I have a request: I seem to be straddling the fence for a few issues in my story, and, if possible, I would love some recommendations.

Numero Uno: The man in the Forbidden Forest. Good, Evil, a mixture of both? Human, not? Enemy, friend, love interest?

Two: Trysten's father. When should he "visit"? Soon, after a long while, prevented/never?

Three: Any requests on how fast Draco/Trysten develops, if at all?

Four: Should Djawara merely drop in, or should he be here to stay? Although this may be easier to answer once he is actually introduced. We can see if you hate him, love him, or merely tolerate him.

Thanks again, and I hope to update soon!)