Draco Malfoy stood at his Head of House's office door, straightening his tie. A simple spell told him that he was still two minutes early.
At precisely one minute early, Draco Malfoy knocked on the door, and from inside, Severus Snape's sharp "Enter" emerged.
"Sit down, Draco," Professor Snape said, as he opened the door.
Draco sat softly in one of the hardbacked chairs that Snape generally used for people who sought an audience with him. They were harsh and unyielding - the perfect accompaniment to Snape's acerbic personality, just to further the unpleasantness, one supposes.
Snape strode behind Draco, seating himself in his highbacked leather chair (not cushioned, not for Snape. More a frame with leather interwoven rather than slats of wood.).
"Catch," Snape said, grabbing up a clear ball about double the size of a fist, and throwing it underhanded to Draco.
Draco caught it smoothly, and Snape nodded, looking his charge up and down. At last, Snape drawled, "So, a little bird tells me you've been wavering in your allegiances."
Caught offguard, Draco Malfoy lied by instinct, smoothly, "No, sir."
Severus Snape looked down his long nose at Draco, and said, "Look at that ball again, Malfoy." Draco did as told, nearly dropping the ball as it had turned jet black, swirling with inky mist inside. "A rather curious artifact that, one that darkens when its holder lies."
"Truth now, and be quick about it." Potion Master Snape said, and Draco Malfoy was reluctantly reminded that Snape knew more about the Dark Arts than nearly anyone he'd met - nearly as much as his father.
Draco Malfoy stared dumbly down at the sphere, rapidly resolving to an obsidian-like inky black shine. There was something here - something he wasn't seeing. Shocked, Draco Malfoy flung his eyes up at Snape - cutting off the Potion Master's own open, twisted mouth, "Potter. He told you." Draco Malfoy's eyes were wide. There had been a million and one things that Draco had imagined could be this year (half of which were probably pure fantasy), but of all things, an alliance between Potter and Snape was on the list.
"Go on, boy." Snape purred.
Draco Malfoy's brow had creased, and he was thinking back to what Snape had said, "What do you mean - allegiances?" he said, as if to himself.
Professor Snape had never been one to leave other's rhetorical questions alone, "Surely you realize that Potter and your father are not on the same side?"
Draco Malfoy's eyes got as wide as saucers, as he (very, very belatedly) began to think. He hadn't, really, thought of the consequences. Just gone plunging ahead, like some stupid Gryffindor. Glad as anything to have figured out the riddle... and maybe, the reason why there was a riddle in the first place.
Professor Snape had just implied that Lucius Malfoy was on Dark Lord Voldemort's side.
"I have been a fool." Draco Malfoy whispered, more to himself than to his teacher, though Severus Snape didn't miss a syllable.
"Fool or not, you've stepped into a tangled skein that's had more hands and years weaving than you could possibly imagine." Severus Snape purred, his velvet soft voice implacable as steel.
Draco Malfoy stared down at the blackened sphere, trying to see just exactly how many times he'd gone wrong. How could he possibly have been this blind? It felt like everything he'd been so proud of, had turned rotten - and with him standing on it besides, to the point where he feared he'd plunge into the abyss. Of course, Snape's abyssal eyes were reinforcing the allusion.
Professor Snape let him sit there, thinking, until he raised his eyes, looking steadily at his Head of House. "What should I do?"
"Surely you can't still believe that you can do one thing at school, and do another at home, do you?" Snape shook his head, his fine hair spraying everywhere, until with an impatient hand he brushed it back. "You must grow up or die."
Draco Malfoy looked at Snape's long, white fingers, curled gently around his wand. He had known, for years now, that Snape was a killer. That made his last statement less of a threat than a prediction he was entirely too capable of making come true.
"Choose One. Potter or your father." Snape said, his hand entirely unmoving on that stick that could more easily take Draco's life than fix it.
[a/n: More to this conversation to come! What do you think? Let me know in a review!
-This scene is why I didn't worry terribly much about the reader who forgot that Draco's 13, not 15 or 16. This is totally the sort of thing a thirteen year old does.]