Draco Malfoy stared at the blackened ball, the sparkles and swirls not helping his concentration in the slightest. Still, he eventually took a deep breath, and started to drain his frustration with himself into the ground at his feet. In. Out. In. Out.

Could he... was he really...? Could he even dare contemplate fighting the Dark Lord? It seemed a relentless, daunting task. The sort of thing... Draco's breath caught in his lungs, turning icy cold, The sort of thing he could almost see Severus Snape doing, hardbitten killer that he was. Was that Snape's game?

Before his nerve (or his inquisitiveness) could fail him, Draco resolutely set the entire matter to the side. He wanted to know, firmly, whether or not he could be on his father's side. On the Dark Lord's side. Oh, sure, there was the small matter of knowing about where Potter was - that point actually worked in his favor, Draco thought, as that would be a quick way to the Dark Lord's favor.

His mind conjured his last recollection of Bellatrix Black, haggard, thin and raving. Sirius Black, wherever he was, looked almost worse - that grim look in his eye had always promised a quick death. At least Bottomlong's parents were nearly comatose. His relatives were nightmare fuel.

And the Dark Lord had left them there, to rot.

Wherever he was, he was clearly enough of a present danger that Dumbledore (Snape?) was hiding Harry Potter. Was, definitely, training him in unexpected ways.

And yet... he hadn't done a thing for his followers, abandoned in the dark depths of Azkaban. Draco had seen them, twisted wretched hulks, thin as corpses.

No.

Draco Malfoy could not serve a master that cruel and uncaring. Prison, certainly, would not agree with him. It would drive him mad - the other Blacks were proof of that. Even his father (from his brief stay) had his dark days, when his vision clouded over, and he didn't understand.

Draco Malfoy could not imagine a worse fate, than not even knowing that you lived, trapped in a loop, experiencing over and over again your worst moments, worst memories.

He'd rather die.

And, perhaps he would, fighting against the Dark Lord. But, for all of that, at least it would be clean. At least he'd know his death, not go trodding into the afterlife convinced that he had yet more days to die, dooming himself to an unquiet restless sleep for all of eternity.

"I choose Potter." Draco Malfoy said at last, confident as he looked into his godfather's impatient eyes.

"So be it." Snape said, habitually giving not a shred of emotion to his voice. "Congratulations, you've just won me fifty galleons."

"Fifty?" Draco Malfoy said, startled, looking at Snape with renewed attention. "How?"

"The rest of the teachers and I placed a bet, ten galleons apiece, on which house the first student to discover Potter would belong to." Snape shook his head, letting his fine hair flow over his features, before he pushed it back behind his ears. "You can imagine my surprise when I learned of your discovery, his very first day in school." Draco Malfoy felt his breath freeze inside of him again, Luna - no wonder she'd not wanted to be involved, not in the slightest. She knew? Sort-of? Knowing enough to know not to look is a very curious form of knowing.

Snape folded his long fingers together, and looked at his godson, "Draco, I have an assignment for you. You say you want to be on Potter's side."

"I do, sir." Draco Malfoy said flatly, his voice laved clean of emotion.

"How will you help?" Snape said. He gave Draco Malfoy enough time to nod, before proferring his hand, and asking, "Oh, give me that bauble back, would you?"

"Bauble, sir?" Draco Malfoy said, looking at the sphere in his hand.

"You didn't really believe me when I told you it could sense lies, now did you?" Snape had that smug look that Draco generally exulted in (but which felt substantially more upsetting when it was being used on Draco himself).

"Sir?" Draco said, "Yes, sir?" He kept his response short and sweet. It wouldn't stop the mockery, but would minimize it.

"Eloquent as a Gryffindor. You'll fit in just nicely." Snape said, "It turns dark when warmed, nothing more. You are dismissed"

Draco Malfoy wanted to curse, and did as soon as he left the office, kicking at the wall until his stubbed toe smarted.

[a/n: And, the game's afoot! Luna knows what she doesn't know, and knows enough to not poke deeply into things she shouldn't know.

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I must confess, I've gotten kind of sick of all the "Draco Malfoy has a change of heart and knows his father's words are rubbish" fics, so I'm doing something different. A rational decision to switch sides, motivated entirely by fear and cold assessment of both sides. (yes, Draco thinks - accurately - that Potter wouldn't leave him to rot in prison).

Draco is taking Snape's reputation a bit more seriously than he ought. Snape would have simply obliviated him (hence why the comment to Potter). ]