Chapter 17 – A Troubled Mind

Severus Snape was a wizard with more worries than most. His life was in danger, as were all those with whom he currently associated himself. He had to answer to Voldemort at every turn, and answer very carefully, knowing that so much as a word that inspired anything less than absolute confidence could ruin him further. Though graced with the occasional friendly nod and scattered words of thanks, he had received precious little in return for his deeds, but reflected bitterly that this was only to be expected.

At present, he was clinging to the one thing in his life that always gave him a sense of peace and tranquillity; the art of potions. A cauldron of simmering, pale green liquid stood before him, emitting brief spiralling threads of steam into the air. To this he was adding ground eucalyptus before stirring it slowly, three times in a clockwise motion, and removed it from the fire. He had brewed another cocktail to allow Draco Malfoy, the young wizard who still rested upstairs, to regain his strength. They had both endured a terrible ordeal, but what infuriated Snape was the fact that Draco had been involved at all. The boy was far out of his depth, initially seduced by the idea of following his father's footsteps in the Dark Lord's service, but now being forced to witness the grim reality of it all. The point of no return had been passed, and Snape had no intention of changing the path along which he now headed. As for Draco, there was only the hope that he would soon understand that which had to be done.

Progress had been made over the past week. The boy was now walking around a little, and was able to digest a decent meal. Fear, together with physical and mental scarring, had severely weakened him and even under Snape's care, it would take some time for him to fully recover. Each day, Snape had tried to answer his questions and impress upon him certain truths that he had been overlooking, and today would be no different. He took a small bottle of the potion and brought it to Draco's bedside. Draco was sitting up in bed, wearing an expression that suggested he was counting the knots in the wooden door in front of him as a distraction.

"It is time for you to hear more," murmured Snape, as Draco gulped down his medicine with the usual look of distaste, "I am still your teacher, and now you will be receiving the lessons that may very well save your life."

Draco snorted sceptically.

"My teacher? With all due respect, I can't see Hogwarts welcoming you back with open arms any time soon."

Snape gave him a dark, lingering stare, and was sure to speak with slow, heavy emphasis on every word.

"Kindly pay attention, Malfoy."

He sat down in a large armchair near the bed and ordered his thoughts.

"How do you feel about your service to the Dark Lord?" he finally asked.

Draco turned to him suddenly, as if startled by an explosion.

"How do you think I feel? He could still kill me any time he wanted! My parents could die too! A few days ago, I was almost ready to just poison myself and save him the trouble!"

"Listen to me, and take careful note," said Snape in a very deep and stern voice, "Taking your own life will not improve matters, not if you care one shred for the lives of your family. Besides which, what I meant was how did you feel upon receiving the Dark Mark?"

Malfoy stopped to consider this. How had he felt? Honoured? Awed? Or just frightened?

"I…it was only natural that I should serve him," he said weakly.

"You speak very lightly of such a decision," said Snape with a raised eyebrow, "I realise your parents would have been in grave danger had you refused, but surely there was more to it than that."

After a moment's thought, Draco stared back at him defiantly.

"It was because of the Dark Lord that my family has lived so comfortably all these years," he proclaimed, "He gave my father the wealth and influence that he has now, as a reward for his loyal service."

This took Snape very much by surprise. He fixed the boy with a pitiful stare and set about giving his first lesson.

"Who are you trying to convince of that, Mr Malfoy?" he said, and watched Draco's face fall into pure confusion, "Your family's wealth and estate were passed down through the generations, not handed to you on a plate by the Dark Lord. No, the reward your father was given for his deeds was the gift of fear. There was a certain power and influence that came with it, but fear was always at the root of it all."

He paused to watch what little colour there was drain from Draco's complexion before continuing.

"Am I to assume that your father has told you otherwise? Well, that would indeed make sense. It was fear that drew so many witches and wizards to Lord Voldemort's banner. By association, they would then be feared by others, that was the reward."

Draco still said nothing. He was not at all sure how to interpret this information, coming from a Death Eater.

"There was, of course, a good deal of foundation to it. After all, the Dark Lord has powers that few in the history of our world have ever possessed."

He leaned closer towards Draco and spoke with a tone of genuine concern.

"I do not believe that you understand how symbolic the Dark Mark really is. Those who step aside for him, or betray others for his benefit, would normally be doing so out of fear. But those serve him unprompted, and receive the Dark Mark, do so out of allegiance. That you did it to save your family is laudable, but there are consequences beyond your comprehension that must now be faced."

Draco's recent suffering had left his mind unguarded, and it proved very simple task for Snape to now use Legilimency against him. Inside, all he could see was a frightened young wizard who had been thrown into horror for which he wasn't prepared. Draco could feel the piercing gaze, and knew exactly what it meant, but could do nothing to prevent it. The mask of pretence was now lifted, and with a desperate sigh, his shoulders slumped, and he returned to looking as bad as he felt.

"Professer, what should I do?" he pleaded.

Snape stood up and turned to go, in the same earnest manner in which he had arrived.

"You will concentrate on restoring your health, and do whatever I or the Dark Lord should ask of you. It will be of no service to your parents if you should get yourself killed."

He turned as he reached the door.

"And prepare yourself as best you can. I feel that he will soon return, and when that happens, you will have to answer for yourself."

As he left the room, Draco pondered what all this could mean for him. He had lost track of time since being brought here, but imagined that if Hogwarts were to remain open, any students who had been permitted to go back would be doing so very soon. All of them would need their wits about them if they were to remain safe from harm, but this was where Draco felt a strong twinge of envy. For the time being, he would need his wits about him just to stay alive.