"Why are you here, Malfoy?" After a moment of hesitation, McLaggen asked perplexedly.
Malfoy just stared at him for a few seconds and told him to sod off.
The huge blond head froze.
Hermione was tempted to laugh. She never knew this spoiled Malfoy could be so intimidating as Professor Snape that Cormac was utterly terrorized, retreating out of the curtain without a second word, with an oddly vacant look on his face.
Seldom had she paid close attention to Malfoy before, except for a few occasions when she thought he was up to something, so now Hermione blinked, feeling somewhat bewildered and curious. Ever since this term began, every time she spotted him, he became more reclusive, enigmatic and also much more intimidating, as if the one-time coward lion could turn into a fully-grown man over one night and was no longer merely a boy. She could hardly recognize this Malfoy. Perhaps he really was marked, and therefore exhibited so dramatic transition?
While numerous thoughts were roaming in Hermione's head, Malfoy opened the curtains, walked out, and was instantly dragged into the crowds by Professor Slughorn. Spotting Harry, Luna and Professor Snape standing in that group as well, Hermione moved toward them discreetly. Harry, while trying as he might to avoid the scathing look from Professor Snape, studied Malfoy narrowly with an odd expression on his face. Maybe he was also curious to know why Malfoy looked so pale and dreadful. Hermione picked up a bottle of wine from a nearby plate and sneaked up, so that she could hear their conversation.
"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to do," announced Harry defiantly.
"And a great one you'll make too!" boomed Professor Slughorn.
"I don't think you should be an Auror, Harry," broke in Luna unexpectedly. Everybody looked at her. "The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They're planning to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease."
Mead spurt out of Harry's mouth and almost everyone except Professor Snape was convulsed with laughter. Malfoy's lips quirked slightly. When he dragged a hand through his hair, Hermione saw with astonishment a blood stain on his cheek, and bruises on his fingers too.
How come Malfoy got hurt in school? He skipped both Charms and Potions today. What happened to him? Did he leave for some dangerous purpose?
Hermione's heart leapt as someone pushed her on the back. She squeaked, wine spilling all over her chest. People standing around all turned to look at her.
Hermione's face was flushed with embarrassment. Indignantly she turned around, only to find none was there, and mingling with the nearby crowd was a smirking Romilda Vane. Due to her recent crush on Harry, she had more than one time showed hostility against Hermione, who by her account "is always clinging to Harry and refusing to leave".
Well, Harry, this is your fault again. Only I am the one to suffer!
With much annoyance Hermione immediately pulled out her handkerchief from her pocket, but she hesitated, not mopping the mess away. The pure white cloth of the handkerchief felt as smooth as skin, and the crystals on the four corners were glistening elegantly. It looked too precious to wipe wine stains…
"Hermione!" Harry rushed to her rescue and dried up her dress with his wand. Hermione looked up gratefully, catching a glimpse of Professor Snape, who was pulling his gaze away from her, his sallow face stiff, sheer shock and anger hardly concealed in his eyes. He then turned abruptly and snatched Malfoy's arm.
"It's quite late, Professor Slughorn. I regret to say that we must make a leave. I'd like a word with Draco."
Malfoy turned his head aside, apparently unwilling to submit to his professor's command.
Professor Slughorn blinked at them. "Now, Severus," said Slughorn, hiccuping again, "it's Christmas, don't be too hard –"
"I am his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be with students." replied Snape curtly. "Follow me, Draco." He dragged Malfoy out.
Hermione exchanged a confusing look with Harry, but was once again distracted by Slughorn's harangue.
As the office door shut with a bang, Snape cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door instantly. With an annoyed tsk, he continued waving his wand, "Protego totalum … Muffliato …" together with a couple of other detecting and warning spells.
"I don't understand, Professor …" his arm aching from Snape's previous clutches, Draco grunted sullenly, but his protest was dismissed by Snape, who carried diligently on with his spells, not satisfied until the office was totally impenetrable and impregnable.
Snape flounced toward the sofa beside the mantelpiece, sat down, and asked slowly as his dark eyes gazing at Draco. "Where is your Book of Memory, Draco?"
As if struck by lightning, or paralysed by dozens of Full Body-Bind Curses, Draco was so dumfounded that he could not feel even his own fingers. Had Snape accused him of betraying the Dark Lord, he would not be more shocked.
"I've no idea what you are talking about." Seconds later Draco replied through gritted teeth. He glared into Snape's eyes savagely.
"Don't play dumb!" snapped Snape. With a stern expression, he continued slowly. "The Book of Memory belongs to the Malfoy heir since his birth, and must be carried with himself thereafter, representing the honour and nobility of the most ancient House of Malfoy. Draco, don't tell me you are not aware of its significance."
In the moment of dead silence, all Draco could hear was his own heaving breathing and fast heartbeat. How could he not be aware of that? Made from numerous precious magical materials, woven with his lanugo to form a particular memory function, and with corners adorned with four magical crystals, it was the greatest blessing from the Malfoy family. It certified him as the heir, recorded his life, and would be the solidest proof when his offspring wrote biography for him after his death. Other than his own life, the most valuable thing he owned was the Book of Memory. This was a secret shared only among the heads and heirs of the Malfoy family. He had not thought it possible that anyone would discover it, yet why was Snape questioning him now?
"I hope you can give me a reasonable explanation as to how it came into Miss Granger's possession."
How was he to explain it? The Book of Memory could never be stolen or taken away. The only circumstance when it was found on others would be a result of the owner's willingly giving which, as a matter of fact, was forbidden, and therefore the meaning of it – he would not risk letting Snape know!
"You seem to have known a lot," Draco looked up and replied with a sneer. Under his sleeve his gripped his wand tightly, as he weighed the feasibility of Obliviating or murdering Snape. "Where did you come by this piece of knowledge by the way? The Dark Lord couldn't know, neither could my mother. Professor Snape, I am also in need of a reasonable explanation."
"Move your hand from your wand, Draco," leaning back on the sofa, Snape's black robes seemed to have blended into the shadows, and only his face was lit by the beaming firelight. "Your father told me before his imprisonment."
"Why did he tell you?" Draco's eyes widened with astonishment. "How could he tell you?"
"Because he wasn't sure he would make it out of Azkaban alive. Narcissa was not entitled to know, and yet you were too young. He worried that if he died, you would probably freak out, forgetting all about it." Snape held up one finger to stop Draco's retort and continued. "Hence I, as the only friend he had some trust in, was made a trustee by Lucius in accordance with the Malfoy custom, for fear that his life story would bury into oblivion."
"He would rather trust it with a friend, than with his own son." Draco bit his lips bitterly.
"I must say that your recent performance is quite satisfying. As the Dark Lord put it, 'I can see you've grown up'. Should Lucius see you as you are now, he might no longer need me as a trustee." With a rare gentleness Snape comforted him. "So get rid of your unnecessary hostility toward me, and let us speak up as grown-ups. Draco, I'm only trying to help you."
Draco stared down at Snape's eyes. Maybe Snape was being serious, but his father trusting him did mean he could trust him – Telling truth to Snape was as much as telling him he was not following the Dark Lord faithfully. Draco clenched his teeth and inhaled sharply.
"Thank you, but I don't need it." said Draco coldly.
"What is it that you don't need?" Abruptly Snape straightened up from the sofa, eyeing him closely in fury. "You don't need me to assist you? Or you don't need me to know why Granger has your Book of Memory? Legilimens!"
Shite.
He had not anticipated, or subconsciously, had not thought it possible that Snape would do anything to him, so his guard was down. He didn't even have the chance to put up his Occlumency shield … Draco was thrown off-balance and fallen onto the sofa. Everything surrounding him vanished; image after image broke free out of control, racing rapidly through him mind.
Standing in a long queue, as Professor McGonagall called out "Granger, Hermione!" holding a long roll of parchment, an eleven-year-old boy watched a little girl with bushy brown hair running to the stool, sneering with Goyle at her large front teeth, while secretly finding her rather cute …
A twelve-year-old boy lounged in the corner of the library eating chocolates, when Hermione together with several other girls were sitting on the other side of the bookshelf chatting about boys. On hearing her comment on him that he was "a superciliously Pompous, self-asserting, spoiled brat, though pretty", he forgot all about chocolates, and could not resist snickering to himself.
At the age of thirteen, when he was jeering at Hagrid and Buckbeak, Hermione dashed over and slapped him hard across the face. As he retreated, covering the face while glaring at her, somehow his heart was not filled with rage, but felt hollow inside.
At the age of fourteen … At the age of fifteen … At the age of sixteen, he rushed over the snow-covered ground fearfully, covered her with his own body, and were then hurled together by the explosion … He put his Book of Memory outside the classroom door, murmuring that he would protect her, that the most regrettable thing he did in his life was calling her "Mudblood"…
Six years was neither too long, nor too short, when his happiness and sorrow were inextricably entwined. The pain brought up by the deeply buried memory was starting to resist Snape's intrusion …
Draco raised his wand.
"Protego!"
Hit by the Shield Charm, Snape staggered backward, his wand flying sideways. All of a sudden, Draco's mind was teeming with foreign memories and visions.
Snape stumbled into a damaged house, finding in the middle of the room lying a woman, whose green eyes blank and empty, long red hair cascading down the ground …
Snape kneeled before Dumbledore, wailing … "Keep her – keep them safe. Please." "And what will you give me in return, Severus?" "In – in return?" … "Anything." …
A teenager Snape struggled to his feet, a bespectacled boy with raven hair standing in front of him, surrounded by a bunch of students jeering and laughing. Anger and shame beyond control, Snape shouted at a girl with red hair and green eyes, "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!" …
Draco was totally shaken when he realised he had uncovered such a taboo.
Snape hit him heavily in the arm; his wand flew out of his hand. All the images around him evaporated.
The two men lay respectively on the opposite sofa, panting heavily, eying each other with a menace of murder. It was hard to say who had greater malice.
Snape's lips were quavering and his face was white as sheet. Draco knew he could not be any better. The room once again fell into dead silence. Fire was crackling steadily in the fireplace, and at the same time danger emotions were boiling up, waiting to erupt just like an active volcano. Time passed. Suddenly, covering his eyes with the back of his hand, Draco roared with laughter.
"Ha ha … ha ha … ha ha ha ..."
"What are you laughing at!" snapped Snape.
"What am I laughing at? Only two idiots with their mind full of 'Mudbloods' …"
Just like his carelessness, Snape too dropped his vigilance. As Snape had witnessed his most guarded memory, he also had had a glimpse of Snape's due to the rebound in Legilimency. Those were but fragments, yet the secret betrayed was so alarmingly similar to his own. When grey eyes met black ones, they both seemed to decipher the pain underneath, boiling night and day, a torment that could be shared to no one.
They looked away, breaking the eye contact. Neither had the desire to ridicule the other. Both had lost the right to accuse anyone.
Who the woman in Snape's memory was Draco did not know, but now at least he knew Severus Snape had always been working for the Order of Phoenix. He marvelled that the sinister man should have the gut to become a double agent under the very noses of the Dark Lord – which was a relief to him, for he no longer needed to be so careful around him as he had been.
To these Slytherins, what trust could be better built upon than having something on each other?
"Get out," hissed Snape. His cold fury might be able to knock over any other student. "Breathe what you saw to no one."
"The same to you, Professor." replied Draco icily, before fetching his wand and stowing it in his pocket.
Draco felt utterly exhausted. One with an iron will would have also been worn out after so many strikes during one day. He stumbled to the door, opened the door and then hesitated.
"My Book of Memory. I'm not taking it back."
The heavy door closed. Footsteps died away and silence fell. At last, the man in the room spoke in a whisper.
"I understand."