Do No Evil?

A meeting of minds
POV: Snape

I've been of the belief that there is nothing in this world left to astonish me.

I was wrong.

Minerva sent a summons about an hour ago, calling me to her supervisor's office overlooking the prefect meeting room. To my knowledge, only the head boy and girl know of its existence, allowing McGonagall to observe prefect meetings without her austere presence stemming the spontaneous exchange of student ideas. It now appears that at least one other select student has been made aware of the secret nest above the room.

Upon my arrival, I am treated to a bird's eye view of a gathering of a most unlikely trio, a meeting of minds that I would never have believed possible had I not witnessed it for myself. Before I can settle into my seat to observe the strange spectacle, however, the deputy headmistress has a quick sit down with me to explain my presence.

"Now, Severus," Minerva begins, "Hermione Granger is aware of our surveillance. She came to me earlier this week with concerns for Draco Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy has made Miss Granger and Ron Weasely aware of a rather dangerous situation in which he finds himself entangled."

I feel my frown of displeasure form as she speaks. Why hadn't the boy come to me for assistance instead of running his mouth off to Granger and Weasley, possibly the least equipped of The Order's members able to help him?

"Severus," McGonagall continues, "Miss Granger and I are of the same mind that Mr. Malfoy's distress might be somewhat relieved if you were to take a more active role in assisting him."

"I assure you, Minerva, I am already helping the younger Mr. Malfoy in every capacity allowable to me considering my precarious situation," I say cautiously, unsure of what she might suggest I do.

"Severus, from what I've gathered from Miss Granger, I do believe Mr. Malfoy is no longer in complete allegiance with his father and is open to new ideas," her nasally voice reaching the higher tone she usually reserves for students about to receive high marks in her Transfiguration class. "He, however, is without guidance. I believe that it is perhaps time that Mr. Malfoy is made aware of other, more noble, Slytherin men whom he might model himself after."

I consider my colleague and counterpart in the Order of The Phoenix.

"Exactly what would you have me do, Minerva?" I ask tonelessly.

"I ask you to watch the events below," McGonagall says, revealing even less emotion than me. "Miss Granger will touch her throat and look up toward us. This indicates the point at which she'd like us to closely watch her and her companions. When you see her touch her throat again, it is meant as an open invitation for you to join them. Whether you do so or not is up to you, Severus."

I nod my understanding. I turn and look down to observe a developing relationship that would never have occurred had it not been for Dumbledore's brilliant puppeteering. From my seat, I have an unobstructed view of Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Weasley in the room below. By the looks of things, the prefects are just adjourning their meeting.

Once the room empties of all others, I take careful survey of the space, discovering that Potter is noticeably absent. The blond and redhead have their backs to me. Granger, who is now touching her throat as though playing with an invisible necklace, looks up to meet my curious gaze.

"Malfoy, don't you think it's time you tell us what's going on exactly?" Granger inquires, her voice echoing in the near vacant room. She twines her fingers together on the top of the table the three share. It appears she is stopping herself from reaching out to the green-and-silver clad boy.

"What's Weasel doing here?" my godson grouses, his eyes averted to his lapel, picking off a non-existent piece of lint.

"You might recall I was there when you were crying about being alone and not having anywhere to turn," comes Weasley's somewhat gruff, but clearly concerned reply. "Despite our less than friendly history with you, Hermione and I won't stand by and do nothing while you so cavalierly waltz to your death. Whether you want this or not, Ferret, we're in this together."

Draco releases a humorless laugh, casting both Gryffindors a dubious look.

"There are always options, Malfoy," Weasley continues, undaunted, "and contrary to your Slytherin sensibilities, we are two people in your life, without ulterior motives, willing to help you."

I watch my prized pupil turn to give Weasley a look of pure Malfoy disdain before arrogantly belittling his companions.

"What exactly do the both of you think you're playing at? We aren't discussing how to rid ourselves of trolls and giant spiders here," Draco's voice has deepend a notch in his condescension. His usually controlled, emotionless demeanor is gone. His hand moves wildly between Potter's two friends as he seethes. "Neither of you have witnessed the sort of senseless evil I've seen exercised in my own home only months ago! In fact, Potter, and even the She-weasel, have more experience with this demented Riddle character than the likes of you two. I have no intention of involving you neophytes in this. Your blind willingness to be a part of this is ludicrous!"

The redhead clenches his teeth while Granger visibly tenses as Draco unintentionally discounts their largely unseen but immense roles in helping Potter stay alive all these years.

Miss Granger pauses to gather her wits before responding.

"What if we told you that there is a far better model than the both of us to help you deal with this life-threatening situation?" she suggests, surprisingly calm, considering her usual propensity toward contrariness involving anything my godson has to say.

She casts a nervous glance upward at me and again touches her throat.

It becomes immediately clear that she wants me to decide whether or not I will reveal my involvement in the Order of the Phoenix to Draco.

My mind travels to the vow I have with Lady Malfoy, using my own life to shield and protect her son. I think of how much Draco has come to represent the Slytherin I'd wished to be when I had been a Hogwarts student myself. I feel for him now as he finds himself at a crossroads, faced with the decision to become an imitation of his father or to shape himself into an entirely new man. I feel a wry smile form at my lips and feel an unfamiliar welling of pride in my chest as I view him now, so unlike Lucius, and so in need of a guiding hand to help him along this untested path toward a different sort of Malfoy manhood.

I feel Minerva's watchful eye and think also of the bushy-haired young witch below. I wonder what would have become of Draco, and even me, had it not been for such bloody interfering Gryffindor witches.

Coming at last to my pivotal decision, I move swiftly to my feet. My ears perk to young Malfoy's continued protestations as I place my hand on the door handle.

"If you're meaning Dumbledore, Granger, I refuse to go to him with this!" I hear the Slytherin shout as I leave the small, hidden room to rush downstairs. I push open the heavy classroom door and catch the tail-end of Draco's both fearful and furious exclamations.

"-- asking of me! If there was even the remotest indication that I had spoken to the Headmaster, my mother's life will come to a torturous end! I will not place her in that sort of peril! I will not entertain such a foolhardy risk!"

Finally making my way inside, I am greeted with Miss Granger's grateful, withering smile.

"Professor!" the three exclaim in unison, coming to instant standing attention.

I note the horrified expression on my godson's face and the outright surprise in Weasley's.

"Granger, Weasley, Draco," I say unperturbed, moving quickly to cast a Muffliato.

"Sir! I was--"

"Draco, sit down," I command, interrupting what would likely be a pathetic, though I'm sure creative, explanation for being in a room in the company of these two. I make an impatient gesture toward a nearby bench and wait impatiently as the other two take their cue and join the haggard Slytherin, who seems frantically intent on discovering a means of escape.

"Miss Granger is in the right of things, Draco," I say, for the first time allowing some gentleness in my tone. I know this allows a minuscule crack in the veneer of the reputation I'd so carefully cultivated as one of the most despicable teachers at Hogwarts.

"P-Pardon, Professor?" stutters the usually self-confident blond.

I clear my throat meaningfully and meet his confused stare straight on.

"There is some information about myself that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley believe you should know," I cast a stray glance at the other two now staring owlishly at me. "I believe this knowledge that I am willing to share with you now will assist you in deciding which side you will fight on from here on out."

Draco's mercurial gaze reflects his confused state. His mouth is still downturned.

"I am more than what I have allowed you to see, Draco," I say carefully. "Among us Slytherins, the smartest know to keep our friends close, but the most cunning among us learn quickly to keep our enemies closer."

My godson nods and appears to be toying with the message hidden in my statement. I wait for him to speak.

"So, Professor," Draco asks after a period of prolonged silence, "is my father your friend or is he your foe?"

I raise an eyebrow at my protègè.

"Your father is not someone I would count among my friends, Draco."

The boy's physical response is interesting. Instead of slumping, he straightens in his chair. I can almost see the machinations in his head as he finally comes to the only conclusion that might explain why I am with the three of them and not serving all of them life-long detentions for simply being caught alone in a room together.

"Do you mean to suggest, Sir, that you are secretly working against... against Voldemort?!" Malfoy at last gasps. Draco is a sharp one and it seems he's managed to piece most of my story together without me having to spell it out for him. It's at times like these that I truly appreciate the very Slytherin-ness of this boy.

I watch Draco grip the bench, seeming to steel himself against the shock of the words he expects I will bestow on him, another revelation that's sure to turn his understanding of right and wrong upside-down.

"I am not making a mere suggestion, Draco. I am telling you that I have been working against the Dark Lord for some time."

Granger smiles in relief as Weasley gapes. My godson makes instant eye contact with me and refuses to let go. I see both betrayal and the tiniest spark of hope in his stormy gaze. I purse my lips and make a decision I hope I will not regret.

"Now you know, Draco, and I do believe it is time that we make everything known to Professor Dumbledore."

Nothing's an accident...
POV: Hermione

The tension is thick in the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore calmly feeds Fawks some tidbit or another. He appears completely unruffled by our intrusion.

We three students sit shoulder-to-shoulder in straight-backed chairs. Snape and Dumbledore stand before us. The blond to my left hasn't stopped shooting daggers at his greasy-haired godfather since leaving the prefect meeting room.

Despite Snape having exposed his role with The Order, there is open refusal, and a fair amount of confusion, still plastered all over the ferret's defiant face.

"Tell the Headmaster what you know, Mr. Malfoy."

This is Snape's third reiteration of the same request and it no longer resembles the gentle prodding he'd given Malfoy upon us being welcomed into Dumbledore's office.

Ron and I sit silently, scarcely breathing. I try to hide all emotion as I watch the face-off between Snape and Malfoy. At last, the Slytherin beside me lets out a dramatic sigh. The sound heightens the tension in the room and has me quelling the urge to smack him for his surly attitude.

"Headmaster, I am here at the behest of my godfather, Professor Snape," comes Malfoy's overly polite tone, spoken through clenched teeth which emphasizes his continued refusal to comply with Snape's orders. "My godfather has done precious little to assure me that my presence in this office will not put my parents in mortal danger, therefore, I remain unconvinced that speaking to you will serve my family well."

Though this must be an absolute bizarre set of circumstances for him, Malfoy musters up just enough aristocratic haughtiness to give both professors pause. Perhaps this is the ferret's coping mechanism when backed against a wall by his superiors.

"I told you the reason for this meeting, Draco," Snape curtly interjects. "Since you decided to involve these two, this is the most sensible option available to us now!"

Snape casts a most scathing glare at Ron and myself. His exasperation is palatable. We squirm uncomfortably under his dark-eyed scrutiny. Apparently, Snape hadn't bargained on Ron's and my involvement in helping Malfoy out of his still-undefined predicament.

Malfoy does not appear at all placated by Snape's less than comforting explanation about why he is being asked to divulge his deepest and darkest secrets to Dumbledore.

"He better do a bloody hell of a lot better than this to convince me to say another damn thing," Malfoy mutters under his breath.

It looks as though Snape is consciously keeping himself from rolling his eyes at the boy beside me. It also seems as though everyone in the room clearly heard Malfoy's rude and outright defiance of Snape's command.

Through it all, the Headmaster smiles benignly.

Clearly unnerved by his ward's behavior, Snape strides angrily to the middle of the room. I inch away from Malfoy as Snape bends menacingly toward the blond, placing his hands on either side of him, curling his talon-like fingers on the chair's arms.

I tense, truly frightened for Malfoy.

"This is your story to tell, Draco," Snape says in the sinister manner he usually reserves for Harry. The young Slytherin's eyes darken to pewter, his eyebrows knit, disliking this new tone. "I sincerely hope you do not force me to do the telling. Explain yourself to the Headmaster, Draco. Now!"

"Professor Sna-," I begin, earnestly sorry I'd ever thought to involve him. I try not to curl into myself as Snape slowly turns his head, barely acknowledging my undesired presence.

"Granger, I do not need you to fight my battles for me." Malfoy's sardonic voice reaches my ear before I can finish. It is the ferret's obnoxious tone that evaporates my desire to protest against the abuse I thought I'd unintentionally leveled on him by involving Snape.

It is not lost on me, however, that though his words might imply Malfoy still possesses his unique brand of arrogant self-confidence, his inability to look beyond the hands in his lap for any length of time indicates he is not unmoved. The silence after his admonishment of me is more than uncomfortable.

"Clearly, Granger," Malfoy continues, twisting the fingers of both his hands around one another, "my godfather is supremely annoyed that I might have put his life in further danger by telling you and Weasley about the problems that continue to keep me up at night."

Snape continues to stare darkly at his favored student.

"And what has brought on your bout of insomnia, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore inquires gently, speaking for the first time since we've entered his space.

"Headmaster, I can't tell you... my mother..."

"Your mother is helping me, Draco," Snape offers impatiently. The three of us stare at him in open-mouthed shock. Professor Dumbledore appears to wear the tiniest of smiles.

I am not the only one who notices how Malfoy's baleful gaze momentarily falls upon Snape once he's recovered from the unexpected declaration. Seems he's at last made up his mind to follow orders to speak.

"Professor, there are two tasks set before me by the Dark Lo--, by v-Voldemort. The first task is to restore the gateway between Borgin and Burkes through the vanishing cabinets." Malfoy admits this hesitantly, darting a questioning look at Snape, who gives him what I can only surmise is meant to be an encouraging nod. "This will allow Death Eaters a passage into Hogwarts."

Malfoy's head is bowed. I fail to quell an outraged gasp. How dare he and Snape manipulate me into participating in this diabolical attempt at a hostile takeover of Hogwarts!

"The second, Sir," Malfoy continues reluctantly, his pale fingers threading and re-threading as he makes his quiet confession, "I regret to inform you, Professor, that Voldemort requires that I... I... I kill you."

Sitting to my right, Ron grabs at my hand. The both of us don't bother to hide how appalled we are at Malfoy's final anguished proclamation.

Snape places his hand on his godson's shoulder as Malfoy haltingly speaks the rest. "If I don't accomplish what is set before me, Sir, I fear for my mother's life, more so now with this bit of news from Professor Snape. If I fail, my father will most likely experience a dementor's kiss, though he might have to undergo that horror even if I..." his bravado fails him as his last words are inaudible. He heaves another sigh and regains his voice. "If it gets out that I've told you any of thi...."

We all wait silently for him to continue. He does so after releasing a fearful, ragged breath.

"Either way, Professors, I know Voldemort is convinced I will die in my attempt to please him. It is His way of punishing my father. It is the expected outcome if I am to protect my parents from a similar fate. You should, however, be aware that I have been trying to disentangle Granger from this mess for weeks now."

Malfoy bothers to shoot me a nasty look for continuing to pepper him with my furious requests to be reinstated on the project.

I open my own mouth to argue but am quickly silenced with a quelling look from the Headmaster. This leaves me to wonder at his measured reaction to the Malfoy's chilling divulgences. Dumbledore appears neither shocked, nor appalled. My eyes round as his wizened face cracks in a rather genial smile aimed at Malfoy. I frown as the Headmaster's hand reaches out to us, jiggling a glass candy dish. I quickly put a staying hand on Ron's arm as he attempts to pluck up one of the goodies.

"Lemon drop, Mr. Malfoy?"

"P-pardon, Sir?!" The shock on Malfoy's face is almost laughable had it not been so awkward a segue from his alarming admission. There is a stunned silence during which Fawkes squawks a demand for more food bits.

"Are you not afraid for your life, Professor?" I finally burst out, unable to stay quiet while the others continue to gape.

All eyes turn to me and I flush at the attention.

"You are here, Miss Granger, of your own choosing," Dumbledore's piercing stare meets mine. "I should ask you, are you not afraid for yours?"

I am taken aback at his use of the Socratic method. Then I make the startling awareness that I cannot hide anything from this wizard. His penetrating gaze informs me that he knows everything about me.

I dare to attempt to hold the Headmaster's gaze, but am the first to falter. I turn away with a small pout for my weakness of being unable to stand up to authority.

Fine! Point taken.

"She's right!" Malfoy suddenly shouts in an eruption of emotion. "For Merlin's sake, you should all be deathly afraid! What in blazes is wrong with all of you?! You're putting your blind faith in a 16-year-old boy who has only a scarred forehead to speak for his ability to rid us of the most powerful dark wizard to walk the earth!? Even I know more about neutralizing dark magic than Potter does!"

Dumbledore stands and Malfoy quiets.

"There is only one thing that can fight against the sort of dark power Tom Riddle wields," says Dumbledore interrupting Malfoy's rant with an unusually strong voice that seems to hold some reprimand. "You, Draco, do not yet possess this power. You are correct, however, that there is much to fear. Yet, the potential threat you pose to my life, though troubling, is not among my most pressing concerns."

Obviously offended, Malfoy's eyes narrow.

"I got this far, didn't I, Professor?" Draco says bitingly. "They thought I'd die in the attempt to accomplish even this much. But I fixed it... with Granger's help, admittedly. But now, all that's left..."

I frown at the sound of my name and end up scowling at Malfoy for nearly forgetting to credit me with most of the work that will apparently serve to save his sorry hide.

"I have been aware of your tasks, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore says, sitting back in his chair. "Miss Granger's assistance in your endeavor is not an accident, nor is your presence here with Professor Snape unexpected. It seems to me that you are standing at a fork in the road. One choice could illuminate your darkest fears and perhaps even dispel them."

I watch Malfoy scowl as he takes in this information. I feel my own mouth tighten to mirror his.

Professor Dumbledore smiles indulgently at Malfoy again. I continue to fume as I realize the indignity of unknowingly being used as some sort of brainy pawn in Dumbledore's complicated gameplay.

"I've come to the conclusion, Draco, that you must continue as you have been, just as though this conversation had never occurred."

There is a look that passes between both Dumbledore and Snape that the blond misses because of the inner turmoil which has him staring at the floor.

"But, Headmaster, I..." Malfoy's protests fade when at last he looks up to view the two older men before him.

"You are not the first to be presented with such an opportunity, Mr. Malfoy," states Dumbledore. When Draco turns to stare at Snape, I feel the Headmaster's gaze upon me as he speaks his next words, "Nor will you, I imagine, be the last."

I take a moment to stare quizzically at the Headmaster. He turns away and I shift my focus onto Malfoy who is now quite unlike himself. I watch him allow Dumbledore's confirmation of Snape's role with The Order wash over him. His hands tightly grip his chair. His head is bent, eyes downcast. A lone tear threatens to fall as he considers what is being offered to him. He angrily wipes it away.

To my left, sitting beside me, is Ron. I study the muscles in his jaw work as he silently watches his former adversary take in all this.

"The choice is before you, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore gently observes. "As you contemplate which way to go, take comfort in knowing that you are not destined to become what you have only known all your life. What matters most, Draco, are the choices you make today that will ultimately shape who you are to become tomorrow."

The confusion and apprehension in Malfoy's silver gaze is nearly painful to observe.

"But, Sir, you just said that I am to continue on as I have been. Do you mean to ask that I work as some sort of double-agent for you? How can you believe that I have the ability to keep up such a pretense?" The pitch of Malfoy's tone heightens with each posed question. "Do you understand, Professor, that you are asking me to work with some of the most feared Death Eaters, faking that I still intend to bring you to your ultimate end? You do realize this is what Riddle wants me to do to you if I am to preserve my family's safety?"

Malfoy lets out an unfamiliar sound, much like a whimper, and distractedly rakes his fingers through his now unruly hair. I am reminded of his wretched helplessness in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"May I ask, Headmaster, how in Merlin's name am I to manage such a feat?"

There is a miniscule up tilt to the Headmaster's lips as he witnesses Malfoy's distress.

"Professor Snape will instruct you on such matters. Understand, Mr. Malfoy, this must be something you come to willingly. As far as all of us in this room are concerned, your task, as given to you by Tom Riddle, has not altered in the least. Think it over, Draco, and do let me know by this time tomorrow what you've decided to do."

Dumbledore then rests his gaze on Ron and me. "This discussion will not leave this room," and with a stern tone he adds, "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, you will keep these proceedings from Mr. Potter. Draco deserves as much discretion and security in this matter as that which has been afforded Harry."

He waits for us to agree. I half worry that he'll insist on a Vow of Confidentiality. But as soon as Ron and I nod our assent, Professor Dumbledore turns his back to us.

It's a clear indication that this peculiar meeting is now over.

Too many lemon drops
POV: Draco

After a nearly three hour meeting with Snape that lasted late into the night, and then another one earlier this afternoon, I arrive in the Headmaster's office within twenty minutes of my appointed time. I've chosen to follow Snape because I've always reluctantly admired him and for whatever reason this choice makes me feel less confused. Even though I'm completely flummoxed by recent events, the one thing that hasn't changed is my realization that I am increasingly at odds with my father's whole Pureblood belief system. I am particularly infuriated that he'd allowed himself to be at the beck and call of that half-blood, Riddle.

The Headmaster regards me benevolently. Before he can ask about my decision, I insist that a written contract be drawn up, guaranteeing that so long as I follow Snape's lead, my family will be given the same level of protection as the Weasleys and Grangers. I also ask for his guarantee that my new role will not be shared outside of the people involved in the initial meeting.

Though there is the obvious need to ensure my safety and that of my parents through complete confidentiality, my vanity has me shuddering at the idea of Potter knowing about my involvement in The Order. I fully expect The Boy Wonder's eventual showdown with Voldemort to turn ugly. I, therefore, don't want my name to be part of Potter's arsenal of insults during his sure-to-be heroic soliloquy as he brings the Dark Lord to what I hope will be his ultimate end.

In my worst imaginings, news of my defection to Dumbledore's side would allow Potter to lord it over me. I can not stomach the idea of him relishing my change of heart as some sort of personal victory. Besides, the last thing I need is for Scarface to open his trap about this during any sort of public confrontation where my housemates might hear. Such a revelation would make me even more of a persona non grata among my Slytherin brethren! Things are bad enough for me in my common room already!

To my great surprise, Dumbledore puts up no protest at my demands. I suppose he's done the same for Snape and my request is therefore quite reasonable.

He then goes on to what seems to be an in-depth interview, assessing my skills and knowledge of Voldemort's base camp and gathering of followers. He also makes it a point to ask about my magical abilities outside those taught at Hogwarts.

Thanks to Snape, he knows I am a practiced Occlumens. I assure him that my wicked Aunt Bella, through her skillfully cruel use of a wand, taught me to fight off many of the most potentially sinister spells and powerful curses that Voldemort could place upon my person, including two of the Unforgiveables: the Cruciatus and the Imperius.

After what feels like an eternity, the Headmaster leans back into his chair, signaling the completion of the fact-finding portion of our interview.

"I daresay, Draco, I am quite impressed with the immense amount of courage you've come to display this evening," Dumbledore says, after we've finished with formalities.

"What I'm doing here is hardly worthy of accolade, Sir. I am far from courageous," I reply, embarrassed by the unexpected adulation. I had expected an altogether different reaction from the old goat to my admission yesterday evening. I'd been thinking more along the lines of receiving a one-way ticket to join my father in Azkaban.

"You are here because of duty, then," he asks quietly, "only duty?"

"If there is one thing I know, Sir, it is how to be dutiful." I shift uneasily on my feet as I watch Dumbledore fumble around with one of his desk drawers.

Why does it feel as though I hadn't answered his question properly?

"It can hardly be deemed courageous to spill my worries to Granger and Weasley in the manner that I did, Headmaster," I admit wearily, turning to ease myself into one of his sitting chairs before even being offered a seat. "I am certainly not proud of my ever increasing ability to show my greatest weaknesses when it seems strength is required."

"I beg to disagree, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps you've never considered that courage is simply the willingness to be afraid and to act valiantly in spite of the fear."

Dumbledore places another sweet lemon drop in his mouth. A look of pleasure spreads across his face and I cast him a bemused glance.

Examining this aged wizard and his distressingly blackened hand, I think of all the times he must have been called upon to show unwavering courage and strength during his lengthy lifetime. I wonder how many times he might have been as heart-stoppingly afraid as I've been since my father's fall from grace.

The crackling fire causes me to think of my father sitting in his den at the Manor. A wry smile twists at my lips as I recall his penchant for grandstanding and his carefully crafted methods of intimidation when outside the manor. I sigh, thinking how much different Father had been at home, sometimes so opposite the man he portrayed when he was off Malfoy grounds. Father had been nearly insane with fear since Voldemort's return. As a result, he'd kow-towed to that madman, making decisions that ultimately put Mother and me in danger rather than place us in the safety he'd so wished to guarantee through his working with Voldemort.

I shake my head at Father's professions of honor-bound duty to preserve the Malfoy name. Though I'm just now learning that his support of Voldemort is all sorts of wrong, I fail to see what is honorable in giving up his allegiance and beliefs, only to swiftly reclaim them at the smallest hint of Voldemort's return. According to Snape, in the aftermath of the First War, Father managed to outwit the Ministry by being one of the first to claim he was under Imperius. Though he was one of the deadliest Death Eaters in Voldemort's entourage, this absolved him of any wrongdoing. An act I find unworthy of our family name.

I'll never forget the sight of him groveling at the foot of his Dark Lord during this past summer. How, despite Mother's pleadings, or even a word of warning to me, he'd turned me over to that most vile wizard like some sacrificial lamb.

It seems Father sets his sails to whichever wind blows the hardest and jumps ship at the first sign of trouble.

I don't know how to feel about this new insight.

Heartbreak does not begin to describe what it feels like to be left with the discovery that the infallible man I'd adored is in actuality a lowly and terribly misguided coward.

Professor Dumbledore interrupts my dark musings with a loud throat clearing, "A-hem."

I shift my gaze to him.

"Despite your reticence and well-placed fears, Mr. Malfoy, I am of the mind that you have chosen well in your decision to follow in Professor Snape's footsteps." I notice his good hand rests on a strange wooden box that hadn't been on his desk before I'd started thinking about Father.

Naturally, the Headmaster's comments lead me to think of all the times I've panicked and fled when threatened. I am hard pressed to remember one single moment I ever stood and acted against my darkest fears. The flames flicker on the hearth as I sift through my memories for just one time I might have acted nobly to assist someone beyond myself.

My thoughts stray to Granger and I scoff a little. I remember hesitating when we'd made that vow, not wanting to be responsible for her safety. Stubborn witch that she is had tightened her grip on my hand, wordlessly daring me to let go. To further complicate matters, when I did finally realize how dangerous it might be for her to participate in the cabinet project, she'd refused to allow me to keep her out of harm's way.

That little gnat of a witch wouldn't even accept my help when I'd told her it was for her own safety!

Beyond that sorry attempt at selflessness, however, I am chagrined to discover there has been no other time when faced with a danger that I had not turned tail and run. Even at Hogsmeade, I couldn't stand up to my Aunt Bella and protect Katie. I'd excused my compliance by convincing myself that in playing along I would cause the least harm. And, look where that got me--closer to the likes of Granger and Weasely, questioning the reason for my very existence and now becoming a double agent against the very people my father wants me to serve.

Disgraceful.

Or is it?

I hang my head, realizing how often I'd followed my father's lead, all bluster and bravado, throwing around money to capture what we believe is our pure-blooded right. Even Snape, my slimy git of a godfather, is more courageous than my father and me put together.

This elusive thing called courage is apparently not part of the Malfoy credo that has been bred into me from the cradle.

"I assure you, Draco, your understanding of Slytherin values will allow you to see the truth of things more clearly than most. What you must remember always, my boy, is that in the most dire situations, not everything is as it seems."

I watch the Headmaster lift the wooden cube from his austere desk. It is large enough to house one of Trelawney's smaller crystal balls. With his wand, he levitates it between us. I stare at it in curiosity. It is beautiful in that age-old magical way. The power surrounding it can be felt even from where I sit. It is covered on each side with letters and numbers. There appears to be no rhyme or reason to them.

I cock my head at the oddity and realize I'd seen a similar object in my father's office this summer. I'd determined it was only a sort of puzzle to pass the time when he could no longer stand looking at the family ledgers. I try to recall why I'd think such a thing and remember Zabini coming into the common room last year holding a multi-colored Muggle toy called a Rubik's Cube that he'd snatched from Finch-Fletchley. Yes, Dumbledore's and Father's cube looked very much like a larger, wooden version of the Muggle toy, except for the carved letters...

and numbers...

and the lack of colors to match...

and the fact that you don't twist it round and round to discover the solution.

Well, perhaps it isn't a toy, after all, I think dryly.

"What is it, Professor?" I inquire at last.

Dumbledore smiles at me and waves his wand so the cube lands gently on my lap.

"It is a gift, for you, Mr. Malfoy. One I hope you will find useful as you continue to walk this untrodden path you've set for yourself."

I internally curse the wrinkled wizard for his preposterous enigmatic statements.

"What am I to do with it, Sir?" I ask, forcing myself to remain calm. I play with the cube a little to distract myself. I see how the numbers and letters light up after I press a fingertip to them.

"Why, use it, of course," he says with a shrug, popping yet another lemon drop into his mouth.

I note a twinkle in his eye that annoys me to no end and feel the onset of a temper tantrum. I work at not yelling at the old coot by absently trying to light up all the letters and numbers on the cube all at once.

"Do you know, Draco, that some Muggle vows, when spoken from the depths of the heart, are stronger than any one of the most powerful magical vows that bind us witches and wizards to one another?"

Come again?

"Pardon, Professor? I'm afraid I don't follow."

Instead of stopping to explain, Dumbledore continues his maddeningly perplexing babble.

"The words of this Muggle vow are known throughout the wizarding world, but few of us ever fully comprehend their meaning. I believe, Draco, you may be the rarity among us who is intelligent and cunning enough to discover the secret of these words. Such a vow, Mr. Malfoy, can sometimes be used to answer one of life's greatest puzzles."

I stare at him dumbfounded.

He'd given me a clue!

I paste a placid expression on my face as I race around in my head, swiftly tucking the information he'd relayed into the folds of my memory so I can peer at these tidbits more closely when I am alone in my room.

Two can play this game.

"I've noticed you quite like lemon drops as opposed to the more traditional sort of sweets, Headmaster," I say distractedly, still concentrating on memorizing his earlier words.

He smiles and nods.

"I've recently discovered that I don't like them very much," I add slyly, watching curiosity light in his eyes.

"Why ever not, Mr. Malfoy?"

With a gleam in my own eye, I send him a mischievous look without answering right away. Only a blink later, I've completed my task of mentally filing away his cryptic information and come to a standing.

The wizard sends me another kindly smile and I catch sight of that infernal twinkle again.

Grasping the mysterious cube in my hand, I make to leave.

"Thank you for the gift, Headmaster," I say with an equally genial smile, tossing the cuble into the air and catching it again.

Too light to be a solid wood piece.

With a wave and a "You're quite welcome, Mr. Malfoy," I am dismissed.

Before I go, however, I make sure to address the Headmaster once more.

"Oh, and as for the lemon drop, Sir," I say slowly before turning to the door, "they upset my expectations, presenting too much of a surprise for my tastes. I personally find them overwhelmingly disconcerting... for a sweet, that is."

I wave my farewell and hear his appreciative chuckle as his office door slowly shuts behind me.