Year six. I am putting this off, am I not? Snape lands that long coveted DADA post.
Sectumsempra
The branding of an initiate was something not to be taken lightly. The fact that the Dark Lord demanded Draco Malfoy be marked at the tender age of sixteen without completion of an assigned task did not bode well. Severus kept his face impassive. Lucius was in prison and Narcissa was clinging to Bella outside the ritual circle on the Malfoy Manor lawn. Snape knew the price of a failure. Would-be Death Eaters who failed were mercilessly tortured and killed for sport.
Draco seemed so young as he knelt there before their master. Pale-faced, he stared down at the ground, waiting. All the childish bluster and self-importance had been drained out of him. Voldemort loomed over him as he approached, wand drawn. Two Death Eaters came forward at the Dark Lord's instruction, grabbing hold of Draco to hold him steady. The boy screamed when the wand-tip touched the skin of his left forearm. Severus could still recall the pain of his own branding. The screaming stopped when Draco finally passed out.
"Take this weakling away…" Voldemort's order was quickly obeyed. The Death Eaters dragged the boy out of the ritual circle and dumped him in a heap on the grass. Draco had shown himself weak before the other Death Eaters. The fresh Dark Mark gleamed angrily on his godson's pale skin.
To kill the powerful Albus Dumbledore. There was no way his godson could do it. True, he was a bully and a brat, but Draco was not a killer. It was forbidden for another Death Eater to assist with an initiation mission. Draco was doomed. Severus forcefully tamped down his thoughts of doom. The Malfoys were in disgrace, he could not approach them directly, not even to offer comfort to his godson. Perhaps he might be able to circumvent the rule somehow… without bringing their master's ire down on them all.
Lucius hugged his knees to his chest and moaned. The foul creatures were back. He could feel his father's disappointment, his mother's leaving, Cissy's shrinking from his touch in bed, her miscarriages… And worst of all, the twin of his heir. The girl-child with the deformed head and legs, how she had felt in his hands, moments before he dropped her into the flames. A breathing, weakly squirming bundle still slick and blood-warm from his wife's womb. Would they Kiss him?
The Dementors moved on to the next cell. A respite until the next visit. He shivered in the thin prison garb.
Bellatrix alone had escaped. Did she care enough for Cissy to shield her sister from their Master's cruelty? What of Severus who played the hazardous game of spy within their enemy's ranks? He did not know. The Manor wards had long been bent to Voldemort's will through the blood rituals they carried out. It was no longer a sanctuary for his wife and child.
Be strong, you're a Black! Cissy forced herself to stand taller, straighter. She took her son by the hand, checking to make sure his Mark was hidden under his clothes. With a pop, they Apparated to Diagon Alley. It would be brutal. The hushed whispers behind their backs, the shrinking away of once-friends. Her boy had shot up like a weed. A visit to Madam Malkin's was due. After his less than stellar initiation ceremony, Draco had trained harder under Bella and applied himself more fervently to his studies. She had watched with pride as he had used wordless and wandless magic to levitate her teacup.
Gringott's first. She held her boy close as the sneering goblin - was his name Sharpclaw? – explained their financial standing. She had left so much of the finances to Luc, she was now at a loss when faced with the ledgers. She made a far smaller withdrawal than she would have preferred. No new robes this season for her. At Madam Malkin's they ran into a pack of savages led by that horrid Potter. Once she had stepped out, Cissy regretted her words. Madam Malkin would not welcome them back after her outburst. The robes at Twilffit cost far more than her now reduced allowance would allow for.
"Mother, I must go to Borgin and Burke's."
"Draco…"
"I'll meet you later at Scrivenshaft's." With that, her son pulled his hand from hers and strode purposefully in the direction of Knockturn Alley. Watching his back disappear among the throngs of schoolchildren and their parents, she felt oddly bereft. Would his godfather be enough for him to lean on?
Severus studied the pictures he had put up in his airy new classroom. Gory, bloody – pure nightmare fuel. If these do not drill the importance of his subject into those dunderheads, nothing will. He had a few more things to prepare before his first lesson…
"Isn't this a little too much?" The Bloody Baron drifted in for a closer look.
"Says someone with his chest in bloody ribbons," Snape retorted. The Baron dripped silvery blood on the floorboards.
"The boy has been giving you cheek, hasn't he?" the ghost twirled his moustache.
"What's new?" Potter had to ruin his first day of school by turning up with a bloody nose and late for the feast.
"I don't mean the lions. I mean that blond lordling – going through a rebellious phase? He was always so polite to you, Professor Snape. Might I suggest a rod or…"
"I am not beating Malfoy…"
"Because he is your godson? Maybe you should, lest he gets into more trouble…" the Baron floated out. "Spare the rod and spoil the child…"
Severus groaned. The House ghost was right. There was a growing distance between him and his godson, be it from the natural progression of a boy into manhood, the strain of losing his father, or something more. Draco no longer turned to him for advice on his spellcasting. Instead, it was Bellatrix and other Death Eaters like Yaxley. Dangerous wix willing to push the very limits of Dark magics.
A child playing at Death Eater – Draco had no idea at all how Snape's deeds in his misguided youth still chipped at his soul. Even now, he had to act the part of fervent Death Eater – witness, participate even in torture and murder at the Dark Lord's behest. He was bound for Hell anyway with the blood on his hands. He hoped Draco might be able to escape… Perhaps Dumbledore…
A forlorn hope – clutching at straws. There is no reason for Dumbledore to save Draco from the Dark Lord's mercies. The boy has no part in whatever grand scheme the old wizard envisioned, unlike Potter. He had failed to protect Lily back then. Snape rubbed his wrist. An Unbreakable Vow. That Draco's mother would deign to pay him a visit in his shack in Muggle-town to ask for his aid…
Snape laughed dryly. He had to report the recent developments to the headmaster of course. A student bearing the Dark Mark stalking the halls of Hogwarts. Were there others he was unaware of? Killing Dumbledore - it would be too easy thanks to the old coot's carelessness. A dribble of poison in his tea… but they still needed the old man to live, as a figurehead for the Order if nothing else. Another burden placed by the old man on his shoulders to be dealt with when the time came. Even the headmaster must have seen into young Malfoy enough to know he was incapable of murder.
Protect one boy – a stubborn, resentful dunderhead of a Malfoy. What could go wrong?
As it would turn out, everything.
Another visit from the Dementors? No, there were screams and mad cackling. Could it be? Part of him wanted to hope, to believe… The other part wanted to shrink into the walls of his cell. Lestrange was shouting.
"Malfoy, wake up! Our Master is here!" Nott called out from the next cell. No chance of escape then…
Lucius Malfoy stood up as straight as he could, then was forced to duck for cover as a Blasting Hex took out the side of his cell.
The shenanigans of his godson were both painfully obvious to him and no less pathetic. Snape winced inside as Katie Bell was hurriedly whisked off to St Mungo's. Where was that finesse and calculation his House was known for? This was the desperate scrabbling of a trapped creature.
Draco had lost weight. He noticed that he only picked at his food during mealtimes. He looked constantly dishevelled where he would have spent hours grooming himself in the bathroom. Snape was sure the Slytherin boy's dorm breathed a collective sigh of relief when Draco was made Prefect and allowed to use the luxurious Prefects' Bathroom. No more morning queues because someone could not get his pomade just right.
His grades were plummeting faster than suicidal lemmings off a cliff. In a spectacular first for his godson, he had misbrewed a potion and melted a cauldron, much to Slughorn's disgust. Snape had gone over to the Quidditch pitch during the team's practice to find his godson's position usurped by a boy who looked part gorilla –Montague or Harper? A quick word with the captain revealed Draco had decided to leave the team to better concentrate on his studies. Flint was not amused about losing his Seeker.
The fair Madam Rosmerta was looking a tad distracted over the past months. Snape wondered if she had been Imperius-ed. No, he could not, would not look too deeply, even if she messed up his order at the Three Broomsticks on his weekends. She would be fine, so long as the Curse was laid correctly. That she was still running her establishment without any complaints from the clientele suggested that.
Poppy was kept busy by those lions. Fractured skulls, love potions and poison followed Bell's mishap. Points to Potter for proper use of a bezoar. There was something decidedly fishy about old Slug singing Potter's praises. Lily had a natural talent for Potions… Had her son been holding back on them all this while? Or had he been blinded by the ghost of James Potter to see his student's potential?
Was there some trickery involved? Cheating abetted by Miss Granger? No, even the busy-haired witch seemed surprised by the change in Potter. Some serious competition from within her House perhaps now Draco was scrapping the dregs for all his classes. He quietly requested the deputy headmistress look into the matter. Minerva found nothing amiss. Snape dared not ask her to probe deeper.
Draco's clumsy attempts at assassination were an embarrassment. Cursed jewellery and poisoned mead indeed. Why can't the headmaster just confront the boy, offer him sanctuary… The rate things were going, it would be matter of time before someone caught on and Aurors came to arrest Draco. Would he be sent to Azkaban a minor? There had been another breakout from Azkaban in January, Lucius among them. On returning from the Easter holidays, Draco seemed to have been reduced to a shadow of his past self. Yet he still refused to reach out to his godfather. The Malfoys' position grew increasingly precarious. His parents as hostages, Draco had no choice but to…
"MURDER! Murder in the Boys' Bathroom!"
Snape cussed as his quill skittered over the essay he had been marking, leaving an inky trail in its wake. Taking one look at the student's name, he incinerated the entire essay. Master Finnegan can go whistle over his lost marks. The essay he set was for uses of moonstone with sulphur, not uses of sulphur and saltpetre.
"What's the meaning of this racket?" Snape strode out of the classroom straight into a wall of icy cold air. Moaning Myrtle.
"Oh! There's been a murder in the sixth-floor bathroom, Professor! Blood everywhere!" the ghost girl trilled with ghoulish glee.
"Take me there." He was certain a certain bespectacled Gryffindor was involved somehow. Those bloody lions.
Author's Notes:
Yep, that infamous bathroom duel has occurred.
