Title: All That Glitters

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: There have been a few questions on why Diggory is Minister of Magic instead of Kingsley. Unfortunately, I can't reveal the reason for that now, but rest assured, it will be answered in the course of the story.

Summary: Harry sighed heavily. "I was just thinking…" "Thinking is good," Luna said bluntly. "Not everyone does it. You don't always do it."

All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost

Chapter Five: Monsters and Men

Harry slumped over in his chair and stared moodily at the fire. Ron was at the library, supposedly studying, and Hermione was in Edinburgh, as usual. He, too, was supposed to be reviewing for his exams, but thoughts of Snape plagued his mind. His hands balled into fists, his knuckles turning white, and he thought of all the ways he would punish the Death Eater, all the ways he would make him beg for mercy before finally ending his life.

Kingsley wanted him to wait. Minister Diggory wanted him to wait. Headmistress McGonagall wanted him to wait. And every moment that he was supposed to wait, Snape was still alive enjoying life, laughing at how he had avoided capture. Was he mocking the wizarding world even now?

"Why?" he whispered, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "Dumbledore… how could you ever trust him? How could you let him go free after everything he did to my family?" The anger was boiling now, rising through his veins with a fury and vengeance. "Why?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Why?"

Quite abruptly, he couldn't stand the silence. He couldn't just sit there with no idea of what to do. He couldn't stand by and let Snape go free, not if he had a chance to do something about it.

He rose, and turned on the spot, Disapparating from the room.

The few years since the war had been pleasant enough for Draco Malfoy. He'd spent them abroad, first in France, then in Switzerland, and finally in Egypt. He traveled, and occasionally studied, but his parents had managed to retain almost all of their wealth, and he could survive amply on whatever his father gave him.

His return to England, however, had reminded him of just how much he did not like the country. It was a gray day, but most of the days that month had been gray, and the near future was not likely to be any different. In France, the country side was warm and beautiful. In Switzerland, the brilliantly blue sun had glistened on fresh white snow. In Egypt, the water was warm and clear and the beaches were filled with fine white and gold sand.

Here on the English coast, the wind that swept in from the ocean, blowing in gales over the sand dunes, was cold and damp and unpleasant. He kicked the sand with his feet and stared blankly out at the water. The Atlantic Ocean stretched out before him, disappearing as it faded into the gray horizon.

He had seen his mother briefly the day before. They met for coffee in a small café on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. They had spoken for a few minutes before one of the other patrons had approached his mother and accused her of being a traitorous, lying leech who had bought her way out of Azkaban with her husband's gold.

He had been on his feet a moment later, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, stretched out before him in a threatening manner. The patron had reached for his own wand, glaring contemptuously at Draco, and it was only his mother's gentle voice and soft hand on his arm that had stopped the young wizard from attacking.

She had told him not to fight, and they left the establishment quickly.

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his white-blonde hair. Was this the treatment his mother had been enduring while he was gone? His parents had been adamant that he spend as much time out of the country as possible, but it was only now occurring to him that they may have done that to ensure that he would avoid the hatred and wrath of the wizarding community in England.

As always, his thoughts went back to that moment on the tower, staring down at Dumbledore's weakened form. He remembered hold his wand in a shaking hand, not wanting to complete the task assigned him. And then he remembered Snape appearing at his side and ending the old man's life.

"I don't understand," he had protested when he first learned of Snape's true allegiances from his mother. "If Dumbledore wanted to die anyway, why did Snape have to be the one to do it?"

"He was protecting you," his mother had answered softly, gently. Her disapproving stare stopped him from arguing that he didn't need protection, and while he huffed in annoyance, she continued, "There are some things you can never take back, once you've already done them."

Draco gave a bitter laugh. "I was an ungrateful brat, wasn't I?" he said to the wind. All of his sixth and seventh year, Snape had tried to protect him. And what did he get in return? An irritable, moody, arrogant boy who thought he was old enough and mature enough to make his own decisions without facing any regrets.

So many people trying to protect him…

And so many people who still wanted him dead.

He was not surprised to hear the crack of Apparation behind him, although he did wonder idly how Potter had managed to track him down. He'd told no one where he was going that day.

He didn't even bother turning around.

"Hello, Potter."

"Where is he, Malfoy?" Potter demanded, striding forward and catching Malfoy by the shoulder, pulling him hard and forcing him to spin around. "Where's Snape?"

Draco's face filled with shock and concern before he was able to school it into an appropriately confused expression and utter the words, "How would I know?"

Potter smirk. "Your expression just gave you away, Malfoy. Where is he?"

"I don't know," Draco replied evenly. There was no proof against him or his family, he knew that Snape was too clever to leave a trail. Whatever Potter thought he knew, he would never be able to verify it.

"You bloody well do," Potter spat.

"Hmm…" Draco smiled. Potter had his wand out, and it was always a foolish idea to taunt powerful wizards who had little self-control. Still, it was amusing to watch the simmering anger nearly overcome the Boy Who Lived.

"Malfoy," Potter threatened.

"You're right," Malfoy said casually, "I did see him recently. We had a spot of tea at the Three Broomsticks and chatted about his upcoming wedding plans to Madam Hooch."

"Do you think I am a fool?" Potter snarled.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Malfoy asked, feigning ignorance.

"I'll give you one more chance, Malfoy," Potter said coldly. "Tell me where Snape is and I won't hand you over to the Wizengamot and have you strung up like the vile creature you are."

"Oh, big words for a boy who doesn't have any proof of anything," Draco replied easily. "What are you going to do? Tell the world that they should just take your word for it because, as usual, you know everything?"

"I know you are a liar," Potter retorted viciously, his expression twisting with rage.

"And you thought you knew that the Dark Lord had your precious godfather in the Department of Mysteries. We all know how well that ended… But hey, if you want to be responsible for another innocent's death…"

He really wasn't sure what hit him. A spell of some kind, but Potter never said the words out loud, and the pain that tore through his body was unlike anything he had experienced under most of the normal tormenting curses. It flooded through him, and then was gone, and he was on his hands and knees gasping for breath.

He looked up at Potter, but the expression on the other boy's face gave him pause. It was a mixture of disgust and horror, but Draco was pretty sure that neither of those emotions were directed at him. Potter was revolted by what he himself had done.

Before Draco had a chance to say anything, however, Potter had Disapparated. He pulled himself slowly to his feet and stared at the spot his nemesis had stood. The ocean spray, cold and wet, landed on his back and neck, and he shivered. He was home now, and he was beginning to realize it was going to be a very long year.

He stared at the fire crackling merrily in the grate. The flames licked the logs, burning higher and higher. The glow reflected in the darkness of his green eyes, but he kept seeing Malfoy falling to the sand, gasping for breathe.

He hadn't meant to hurt Malfoy. But his comment about Sirius struck to close to home, and the anger that bubbled in his veins had escaped his control. Even after all these years, his guilt at his godfather's death had never stopped plaguing him. Malfoy was protecting the man who had betrayed his parents and killed Dumbledore, and he still had the gall to bring up Sirius' death like it was some amusing trivia?

He didn't really know what he did. The anger had coursed into his hand and flooded from his hand through the stiff wood of his wand. He must have thought a spell in his mind, but he didn't know what it was.

How could he have done that? How could he have let himself lose control so completely? Would Malfoy report him to the Aurors? Attacking someone with a spell as vicious as that one was not only wrong, it was also against the law.

"Harry?"

He started at the sound and turned towards the door. So lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't heard it open, or the fall of footsteps on the floor that announced the presence of another person. He relaxed when he recognized the newcomer and offered a tight smile.

"Hello, Luna."

"You didn't answer when I knocked on the door," the blonde said, walking further into the room. "But the door was open, so I was afraid you might have been attacked by Gnattlies. They're bad this time of year."

"Um, no," Harry said, a true smile pulling at his lips. "It wasn't the… uh… Gnattlies." He had long since realized that it was better to just nod at whatever she said instead of trying to figure out just what exactly Gnattlies were and why they would attack him.

"My father had an infestation of them," Luna added, taking a seat on the sofa.

"I'm sorry to hear that?" Harry ventured.

"Oh, well, it was alright," Luna said breezily, giving Harry a smile. "We lured them outside with seeds from the Nefferous plant and they didn't come back. They're really not so difficult to deal with. The key is to never let them catch you unaware."

"Right… er, I'll keep that in mind," Harry said. He shifted awkwardly, staring intently at Luna. She would sometimes drop by unannounced, and most of the time he enjoyed her presence. But he wanted to be alone right now to mull over his disturbing thoughts, and he couldn't think of a polite way to ask her to leave.

"Are you alright?" Luna asked curiously. "You look very contemplative."

Harry sighed heavily. "I was just thinking…"

"Thinking is good," Luna said bluntly. "Not everyone does it. You don't always do it."

Harry blinked, once again in awe of her ability to blatantly state the unpleasant or difficult truths. "No, I don't," he agreed. He certainly hadn't thought through his actions when faced with Malfoy's callous words.

"Did you do something bad?"

Harry frowned, thinking over Luna's words. Had he done something bad? Yes, of course he had. On the other hand, hadn't Malfoy done something bad as well? His actions might have been wrong, but where they entirely unjustified? He didn't think so, but he wasn't entirely sure.

"I attacked Draco Malfoy," Harry said finally. He sank into the armchair across from Luna and gave her a searching stare, trying to determine from her expression what she thought of his statement. She stared back at him, her face an open book of surprise and disappointment and concern.

"Did he attack you as well?" Luna asked in a lilting voice.

"He… well, not physically, no," Harry replied. "He blamed me for Sirius' death and he…" He didn't want to go into great detail with Luna. He didn't want to tell her that he suspected Malfoy of harboring Snape. He didn't want to have to share any of this with her because in her dream-world, the one she seemed to live in every day, bad things might happen, but they could always be overcome. He didn't want her optimism or her insights. He just wanted to be left alone.

But Luna made no move to leave. Instead, she said, "Did he say something mean to you? Did he attack you in a non-physical way?" She shook her head and added, "Sometimes that hurts just as much. Even more. Students at Hogwarts were mean to me sometimes. It wasn't fun."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, the words empty and meaningless. He was sorry, but it wasn't like there was anything he could do to change her experience.

"I know," Luna said. "You are a good person. You just don't always think."

Harry nodded slowly. Part of the reason he so enjoyed Luna's company was that he never had to guess what she was actually thinking. Unlike almost everyone else in the wizarding world, she would simply state whatever was on her mind. Her candor was refreshing.

"Snape betrayed my parents. He killed Dumbledore. I just want…" Harry shook his head. "Justice."

"It sounds to me like you want revenge," Luna remarked casually.

"I have a right to it!" Harry snapped, jumping to his feet and beginning to pace back and forth across the floor of his flat. "I have a right to it," he repeated in a quieter voice. Pettigrew was dead, Voldemort was dead, but Snape still lived while James and Lily lay buried under six feet of earth.

Luna rose as well, seeming to sense that it was time to leave. She wandered over to the door, than glanced over her shoulder at Harry. "Ron told me once that you kept Mr. Black and Professor Lupin from killing Peter Pettigrew." And she was gone, leaving Harry with his troubled thoughts.

In his third year, he had prevented Sirius and Lupin from killing Pettigrew. In the Shrieking Shack, he'd saved Pettigrew's life. Why?

I don't think my dad would have wanted you to becomes killers because of him.

He flopped back down onto the sofa and buried his head in his hands.

Penelope Clearwater tapped her quill against the desk idly as she stared blankly at the window. She hadn't reported the conversation she'd heard to anyone, and she had no idea who she would even tell anyway. She didn't really know any Aurors, and although she was sure the Weasley family did, she didn't want to go to them for help.

Before she could think any further on this subject, however, Percy appeared in front of her, looking haggard, worn, and confused. He paused a moment, frowning at her moody expression, and asked, "What's wrong?"

Penelope shook her head, refusing to answer. It was really pointless to tell him, there was nothing he could do to solve the problem. She would simply need to go the Auror department at the Ministry and find someone there to talk to.

So instead of burdening Percy with a retelling of the conversation, she asked, "What's the matter with you? You look flustered."

"I… uh…" Percy ran a hand through his hair and glanced around to make sure they would not be disturbed or overheard. Convincing himself that it was safe to speak, he said in a low tone, "We received notification that someone used Dark Magic…"

"Death Eaters?" Penelope asked breathlessly. Percy, working as high up in the Minister's own office as he did, was one of the people who often knew details about the various investigations of those suspected of using Dark Magic. He never participated directly in any of the investigations, but Minster Diggory was frequently appraised of anything happening in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and as such, he heard more than most.

"No," Percy said, looking upset. "Shacklebolt was speaking to the Minister about it… they have reason to believe it was Harry Potter."

"What?" Penelope practically screeched. "Why? How?"

"I don't know," Percy admitted guiltily. "I wasn't supposed to be listening to the conversation, and the Minister closed the door when he saw me standing there…"

"Well," Penelope reasoned, "since you didn't hear the full story, maybe there is more…" She dropped her quill onto the desk and considered Percy's recounting carefully. "There must have been mitigating circumstances."

Harry Potter had managed to defeat one of the wickedest wizards that ever lived by the use of a disarming spell. He had survived the war, avoided Death Eaters, and escaped capture several times, all while never once firing a permanently damaging spell. The idea that he would use the Dark Arts now was just unfathomable.

"Yes…" Percy agreed reluctantly.

"Oh, come now, Percy, you don't really think Harry Potter would go the other side, do you?" Penelope said light-heartedly, attempting to coax a smile from her melancholy boyfriend.

But Percy didn't smile. He just gave her a long, hard look, and said, "I don't think he's evil, but I don't always trust his judgment either." He leaned forward, resting his hands on her desk. "I just hope he's clearly thinking through whatever he's doing."

It caught Runcorn by surprise to hear the loud crack of Apparation in the middle of his living room. His house was well guarded by many different wards, and he was not used to having visitors arrive unannounced. His hand reached automatically for his wand, then froze as he saw who had arrived.

Severus Snape was standing directly in front of him, his wand outstretched, pointed at his forehead.

"Careful, Runcorn. Give me one good reason to kill you, and I'll do it," Snape warned, his voice still the same sneering tone that it had been when he was the Dark Lord's right hand man and at the height of his power.

"Do you really think you'll get out of here all in one piece? My wards had alarms on them, Snape. The Aurors will know someone had broken into my home. They'll investigate." He held his hands at his sides, but he was itching to grab his wand and duel with this wizard. Still, it would be folly to rush into anything, especially now, while Snape still had the advantage of already having his weapon drawn.

"Do you really think I was foolish enough to come without disabling the alarms first?" Snape shot back with a smirk. He watched as the color drained from Runcorn's face, and he felt the stirrings of pride within him. To be able to disarm someone else's wards was a great feat, the mark of a very powerful wizard, and Runcorn knew it.

Snape lowered his wand slightly, still keeping his fingers tightly wrapped around it. Runcorn took a seat on the armchair near the fire, and stared up at Snape defiantly.

Snape couldn't resist another barb. "And do you really think, Runcorn, that the Aurors will rush to your defense? I gather you are no longer as… influential… as you had once hoped."

Runcorn flushed, but managed to snarl a response. "Neither are you," he retorted. "The Dark Lord would have given you everything, but you threw it all away. And for what? Allegiance to an old fool?"

Snape curled his lip in disgust. "The Dark Lord took from me the only thing I ever truly wanted. And no, I did not throw it all away from Dumbledore." He eyed Runcorn for a moment, then changed the subject, not wanting to show weakness by dwelling on thoughts of Lily. "There are rumors that you are making a bid for power. One that will, no doubt, include misfortune for myself."

"And you've come to deliver a warning, have you?" Runcorn sneered. "Let me guess… If I come after you, you will kill me? How… unimaginative."

"Oh, I can be quite a bit more imaginative than that," Snape said softly, his eyes glittering with cruelty. He paused, then said, "But no, I did not come here for warnings or threats. For if I ever decide your life is no longer worthwhile," he smile grew into an unpleasant leer, "rest assured, I will not actually warn you that your time is up."

"I doubt even with the element of surprise, you would find me an easy target," Runcorn countered, although his hands gripped tightly to the edge of the chair. He had seen Severus Snape perform feats of magic he never even dreamed were possible, such as flight, and he did not want to cross the potions Master without a fool-proof plan.

"I've faced more powerful wizards than you," Snape said callously. "And the Dark Lord is dead, yet I am still here."

"I'm sure that mistake will be rectified in time."

Snape didn't bother responding to the comment. Instead, he let his gaze wander over the room while he carefully mulled over his next words. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively soft, but the tone sent shivers up Runcorn's spine.

"I want you to deliver a message for me. You will tell Hannigan that I'm not fool, and if he truly wants to capture me, he will meet me, in person, at Spinner's End. And he will come alone."

Snape carefully watched Runcorn's face as he said the words. The other man's eyes opened slightly, just enough to indicate his surprise at Snape's words. Just enough to reveal that Snape was entirely accurate in assuming that Hannigan was involved.

"There is always an Auror stationed at your old house, Snape," Runcorn said finally, his voice holding firm. He would not show signs of shock or fear in front of his enemy. It was a weakness, and he would not allow the potions Master to use that to gain the upper hand.

"There won't be tonight," Snape replied assuredly. And without another word, he was gone, leaving Runcorn alone in the silence of the empty house.

"What are you doing here?"

Snape folded his arms across his chest and gave Lucius a cold stare. "Can't a man visit his friend?" he sneered in a tone that caused most first years to quail and fall apart under his stern glare.

"Do you really think it… wise… to be here?" Lucius asked.

"Worried I might sully your perfect reputation?" Snape drawled sarcastically. He glanced idly around the house, but he knew that they were alone. He wouldn't have chanced entering the Malfoys' home if there was any chance that he might be caught.

"What do you want?" Lucius pressed.

"Your assistance in a small matter," Snape said, walking further into the study. Lucius was sitting at a large mahogany desk, leaning back in his chestnut-wood chair. The large room was oval-shaped, the floor carpeted in a plush rug, the walls lined with various portraits of Malfoy ancestors. A tall bookshelf stood against one far wall, filled with rare and old books.

"A small matter?" Lucius asked skeptically.

Snape turned towards his friend. He waved one hand towards the furnishings of the room and said dryly, "It appears your wealth managed to survive the war undiminished."

"You need money?" Lucius asked with a confused raise of his eyebrow. He and Narcissa had given Snape everything he needed, including money, to survive in the hovel he had chosen. He would not deny his friend more money now, but Narcissa had visited Snape only a few days ago, and had not mentioned any requests Snape might have made.

"If you feel the need to deny me this assistance," Snape said silkily, "I suppose I understand. After all, the only thing I ever did for you was keep your only son alive and safe…"

"I didn't mean it like that," Lucius hissed, rising. His face flushed a dull red with anger. "You know we are most appreciative of everything you did for us… and for Draco."

"Indeed."

"Do you need money?" Lucius asked directly.

"No," Snape answered, taking some pleasure in the frustrated expression that briefly flickered through Lucius' pale eyes.

"Do you realize that we are being constantly watched?" Lucius hissed. "Every time my wife visits you, she puts all of us in grave danger. Now you come here and waste time baiting me while the Aurors are looking for you?"

"They won't find me," Snape said simply, confidently. "But are you too afraid to take the risk?"

"Are you a fool?" Lucius demanded forcefully. "Why put yourself in unnecessary danger?"

"Runcorn is a problem," Snape said.

Lucius hesitated, then nodded slowly. "He is. He threatened Narcissa and Draco."

"He wants power, and he will do anything to get it. He's made me his sacrificial lamb, but if I am destroyed, he will ruin you to," Snape continued.

"Obviously," Lucius replied. "We knew the risks in helping you, in throwing our fates in with yours."

"And yet you did it anyway," Snape sneered. "I'm touched." He folded his arms over his chest, his long fingers wrapped around his arms. "Narcissa thinks Hannigan may be involved in Runcorn's plans. I think she is right."

"She mentioned her concerns to me," Lucius conceded. "All the more reason you shouldn't be here."

"Worried about your safety still?" Snape smirked. "If the Aurors come, I'll tell them I threatened to kill if you refused to let me into your home."

"Has it occurred to you," Lucius asked in a low voice, "that I might be concerned for your safety as well?" He sat down again, the anger fading slightly as he reminded himself that Snape was always difficult to talk to, and this twisting conversation was not a surprise.

"Now I'm truly honored."

Lucius refrained from rolling his eyes at Snape's words and answered, "Like you said, Runcorn will make you his sacrificial lamb. Every moment you spend in the open is a moment he comes closer to catching you. Then you will be thrown to the Wizengamot, and we've all seentheir ideas of justice and mercy."

"The quality of mercy is not strained…" Snape muttered under his breath, reciting Shakespeare.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Quoting muggles now, are you?"

Snape didn't answer. Instead, he asked a question of his own. "Will you help me or not?"

Lucius sighed. Conversations with Snape often annoyed him to the point of wishing he was never friends with this sarcastic and frustrating man. But they were friends, and that was not something that was easily undone. Draco was alive because of this man, Narcissa had survived while he was in Azkaban because of this potions Master. From the moment Snape had expressed a need for assistance, Lucius had known exactly what his answer would be.

"Tell me what you need," Lucius said softly, "and it will be done."