I followed Poppy Pomfrey solemnly back along the halls between my study and her's, my stomach twisting painfully with nerves. No doubt Draco had repeated the resentments I had only just learned that he was harbouring towards me, no doubt she had been able coax the entire sorry story from the boy's lips - her easy way with the young was, of course, the very reason we there now - and no doubt, in her eyes, I was far from the hero of the tale. From an objective point of view, I would go so far as to say I was on par with Lucius as far as war crimes and wrong-doings went. Hardly a fair conclusion, I would like to add, but a logical one none the less.

"Is there anything that can be done?" I asked, half a moment after the door had closed to grant us our privacy. "Is there anything you can do for him?" We remained standing, the two chairs set formally out for our meeting forgotten in my impatience for information. The Hogwarts matron was our one and final hope: for closure from the godawful business with Southard, for hope for Draco, and for our own undeserved salvation. Draco had been right - of course he had - we were doing this, Lucius and I, for ourselves, in the desperate hope that forcing the issue would result in redemption. Whether this ended in success of failure, it was almost irrelevant - our mantra, the shield for us to quail behind, of We Did What We Could was bitterly honest.

Poppy sighed deeply and raised a hand as though to run a fretful hand through her hair, but let it flop back to her side. The sight of the staunch nurse appearing so ruffled worried me desperately. I had been certain - a hundred percent at the very least - that she would come through for us. She shook her head and gave the tiniest, sorriest of shrugs with a softly reprimanding, "You've left it very late, Severus."

The lump of nervousness dissolved into a sickening liquid that pooled and set in the pit of my stomach. "Too late?" I just about managed to get out, feeling blindly for the arm of a chair to lower myself into as my legs liquidised beneath me.

"For the most part, yes. Had you come to me three months ago or - Merlin forbid - done what ought to have been done straight away, it would almost have been a simple procedure. As it is..."

"But there must be something?" I didn't care that I was begging; if there was ever a time when something was worth begging for, it was this. "Please! A...a drug, or anything-"

Poppy's eyes narrowed coolly, her arms weaving into a critical fold across her chest. "As I told you," she said tersely. "If you had done what you ought to have done a the proper time, there would be many more options available to Draco. What on earth possessed you to keep it hidden, Severus?" I ducked my head as shame seared into me. "You are not a stupid man," she continued angrily. "Surely, surely, you must have been aware of the consequences of not treating such a wound straight away? You must have known how it would fester?" Her voice was imploring now, beseeching me to give her a valid reason for my irresponsibility. But there was none. It had simply been a matter of not thinking. I kept my eyes on the ground and my lips pressed together like the guilty child I felt transformed into, with nothing worthy to say.

With a low, disgusted sound, Madame Pomfrey moved around me and took up her seat by her desk, making it quite plain that I had exhausted my time to speak with her as a friend and that we were now in a strictly professional capacity.

"There is a single option left," she told me stiffly. "It is by no means guaranteed to work, but at this point it is far and beyond the only thing that even has a chance. In any other circumstance I wouldn't even suggest it - it is painful, damaging and most definitely a last resort - I would much rather suggest palliative care, something gentle and non-invasive that would help Draco learn to live with what he has suffered through, but it is quite clear to me that that is not a valid option for the boy."

I forced myself to raise my head and face the contemptuous glare I was being shot, wishing more than anything that I could promise the peace and quiet to Draco that she wanted to prescribe him. Even at his very best, even in his most congenial fatherly state, I could not forsee Lucius dedicating himself single mindedly to his son's recovery. "What is it, this option? What does it entail?"

`"It's an extraction," she said with an air of enormous gravity, steepling her fingers before her. "A complete extraction of the memory, leaving no trace behind. As one would a rotten tooth."

"But this had so much leading directly up to it," I said, frowning, not quite understanding. "And so many consequences. To remove it in its entirety would be-"

"Bordering impossible, yes I know." Poppy sighed again, a vein in her temple throbbing visibly. "But it is the only physical remedy I can suggest. As I say, it is incredibly invasive and I can not in good conscience recommend it, per say, but..." She dropped her gaze suddenly, guiltily, "Draco has already asked for it, begged for it even. He believes that if he forgets, and if everybody behaves as though it never happened, it will be equal to it never happening at all. For all concerned," she added with a pointed look in my direction.

Dismayed, I shook my head and closed my eyes. "Get it out!" I could imagine Draco pleading with her. "I just want it out! I just want to everything to go back to how it was before!"

Before I came and ruined any semblance of equilibrium that existed in the Malfoy household.

"I suppose I have no right to an opinion in the matter?" I asked dully, looking very much forward to the bottle of muggle paracetamol I kept in my bedside drawer. "It will be Lucius who signs the paperwork."

"It will," Poppy agreed. Then, to my surprise, her face softened as she continued. "But you love Draco, as much as the most devoted father could, and that counts for a lot, Severus, even if not on paper. Continue to do that and nobody can fault you. Especially that boy. Children don't need much, and if Draco knows he has you on his side, he is far luckier than half the children that come through there doors." She shot me a rueful smile as she rose, indicating the culmination of our short meeting. "And don't you forget it, Severus Snape."

Draco's smouldering fury had subsided almost to the point of nonexistence by the time I came to return. Perched on the edge of a chair and half slumped across my desk, he turned abruptly at the sound of my arrival; as ever, acutely aware of any and every movement outside of himself - the advantage of the perpetual victim.

Lingering by the door, still not certain which kind of welcome I would receive from my highly volatile godson, and offered a small smile. "Hi."

Draco regarded me with equal uncertainty. "Hi."

"You okay?"

He nodded unconvincingly, sucking in his bottom lip. "Mmmhmm."

I struggled to know how to begin, what to even say that might do some good, that wouldn't be misconstrued as empty, placating words. Draco's eyes were wide and staring as he waited for me to say something that would make everything okay and fix the rift that had cracked between us. He wanted to go back, to how things were before they had been blown up and complicated beyond redemption.

Inspiration never came and I watched, despising myself, as with every word I couldn't speak, the coldness began to harden Draco's countenance once more.

I stopped thinking and allowed myself to go into automatic. It took three strides to be by Draco's side and half a moment until his lithe body was wrapped securely up in my arms, his head nestled in the safe place in the crook of my neck. I hummed a low, tuneless melody as I held him, one which reverberated deep in my chest, and gradually I felt the tension give way to the softness I remembered from he beginning. His arm curled around mine, holding on tight as he burrowed deeper, seeking out the affection he had been so afraid of for so long.

His hair was still baby-soft where I rested my chin, and if I closed my eyes I could easily make-believe that we were still in the rooms of Malfoy Manor that had once been mine, reading together before dinner, or talking through the strange ways of the world in the middle of the night when a worry would have Draco knocking cautiously on my door. It was almost as though we had returned to our own kind of normal.

Perhaps we could. Perhaps some things truly are best forgotten. Perhaps.