Disclaimer: No way!
Author's Note: Thank you so much for the awesome reviews! I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter. It was certainly interesting to see Draco find out that bit of information. It was one of those things you only see in hindsight, of course, but it's fascinating to ponder how that would affect Draco. Merlin, I couldn't stand him in the first five books. Book 6 was an absolutely enormous wake-up call for him. He could no longer strut around the hallways bullying people. Instead, he got to see what being a Death Eater was really like. And he didn't like it at all.
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.
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The instant Severus Snape saw this morning's Daily Prophet, he knew he had to leave the Great Hall. He couldn't bear to sit there and listen as the buzz of conversation grew louder and louder. He despised eating in the Great Hall as it was - he loathed the inane babble of the students as they discussed things that he couldn't care less about. Nothing had changed from his own Hogwarts years; it was all about who was dating who, who was fighting with who, what they'd learned in their classes recently - it was all so nonsensical that he wanted to do nothing more than snarl at all of them. He had never understood why teenagers felt the need to talk about such inconsequential things.
With the finnesse and subtlety he was proud to possess, he stalked out of the room and down the corridor. Growing up, he had learned how to keep to the shadows and not alert people to his presence. As a teacher, this made it far easier to catch a wayward student partaking in wrongdoing, which happened incredibly frequently. Merlin, he hated children. He couldn't understand the other staff members like Minerva and Filius who thoroughly enjoyed teaching. Of all the careers he could have had, watching dunderheaded students destroy their cauldrons was the last thing he would have chosen.
He stood in the middle of the hallway and took a deep breath, strengthening the shields he always erected around his emotions. He reigned in the anger he felt - someone had been in the room during Crouch's confession. Someone who had hidden themselves, someone who had once again gotten past Snape's defenses. To have failed twice in such a short span of time filled him with a deep well of rage that churned in the pit of his stomach. He had not realized that the man he thought was Alastor Moody was actually an imposter, and he hadn't known that someone else was in the room while the ghastly plot to bring the Dark Lord back was being revealed.
It could have been another staff member who told the press; after all, they had all been informed of what had occurred. But he didn't think any of them would show such indiscretion. To have everything that had happened splashed all over the Daily Prophet was not a good thing at all.
At least it will give Potter more notoriety and fame, came the instant thought that entered his mind. It was so easy to get lost in the hate and derision that had swamped him ever since the boy had stepped foot in Hogwarts. But as soon as he thought this, the memory of Potter spending the night in his quarters, and the behavior he'd displayed in his detention last night when cleaning the cauldrons thrust itself into his mind. The contrary thoughts sent him into a haze of confusion. To make things even worse, the old Potter had shown himself as well, the angry, defiant little brat who didn't want to give him a possession that his oh-so-wonderful father had so lovingly crafted with his friends, the very thing that had made Severus's life a living hell here.
And then, there was Draco. He wondered how the child would react. He'd watched, helpless to do anything as the boy grew up idolizing his father and learning behaviors and values no civilized person should learn. He'd only interacted with children who were purebloods up until it was time for him to go to Hogwarts - his parents had made sure of that. The worst part was that Snape had to pretend to agree with every single thing Lucius said. The idiotic, stupid, abominably foolhardy mistake he'd made as an angry youth had doomed him forever when he'd promised to atone for his sins and spy on the Dark Lord. And even now, all these years after his downfall, the threat of his return forced Snape to continue playing a part. He had to look as though he was helping to guide Draco down the path towards service as a Death Eater, when all he wanted to do was lead him away from it. It wasn't fair, but it was the bed he had made; now he had to lie in it.
He'd been standing in the corridor, deep in thought when he was brought back to the present by loud, angry voices. He groaned inwardly - of course it would be them. Potter and Draco were no doubt throwing poisonous verbal taunts at each other again.
Thankfully, he wasn't very far away from them, so it didn't take him long to reach the yelling. "I'll hurt you for that one, Mudblood," he heard Draco snarl at Granger, pointing his wand at her.
A burst of blinding rage ripped through Snape at the use of that word by Draco once again. Did the stupid imbecile never learn? Those two syllables sent bolts of pain through Snape every time he heard them. A pair of lifeless emerald eyes flitted through his mind, and he shuddered. Lily. Those eyes would never stop haunting him.
And he could see a very much alive pair now, and they looked as angry as Lily's had been when he called her ... that word. He firmed up his Occlumency shields - now was not the time for wallowing in maudlin memories. He had to stop that unbelievably foolish boy from cursing the Granger girl. How many more of these situations was he going to have to witness? Would he ever be able to get through to Draco that he shouldn't provoke the so-called golden trio? Well, the golden quartet now, he thought bitterly as he saw a red-faced, furious Neville Longbottom standing with the three of them.
The confrontation that followed was entirely predictable. He couldn't show himself to be anything other than the man he'd always been, so he took points from Gryffindor. He almost took vindictive pleasure in doing so, however - Potter had been causing him so much turmoil lately, and it was almost comforting to go back to the status quo, just like it had been last night when the familiar feelings of loathing washed over him when Potter hesitated to hand over the so-called Marauder's Map. Weasley's red, enraged face made him want to snort. That boy could never keep his emotions in check; he was easier to read than the Standard Book of Spells, Grade One.
He'd found it rather amusing when Longbottom, as afraid of him as he was, had protested the deduction of points. Well, that just meant Snape had to take five more, didn't it? When that absolutely astoundingly idiotic Weasley boy opened his mouth again, Snape didn't miss the fact that Granger stepped on his foot. At least she had the sense to know a losing battle when she saw one. He was tempted to take even more points, but didn't want to drag this ridiculous confrontation on any longer.
So he marched Draco to his office, watching as Granger, looking so self-righteous it made him sick, dragged her companions to the Great Hall. Thank Merlin that's over with, he thought, feeling a headache coming on. Why did he have to deal with all this, again? All he wanted to do was sit in a laboratory and brew potions. No probing, judging Headmasters, no insane Dark Lords, no children of manipulative, blond aristocrats who had made the Dark Lord sound so alluring, and no messy-haired, green-eyed brats who forced him to drown in bitter memories and who made him want to explode every five seconds.
"Sit," Snape growled at Draco once they arrived in his office. "This instant."
Draco fixed him with an angry glare, but Snape saw past it. There was something in his eyes that the man had seen only a few days ago, the day after he had been transformed into a ferret. There was only one word for it - Draco's eyes were wounded. He looked like he'd just learned something awful, and was acting out to try and save himself from the ramifications of his discovery.
But truth be told, Snape couldn't quite get past the anger roiling through him. Before he spoke, he cast a Homenum Revelio around the room - he would not allow whoever had told the press about Barty Crouch to eavesdrop on this conversation as well. Thankfully, the spell only revealed himself and Draco inside the room.
"How many times, Draco?" he said in his lowest, most dangerous voice. "You must actually WANT to be expelled."
Draco's glare intensified, but Snape wasn't the least bit fooled. The look in the boy's eyes grew even more naked and vulnerable, and he was using the furious glare to cover it up. A sudden and unwanted realization came over Snape at that moment - he vividly remembered fixing the Headmaster with such a look after the Shrieking Shack incident. He was filled with so much rage and betrayal, but the feeling that had burned him from the inside out was a horrible, desperate, incredible hurt. He'd almost been killed, and yet the Headmaster cared more about a filthy werewolf receiving an education than he did Severus Snape's life. All he'd wanted was someone to care, and yet Dumbledore might as well be telling Snape that it was perfectly okay if he died. What was one less Slytherin in Hogwarts' esteemed halls?
Draco's livid voice pulled him back to the present, releasing him from the awful fact that within the last few days, both Draco and Potter had reminded him of himself decades before. "Do you like Potter, all of a sudden?" The boy's voice was childish and petulant. "You're always trying to stop me from attacking him."
"Do not accuse me of such a thing, Draco. Do you not care that I am attempting to keep you from losing your place at this school?" Snape snarled at the boy, feeling anger come over him anew.
"What does it matter?" Draco sneered, rage smoldering in his gray eyes. "Why would I want to be in this school anymore, when Dumbledore doesn't know who the bloody hell he's hiring as teachers?"
Ah, thought Snape as the truth slammed into him. Draco had realized, hadn't he? This was why he was behaving so abominably. He'd realized that the attack he'd suffered was perpetrated by someone he aspired to be like. Severus remembered those days all too well, the days when Lucius had spoken of a world where he would be adored, worshiped, and respected, a world where the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black would be buried six feet below the ground, where they could never attack him again. A world, he foolishly thought, where he could ask for mercy for Lily, where he would beg the Dark Lord to let her be an exception. She was magic personified, and she was different from all the other Muggle-borns. The Dark Lord would see that, and how would he be able to deny Severus anything? He could take her away from her evil sister, make her see that people like that weren't worth her breath.
A world, he knew now, that he had been a fool to believe would ever exist. Now he was in a world that he wanted to save his Slytherins from stepping foot into, but was barred from doing so by a desperate promise he had made to Dumbledore just after he'd seen Lily's lifeless body, after he'd stared into her empty, vacant eyes and watched all his dreams shatter. The way her eyes stared into nothingness - it was something he could never erase from his memories. Even the strongest Obliviate charm wouldn't rid him of it, Snape was sure. The fearful, terrified, pleading expression on her face ... that had been the last time Severus Snape had shed tears, and he vowed not to ever again.
And now, Snape was seeing Draco at one of the boy's most vulnerable moments. Fury and helplessness seized him - what was he supposed to do? In that single second, he wanted nothing more than to tell Draco the truth - that aspiring to be amongst the ranks of the Dark Lord was not worth the pain, the heartache, the bitterness, the bloodshed, the nightmares. He wanted to tell Draco that the world he was promised was nothing more than propaganda and pretty lies. He wanted to tell Draco that the values he'd been taught by his parents were not the right ones. Dumbledore still maintained that Snape had a conscience, but the man knew how ravaged, torn, and ruined it was. But in this moment, he wanted to do nothing more than save Draco from the hell his life would become if he succumbed to the darkness and let it take him. Snape had done so, and his life was empty and meaningless as a result. If the Dark Lord ever did return, Snape knew there was a part of him that would not mind dying at his hand, even if his death was drawn-out and excruciatingly painful. Better that than to live one more day in this existence bereft of any joy or hope.
Hope. Strangely, this was another emotion he felt now, mixed with the anger and helplessness. But this feeling was not for himself. His hope was for the boy sitting across from him, who was glaring at him in fury but whose eyes told a different story. Maybe Draco would work it out long before he was expected to take his place among the Death Eaters; maybe he could do it without Snape's assistance. It would take a long time for Draco to disassociate from the values that he had been taught, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for him.
"You read the Prophet this morning," Snape said slowly, choosing his words carefully. He could not give away his position - Draco had to continue thinking that his teacher and childhood mentor was loyal to the Dark Lord. Even though Draco was discovering some things, he couldn't at all trust that he wouldn't tell his father if there was any inkling that Snape was a traitor to the cause. Frustration and despair thrummed through him, continuously mixing with the inexplicable hope and causing him to go into an emotional tailspin.
"Of course I did," Draco sneered, maintaining his glare. "Potter saved the day again. Saved us from the big bad Death Eater."
Saved me from the big bad Death Eater, Draco didn't say, but Snape heard it. Draco's sheer shame and humiliation at having to be saved by Harry Potter matched his own feelings when James had saved him from the fangs of a bloodthirsty werewolf. Bitterly, Snape shoved the thought out of his mind.
He said nothing, realizing that if he antagonized the boy, Draco would only act more defensive and angry. It was only a matter of time before the boy let something slip - if he kept quiet, it would happen more quickly. This was something he'd learned about Draco, after watching over the boy ever since he was born.
And it happened sooner than Snape would have thought. After only several seconds of silence, Draco burst out, "Why did he attack me? He knows who I am! He's on my side!"
It was a good thing Snape had cast a silencing charm over the room, because Draco's voice was high-pitched and loud. As he watched, he saw Draco blink back tears. He knew that Lucius had drilled it into his son's mind that tears were a weakness, and Snape knew how completely betrayed Draco must feel to let them come so close to the surface. He viciously clamped down on a memory that was trying to show itself - his own pathetic Muggle father teaching him the same lesson, sneering at him as he sobbed over his mother lying bloody and bruised in their kitchen after he'd punched her for burning their dinner.
Snape didn't comment on Draco's tears, knowing the boy was trying to pull himself together. How could he explain any of this to Draco without giving anything away? You're a spy for a reason, his mind told him furiously. Think of something. Just tell him some plain facts.
"Draco," Snape said, his voice calm and level. "There are things about our world that you do not understand yet. You are young, and there are intricacies in the world of the Dark Lord that you do not comprehend at this time."
"Oh?" Draco's eyes flashed. "Do enlighten me," he said angrily.
Snape didn't appreciate the insolence, but decided not to reprimand Draco. He knew it was due to how wounded he felt that the boy was acting so rudely. "I can imagine that Crouch has a big problem with the fact that your father avoided Azkaban," he said slowly, hating to speak of such matters. He remembered how the man had treated him, and how Snape had been thoroughly fooled by it. He and Alastor Moody's relationship, after all, was full of hostility, so when Crouch treated him like scum, Snape saw no difference. It was very, very clever, and Snape still despised that he'd been so utterly hoodwinked.
"Why?" Draco snapped. "My father always said that all the Dark Lord's supporters would end up understanding why people like him pleaded Imperius. He'd have no supporters to return to if they all went to prison, until he planned an escape. And if he's so angry with my father, why did he take it out on me?"
"Crouch is unhinged," Snape said quietly. "Completely insane."
"That's why Dumbledore didn't know it wasn't his wonderful friend Moody, then," Draco said snidely. "He's always hiring idiots and lunatics. I can't wait until my father finds another reason to drive him out of the school."
Draco has a long way to go, Snape realized, and he had to stop himself from sighing. Well, what did you expect, Severus? he thought to himself. Just because Draco had been attacked by a madman who worshiped the Dark Lord didn't mean he would suddenly let go of the ideals he had held onto for years. And the idolization of his father - that ran deep. This was only the beginning of a long, hard road Snape hoped Draco would travel down.
"Draco." Snape's voice was firm and unyielding. "I know you are very angry right now. But please ..."
"Don't hurt Potter," Draco finished for him, jumping to his feet. "Or even attempt to curse the Mudblood. Don't even lay a wand on that pauper Weasel, and Longbottom? Oh, I have to give him a hug, right?"
"DRACO!" The urge to strangle the stupid little boy was so tempting that Snape literally had to clench his hands into fists. But another part of him knew he had approached this entirely wrongly - how could he have thought to lecture Draco when the boy had just been dealt a horrible blow?
"Fine!" Draco yelled as, for the second time in four days, he stormed out of Snape's office with nary a glance back.
And Snape let him go, just as he had the last time. Draco had to get through this on his own.
Snape slammed his fists down on his desk so hard that it caused him pain, but he didn't care.
He wanted to help Draco, but how could he? He wanted to steer him away from the Dark Lord, but how could he? He had to continue to convince people like the boy's father that he was still loyal to the cause. He couldn't be the one to help him realize that the darkness would not grant him what he desired.
Pain engulfed his heart as he also came to terms with the fact that if Draco was to stray from the path of the Death Eaters, the path towards the light would not be any easier. They wouldn't welcome him with open arms, would they? His father might have claimed Imperius, but there were so many who were not fooled by his easy charm and his polite, well-bred manners. His mother was rumored to be a sympathizer, too, and Snape knew it was true. And Draco's behavior since his arrival at Hogwarts certainly wouldn't endear him to those who stood against the Dark Lord.
But then he saw Potter's face in his mind's eye, Potter, who had defended him against Crouch's insanity, Potter who had looked furious at the treatment Draco had been subjected to. An instant later, however, the oh-so-familiar loathing suffused his mind, warring with the memories of a hurt, betrayed, vulnerable Potter who had blurted out that he'd had enough of everything, a shattered Potter who had stayed in his quarters and had smiled bitterly at him, making sarcastic comments about how he was so beloved. But how in Merlin's name could he be putting his hopes in Harry Potter, of all people, to show Draco down the right path? Just because Potter hadn't laughed at his torture didn't mean he would lift one single measly finger to help him.
And to make matters even worse, Snape had another detention with the brat tonight. This day was never going to end, was it?
Feeling his headache turn into a migraine, Snape retrieved a potion from one of his cabinets. If he had any chance of getting through seeing Potter's messy head and emerald eyes for any length of time today, he knew he could only survive it if his headache was gone.
It was one of those moments when he wished for nothing more than for the Dark Lord to have discovered his treachery before he was vanquished. Then, Severus Snape would never have had to keep existing.