It said something about Draco's stress that his first instinct was to twitch for his wand, rather than try to explain himself.

Severus shut that down fairly quickly though.

"Do not do anything stupid, Draco," he hissed, his voice like venom. "If you do not, I will stun you, inform the Headmaster of your activities, and have your parents come and collect you tomorrow. Is that what you want?"

Draco's only answer was a scowl and clenched fists.

"Sit, boy. This is the last time I'll tell you."

Slowly, reluctantly, the boy walked forward, trepidation in each footstep, until he plopped himself down in the chair before his desk, a glare on his face the entire time.

"Good. Now, we will sit and talk about this like grown wizards, not temperamental little witches, is that understood?"

A terse nod.

"Speak, Draco. You've been so eager to do that these days, what's stopping you now?"

"...yes, sir."

Snape let out a soft sigh, unheard by the boy before him. He was glad that Draco still had his wits about him. If Draco thought he even had a sliver of a chance against someone like him, his collapse from overuse of the potion must be right around the corner.

Then again, Draco is no slouch when it comes to dueling. And the potion probably evened the odds. After that, it would have come down to…well, luck.

"Good. Now, let's clear up some… misconceptions. You are not in trouble. This conversation will stay between us. I just want to know what is so important you are risking death for."

"...it's nothing important. Just a lark," the blonde boy muttered.

"...you're not a fool, Draco, and I hope you don't think me one. You are wise, wiser than you believe, and I know that you wouldn't waste such a powerful tool on a lark, as you say. Draco…you can trust me."

It took a solid minute before the boy spoke again.

"Why didn't you tell us about him?"

Severus frowned. "Him?"

The glare returned. "Voldemort."

It felt like a flash of fire flittered across his Mark, as it always did when someone mentioned his Master's name. Like a constant reminder that he was always there, always listening.

"Do not say his name-"

"You see?! That's exactly what I mean!" Draco yelled suddenly, slamming his fists on the table. 'What kind of leader forces you to fear his name? What kind of visionary tortures children? What kind of savior makes you feel like your only choices are death or following his fucked up plans to kill everyone in his path?"

Severus leaned back, surprised. He'd known that Draco had been punished by the Dark Lord over the summer, but he didn't think that it had been severe enough to make Draco question his allegiance.

He had thought that the boy was cozying up to Potter for some unknown plot of his to bring the boy closer to the Dark Lord. If Draco was genuinely changing sides…

"He was not always like that Draco," he explained. "His resurrection…it left him…impaired. Soon, he will stabilize, and he will more resemble the man we told you about."

"Liar," the blond hissed with such certainty that it made Severus blink, taken aback. "You've always feared him. You always acted like this when you were discussing him. Maybe back then, he knew how to hide it, but everyone in the Inner Circle, they knew, didn't they?"

You knew, went unsaid.

"The Dark Lord is kind to those who earn his favor," Severus replied. Not quite a defense and they both understood that. "To be accepted by him, to be treated as an equal by him…it is an honor that not many are worthy of-"

"Fucking. Bull. Shit."

Severus' blood froze.

"You and Mom and Dad and even the fucking House Elves told me that I would never have to bow to anyone. That as a Malfoy, I belonged at the top. As a pureblood, I was worthy of a life of luxury. That as a wizard, I was graced with magic."

Draco was standing now, and his fury was almost palpable.

"But all of a sudden, some loser from the dead who can't manage a straight fucking win against a dope in glasses who didn't even know magic existed five years ago shows up, and all of that goes out the window?"

Severus was suddenly distinctly glad that the Dark Mark actually couldn't be used as a listening device because if the Dark Lord ever heard Draco's true thoughts, the entire Malfoy lineage would be dead before dawn.

"And you think siding with someone like Potter and his merry band of Gryffindors will change things?" he asked with a sneer. "Do you truly think that begging Dumbledore for mercy will be any different than begging the Dark Lord? The only difference is Dumbledore will smile kindly as he sends you to your doom."

That damnable old man…he had repented for his sins. He had made up for his sake. Potter's spawn was still alive. Lily's eyes still looked upon the world with wonder. He had saved twice as many as he had killed and healed thrice as many as he had tortured. And despite it all, here he was yet again, caught between two masters, chains on his neck threatening to split him in two.

He did not want Draco to suffer that fate. Dumbledore would not shy away from making the boy Severus' successor should he one day fail to please the Dark Lord.

He was very good at sacrificing the lives of those he deemed acceptable. The original Order of the Phoenix was proof enough of that.

The sneer that Draco threw back in his face was worthy of his father. "Oh please. Just because you're comfortable kneeling at the whims of old men whose glory days are long past doesn't mean that I'm the same."

The sting of the insult almost made him want to curse his fool of a godson…until he registered what he truly said.

"What?"

Draco's fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. "This…this shit can't continue," he said, his voice low. "The ostracization of Slytherins. Continuous service to Dark Lords. Resented by the British Wizarding World as a whole. Unable to make a home for ourselves anywhere but the nests of snakes…this can't go on."

Severus let out a sigh. He couldn't deny it; he'd had the same thoughts many times. But…

"No one can change how the world looks at us. Not even you, as skilled as you are."

Draco bit his lip, mulling something over in his mind for a solid minute until he finally spoke.

"But power can."

Severus stared at him warily. "What do you mean by that?"

He had just implied that he wasn't going to follow Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. So where was he going to get this so-called power from?

"A proficiency in wandless magic. A collection of diverse spells that others are not aware of. Mastery of wordless magic. An innate understanding of runes and spell crafting."

Draco's eyes were defiant as he spoke.

"Those are the hallmarks of a powerful wizard, are they not?"

"...they are some," Severus admitted cautiously. Where was Draco going with this? "But not all. Skill in dueling, charisma, and a good amount of raw talent are needed to be considered one of the greatest."

"...and what if you cheat?" Draco asked, his voice nearly a whisper. "What if you used every resource available you could to grab that edge? If you found shortcuts to replicate powers that you were told were impossible? If you borrowed principles from a culture you were told was worthless? If you could cheat your way to the top, or, at the very least, make yourself look like you belonged there…then couldn't you be considered one of the greats?"

Draco extended his hand, and the flask of Felix Felicis flew from Severus' hand to Draco's.

It was only natural for his eyes to widen.

"H-how did-"

"I figured it out!" Draco said, joy and triumph in his voice. "It was never as hard as they said it was! The key was the gestures! Most people who use wandless magic still have to make some kind of gesture, to make a movement of some kind that they believe will release the magic held inside them. We had dozens of foci before wands, and they all required one thing.

"Us.

"We count as foci. Our blood, our bones, our skin, every single bit of us is as magical as any magic creature! Yes, the spell will be weaker, and it will be diminished in power because foci are multipliers as much as they are tools, but they'll still be cast! I had to reverse-engineer it through the use of subtraction. You have to master the spell in its entirety before you can cast it wandlessly. I can only do four right now, but the potion has been guiding me, helping me remember the lessons my mother and father paid for all those summers ago, to help me find the knowledge I need to progress. I understand what those people were trying to teach me now!"

Severus could only stare at Draco with wonder as he listened to his godson ramble on in excitement, a fervor in his voice, red splotches of excitement on his cheeks as he spoke.

Severus had heard this style of speaking before. The excitement of figuring out an essential part of magic on the path to power.

Once, in a wicked tone, as a demon in human skin figured out how to use the blood of Muggleborn wizards and witches to increase his own magical power using a dark ritual no one had managed to figure out in decades.

And once again, with a gentle man with blue eyes of burning determination, creating a curious device that could steal light sources of any kind.

Draco sounded like the Dark Lord and Dumbledore when they had figured out a puzzle that had eluded them for so long.

"-and not to mention, I've been modifying spells for my own use as well with this new method-"

"You've been what?" he asked sharply. "Draco, messing with spells is dangerous!"

"Yeah, I know that," the boy said, rolling his eyes. "I'm just subtracting parts of the spell; the need for the incantation and the gestures, so all I have to do is think and point."

Wait, this part sounded a bit familiar.

"And how would you accomplish such a thing?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

Draco gave him a bright smile. "In our first potions class this year, I found an old book."

Oh.

"The owner had terrible handwriting, but he was a genius. He created a spell called Levicorpus, which had a nonverbal incantation and a very simple hand movement that he was planning to erase."

Oh, no.

"Called himself the Half-Blood Prince. Bit of a poncy name, but hey, with his spell crafting skills, I guess he didn't need to be humble," Draco said with a shrug. And yet, there was a little smirk of amusement on his face.

Brat, he thought with fondness.

"...all of that aside, you need to stop taking the Felicis."

Draco shook his head. "Can't. I need it, even if it's only for a few hours of the day. What I'm working on is too big for me to stop now. It'll all crumble if I stop taking it this early."

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. This damnable boy; technically, Felix was not a restricted item in the school, mostly because it was such a rare and highly sought-after substance that no one would imagine that they would waste it on such a thing as school.

But Draco was working on something bigger than just schoolwork. He was aiming to stand next to Dumbledore and Voldemort, and change the reputations of Slytherin's…somehow.

He needed all the luck he could get.

But he didn't want his godson to die in a pool of golden vomit either.

"Fine. A compromise, then. I will give you an enchanted dropper that will only allow you to take enough for two hours' worth of luck each day. In return, every Saturday and Sunday, you will come here and take a detoxing potion, and will not touch the Felicis again until the weekend is over. I will trust that you will only use the dropper, and not continue to dose yourself. In return, none of this conversation will leave this dungeon. Is that clear?"

He expected a thank you, maybe even a handshake.

The hug he was brought into seemed to surprise the both of them.

"Thanks, Sev," Draco muttered, and for just a few moments, Severus was reminded of the little boy with silver hair who used to watch him make potions with awe, wanting to see more of 'Uncle Sev's Magic.'

He awkwardly patted the boy on the back, and pretended that the block in his throat was due to the residual fumes of potions in the rooms.

"Hey, can I borrow one of the unused potions classrooms during the week?"

Severus frowned. "Why?"

The boy crossed his arms, a mock glare on his face. "I just need it. Can you trust me on that, Sev?"

"It's Professor Snape to you," he retorted. "And…yes. You may."

If Draco was going to do something dumb, then at least he could keep an eye on the boy. He seemed to overestimate the power of the potion. Felix did it's best to make the best of any situation, but if you did something extremely dangerous, the only thing you could say afterward was that 'you're lucky only half your face got permanently scarred.'

It was only a few minutes after Draco left that Severus realized that the boy had never looked him directly in the eyes during that entire time.

How lucky for him.

"Cocky brat."

For a very long time, Pansy Parkinson had been afraid of Draco Malfoy.

She hid it well, though. She laughed at his jokes. She clung to his arm. She preened at his attention, and she acted like Draco's words meant the world to her. It was very easy for her to do.

After all, her mother had been doing it for years.

Her father had a horrible temper and was a mean and rough man, but her mother knew just the right way to cook his dinner, the right way to pamper him, and the right way to get what she needed without fists and wands getting involved.

"When you fear a man," her mother had once whispered to her, "you get closer to him. You make him think that he is a gift to the earth. You make him happy, and you learn how to stop what makes him sad. That way, when you've gotten over your fear, you can decide whether to keep him… or dispose of him."

So she had done the same thing with Draco. She had given him all her attention, all her praise, and all her time. She wanted Draco to think of her as a sycophant, a follower who would obey him at all costs.

Because the truth was, she didn't really have a choice.

House Malfoy, for some reason, had taken an avid interest in House Parkinson. When her father faced Azkaban, Lucius Malfoy was there to save the day, burning gold and favors alike. He had done the same for the Crabbe and Goyle families and made it clear to all of them that with the Dark Lord gone, that meant their allegiance was now to him.

And so, before little Pansy had understood exactly what freedom was, it was swiftly taken away from her.

Crabbe and Goyle had been delegated to muscle, to make sure that the Malfoy Heir was never harmed.

And she? She had been relegated to… well, whatever Malfoy needed, as her father had cruelly put it.

"I don't care if the kid uses you as a meat shield, a wife, or just a roll in the hay," her father had told her, acrid smoke from his mouth stinging her eyes. "Just make him happy. Last thing we need is Lucius Malfoy deciding that our debt to him needs to increase. You're a girl, aren't you? Your mother is supposed to teach you this stuff. A witch's proper place in our world. Easier for you than if you'd been a boy, though. Better to warm a bed than to… well, you don't need to worry now, do you?"

He had chuckled after that, seemingly unconcerned at how casually he had thrown away his only child.

She could handle Malfoy. His disdain of Muggles and Muggleborns, his fervent worship of the Dark Lord, his crass humor, and raging tantrums. In a way, she grew to like it. Draco was like a child, really. He was so much simpler than her father, who wanted to make everything a test of loyalty to him. Draco took the world at face value, and a few honeyed words here and there were enough to calm him.

After hearing that he would host the Dark Lord for the summer, she expected his arrogance to increase tenfold. A bit of a challenge, but one she figured she was ready for.

Until she had greeted Draco on the train and instantly noticed the giant scar marring his perfect face.

Until she noticed the almost frantic look in his eyes, watching everything and nothing all at once, like he was being hunted by a predator only he could see.

Until she had noticed how quiet and withdrawn he had seemed, looking like he wanted to fade into the background.

And every day, she watched him change more and more. He was friendlier now, if that was the word. Fairer too. He studied at odd hours, abusing his prefect privileges to sneak into the library after hours. He looked after the first years. Distanced himself from the rest of them. Started consorting with Potter and his crew.

It terrified her.

It threw everything she knew about Draco out the window. She didn't know how to handle him now. She didn't know what pleased him, what made him happy, how to make him consider her as…important to him. Every attempt to bridge the gap only furthered it.

Making fun of Mudbloods caused cringes to flash across his face.

Praising the Dark Lord only darkened his mood.

Even the cruel jokes about snuffing Muggles (jokes that he used to make!) just caused a wooden expression to form before he excused himself.

And as much as she feared Draco Malfoy… she missed him too.

He was a constant in her life. Despite his morbid jokes, he made her laugh. Despite his dismissive attitude, he always asked after her. Despite his raging tempers, he knew enough to stop when she flinched, and would even mutter apologies to her when they were alone.

He wasn't perfect, but he was far better than her father, and wasn't that enough? Wasn't that requisite enough to fall in love with someone? To have them treat you better than anyone else in your life?

She knew she wasn't pretty. A lot of girls told her she had the face of a pug as an insult, and sadly enough, she could see where they were coming from. Her eyebrows were a bit too big, her lips a tad too thin, her skin just a touch too sallow, and her body bony and full of sharp angles.

But Draco hadn't seemed to mind. He let her touch him. He even seemed to enjoy it. It was one of the things that let her daydream about a life with him, where she was the new Mrs. Malfoy, and she could finally get some respect in their world.

But those had been her dreams with the old Draco. This new one was persona non grata in Slytherin. Orders from the upper years were to isolate him and leave him be. The Malfoy family could handle their own business. Touching this might set off a political bomb that none of them were ready for.

But Pansy couldn't help herself. She followed him; at a distance, of course. Just to make sure he was okay. Just to know where he was.

To have some kind of control over the situation.

And it was on one of her expeditions, to her horror, that she found him vomiting a veritable ocean of that horrible-smelling green and gold liquid into an abandoned corridor. She had watched him retch for a solid minute before he finally released it all over the corridor floor, and an entire twenty seconds passed uninterrupted as Draco released more fluid from his body than she knew the human body could expel.

Then he just stood up, wiped his mouth, Vanished it all, and then walked away, like he hadn't spent a significant amount of time purging his body of something that clearly did not belong there.

She had laughed hysterically for quite a while after that.

Of course, she had to tell Professor Snape.

Was this why Draco had changed so much over the summer? Had the Dark Lord…cursed him somehow? Was Draco slowly dying?

That thought had scared her more than anything she'd ever realized.

She did not want Draco to die. She didn't want to keep pretending she didn't want to talk to him. Not if he was dying. She didn't want things to end like that, no matter how she felt about him.

So she waited for him to leave Snape's dungeon. She didn't know exactly what to say to him, so she just waited in an alcove, her body shivering in the dungeon's frigid cold. She never did understand why the dungeons couldn't be heated up like the rest of the castle.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long. It barely took thirty minutes for the meeting to be over, and Draco came out with a hopeful expression, so she could count on him being in a good mood, at least.

When he was only a few feet away, she stepped out of the alcove, and he stopped dead, surprise on his face.

"Pansy? What are you doing here?" he asked, utterly confused.

She opened her mouth to reply…only for nothing to come out. She…honestly didn't know why she was here. She wanted to see Draco and wanted to talk to him…but she didn't know what to say.

"I thought you were mad at me," the blond boy continued.

That jolted her into speaking. "Why would I be mad at you?"

He shrugged. "Seems everyone is these days. They think I'm a traitor, a sellout."

"...I don't," she said softly. "And neither does Crabbe. He misses you, I think."

He looked at her in shock. "He does? I never thought…huh."

"What are you doing, Draco?"

"You mean like here, specifically, or—"

"The thing you're doing with the Gryffindors. Acting weird. Helping Potter," she clarified. "I thought you hated him."

Draco let out a sigh. "It's complicated."

"No, it's not. They hate us. Everyone hates us. We're better off with each other. I don't understand why you're being nice to them; Weasley looks like he wants to gut you half the time, Potter acts like you're the scum of the earth, and Granger pretends that you're not worthy enough to clean her robes. They've hated us since day one; why are you giving up everything to help them?"

And she truly meant everything. If this ever got back to the Malfoys, or worse yet, the Dark Lord, either Draco would be dead, tortured, or disowned, and she honestly didn't know which was worse.

"This is a lot bigger than you think, Pansy."

"It doesn't have to be. Come back with me," she pleaded. "Let's go back to normal. You don't have to laugh at the jokes anymore. Just…just let the Dark Lord do what he has to do and don't interfere. We can go back to normal!"

Everything can make sense again.

Slowly, Draco moved forward and gently took her hands in his. She stared at him, entranced. Draco had never bothered to be gentle with her was…new.

"Pansy," he said softly. "Things will never get better for us this way. We can't keep serving every Dark Lord that comes our way, praying for one of them to give us what we want. All they've ever done is step on our backs and grind us into the dirt."

"The Dark Lord—"

"Will die," Draco said with such confidence that her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. "He will die at the hands of Potter, broken and alone. He will die like every other Dark Lord before him, and every Dark Lord after him. We can't live like this; cycling through madman after madman, allowing them to drown us in the mud, hoping that one of them will bring the change we want. I know you don't believe any of that shite about Muggles and Muggle-borns. You never did."

"I-I…"

No, she never really had. She didn't think any of them actually thought that Muggles were inferior to them. After all, if wizards were so great, why were they the ones in hiding instead of the Muggles?

"Pansy, I know I haven't been a good friend to you. I've come to the realization that I'm not even that good of a person. But I want you to give me a second chance. A do-over."

He gave her hands a soft squeeze.

"Join me. Not the Dark Lord. Not your parents. Not whoever the Purebloods tell you to follow because their mother fucked their second cousins—"

She couldn't help the unhinged giggle that came out, and Malfoy's smile looked a little wild too.

"But me. The annoying kid you've been following since our first year. I know your family owes mine a debt. I know that's why you supported me at first. But I'm hoping that even with all the bad things I did, you trust me enough to keep you safe, like I have all these years."

"...I'm scared," she admitted, her eyes burning. "He's killed dozens of us, just for not joining him. What if you're wrong?"

The hug he pulled her into was surprising enough to make her freeze in shock.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "If everything goes to shit, we'll just find another ugly little marked child and a frail old wizard, and throw the lot of them at the Dark Lord. He seems to be having performance issues when it comes to those kinds of opponents."

The laugh that bubbled up inside of her made her relax, and tentatively, she returned the hug.

As odd and flipped around as everything was right now…she could get used to this new Draco.

Pansy lingered in the hug, feeling the warmth of Draco's arms around her, something she had never experienced before. She had grown so used to his coldness, his arrogance, and now this… vulnerability was disarming. She honestly didn't know if it was a good or bad thing.

When they finally pulled apart, Draco gave her a small, uncertain smile. It was a far cry from his usual smirks and sneers.

"Thank you, Pansy," he said quietly, his voice sincere in a way that made her heart ache. "For giving me a chance."

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wasn't sure what she was stepping into by agreeing to this. Betraying the Dark Lord—even in thought—was unthinkable. But Draco was right about one thing: nothing about their world would ever change if they kept repeating the same mistakes.

"What happens now?" she asked softly, her voice trembling slightly. Could you blame her: they were planning to go against the Dark Lord! He'd killed so many magical families like they were flies beneath his palms, and right now, they were relying on Potter to be the one to end him.

Draco's smile turned grim, the softness in his eyes hardening into determination. "Now, I keep doing what I've been doing. There's a lot to prepare for. Potter has his plans, and while I think they're half-baked, they're better than the alternatives. I'm going to help him."

Pansy stared at him, wide-eyed. "Help him? You're going to openly fight against… against Him?"

Draco nodded his head. "Yeah, but not for a while. I've been making sure that people know that I'm different now, supporting him in small ways here and there. There's things need to do, spells I need to get up to snuff, items I need to finish enchanting, that kind of thing."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Pansy asked, crossing her arms defensively.

Draco hesitated for a moment, then reached out to touch her shoulder. "You do what you've always done, Pansy. Survive. Keep your head down, and play your part. You're better at that than anyone I know."

The compliment caught her off guard. She wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or flattered.

"But," Draco continued, "if there's ever a chance to act, to do something that matters, I hope you'll trust me enough to take it. We can't do this alone. I can't do this alone. We'll meet in secret for now; it's best to have you where the other Slytherins are. They'll tell you things that they won't tell me now."

Pansy's heart sank at his words. He was putting so much trust in her, and yet she wasn't sure she could live up to it. But the look in his eyes, that mix of hope and desperation, made it impossible to refuse him.

"I'll try," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how much help I'll be, but… I'll try."

Draco smiled again, and for a fleeting moment, she could almost see the boy he used to be.

"That's all I need," he said.

As he turned to leave, Pansy reached out and grabbed his arm. "Draco, wait."

He looked back at her, his expression curious.

"You're not… dying, are you?" she blurted out, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

Draco blinked, then let out a short laugh. "No, Pansy. I'm not dying. Not yet, anyway. I've just been… experimenting with something. It's nothing to worry about."

She didn't believe him, not entirely, but she decided not to press the issue. For now, she was just relieved that he wasn't about to drop dead in their next class. maybe Professor Snape had fixed him?

"Take care of yourself, okay?" she said, her voice softer now.

Draco nodded. "I will. And you do the same."

With that, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving Pansy standing alone in the cold dungeon.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as she leaned back against the stone wall. Everything was changing so fast, and she wasn't sure how much more she could take.

But as terrifying as it all was, there was a strange flicker of hope inside her.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like she wasn't just drifting along, following the currents of other people's decisions.

Maybe, just maybe, she could chart her own course.

And if Draco Malfoy, of all people, could change… then maybe she could too.