“What was that book you and Granger borrowed from Draco?” Severus asked Harry the next day at their weekly meeting.

“Something he lent me for the essay we turned in, Moon Stone Properties or something like that.”

“I see. You do realize that anything the Malfoys have is likely to be,” he paused as though searching for an appropriate word.

“Dark?” Harry supplied. “

Yes.” Severus looked closely at him.

“I know. Quite a lot of the book is, actually, but some of it isn’t.”

“I am not teaching you Dark Magic, Potter, that is just a front.” He was using a very soft, deadly-serious tone of voice and concern created little crinkles around his eyes.

“I know that, Professor Snape. I’m not going to ask you to. I don’t really want you to. But Draco does need to believe that I am learning this stuff.”

“Be careful, Harry. And don’t let your friends get dragged into it, either. You will never forgive yourself if you do.”

The older man spoke with an intensity that frightened Harry. “You mean Hermione.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll talk to her tonight.”

“See that you do.” Harry nodded and looked down for a minute. Severus just watched him. He needed this young man before him to understand what he was doing, what exactly the danger he was flirting with was. He did not want the boy to become like him.

Harry glanced back up at him and gave him an odd, small smile. It was faintly reassuring, but it did not completely erase the crease between the Slytherin’s eyebrows. “I’ll be careful.”

“I’d rather you didn’t read it at all. Whatever you do, Harry, don’t do anything you’ll spend your life regretting. And you will regret it. It may take some time to realize that you do, but eventually you will.”

“I didn’t actually read all of those parts, I sort of skimmed most of them. Just to get an idea of what to put in my essay.” Severus breathed a tiny sigh of relief but could not rid himself of a nagging sense of worry and foreboding. “Don’t worry,” Harry told him.

Severus still felt that Harry didn’t understand, but saw that he wasn’t likely to be able to explain it then. He sincerely hoped that Harry never understood.

“Did I tell you Ron found out about Draco and me yesterday?”

The teen was clearly trying to lighten the mood and Severus let him. “No, you haven’t. Was it as bad as you were expecting?”

“Not really. He was angrier that I didn’t tell him than he was that I was doing it in the first place.”

“I understand that is often the case with friends. I doubt, however, that young Mr. Weasley allowed this offence to pass unpunished.”

“Nah, he gave me this candy at the game that made me stand up and sing ‘I’m a Little Teapot’ with the little dance.”

“You ate something a Weasley gave you?” Snape looked nonplussed.

“Well, I was distracted,” Harry excused himself, “besides, I had it coming.”

Snape rolled his eyes, mostly in amusement though also in exasperation. “What else have you done this week?” he asked, preparing to begin testing Harry with legilimancy as they moved on to slightly less serious topics.

“Well,” Harry began, launching into a recital of some of the weeks more interesting occurrences as well as relating some of the funnier antics that had taken place in the common room.

Later that afternoon, Harry arrived back in Gryffindor tower and looked around the common room for Hermione. To his not-so-great surprise she was curled up in a chair near the fireplace with an open book on her knees. “Hey ‘Mione,” he said as he sat down next to her. “What are you reading?”

She looked up and blinked at him before smiling in greeting. “It’s a supplement for my arithmancy class. It’s all about the ancient Greeks and how they began using the Arabic numeral system.”

“Sounds interesting,” Harry said, thinking that it sounded too dry for him. He glanced around and, seeing no one near, continued, “I wanted to talk to you about that book we borrowed.”

“Right. I’m finished with it, actually, so if you want to return it to Malfoy tomorrow, that would be fine.”

“That sounds good,” Harry nodded. “Actually, I was just talking to Snape and he’s really concerned about it. He’s worried that we may not recognize how dangerous the magic is.”

“The Dark Magic?” Hermione asked with a wry smile. Harry nodded. “Well, you needn’t worry about me, Harry, because I certainly have no desire to read any more about it. It’s disturbing. Interesting, but disturbing. Besides, there are so many other things,” she broke off and smiled at him, then frowned a little. “You are giving the book back, right?”

“Yes,” he assured her, “I don’t want it either.” There was a far away look in his eyes as he said, “I think I’ve had enough of it in my life.”

“I think so, too,” she said firmly. “I’ll pass it back to you tomorrow, and then you can return it in potions, that way Professor Snape will know that we gave it back.”

“Good idea.”

Harry stared into the flames and Hermione smiled at him again before returning to her book. Neither of them stirred again until Ron returned from Quidditch practice and dragged them off to dinner and then back for a game of chess.

Meanwhile, Draco was busy with his own tasks on Sunday. Carefully, he penned a letter to his father and then carried it up to the owlery where he sent it off with the family owl. He watched the bird fly away in happy anticipation; he could hardly wait for his father’s answer.

The next day in Potions class Hermione and Harry once again approached the prince of Slytherin. “We wanted to return this to you,” Harry said as he nodded a greeting and held out the book.

Hermione nodded as well and said, “Thank you again for lending it to us.”

“Did you like it?” Draco asked with a smirk.

“It was most informative,” Harry replied blandly.

Draco’s smirk grew a little and he tucked the tome into his bag. “I’ll let you know if I get anything else that might be useful,” the blonde assured them politely.

“Thanks.”

Draco nodded and shouldered his bag before making his way out the door. The two Gryffindors shared a glance out of the corner of their eye and then followed the other out the door. They had another class to get to.

Unnoticed, at the front of the room, Severus heaved a small sigh of relief.

On Wednesday morning a regal looking owl landed in front of Draco at the breakfast table and allowed the youth to remove the letter it was carrying from its talon. He opened the letter there, presuming with a frown that if he could receive the letter in public it would be safe to read it there also.

It was, as he expected, from his father, though there was no outward sign to indicate that. It might be publicly known that Lucius Malfoy had escaped Azkaban, but it would be disastrous for anyone to find out that his son and wife actually knew where he was.

The note, while longer than the first, was equally disappointing, possibly even more so. Draco was congratulated on his success and ordered to continue his efforts. It was also suggested that he might use his position as leverage to split up the Gryffindor Trio. No mention was made of the plan except for these instructions, and no explanation was given.

Draco crumpled the parchment in his fist and shoved the ball into his pocket. He would burn it later, no sense in drawing too much attention to himself.

Draco had not gotten over his disappointment that day, nor did he show any signs of cheering up the next day. They were dueling in three groups of eight in DADA, the groups of four who had previously worked separately now paired to resist the other groups. The Slytherin prefect was impatient and it showed. He failed to smile at Harry’s approach, as he had made it a point to do in the past, and the there was something in his air which reminded Potter of Dudley, just after he had been told no. “Hello,” he offered tentatively.

Draco barely acknowledged the greeting and immediately complained, “What is the point of this exercise? We’ve been pairing up and combining and pairing and splitting for weeks now, and there’s no point.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Harry said and was glared at for his troubles. “Does it really matter what the point is?” he asked. The other gave him a blank look. “Well, it is fun, right? And at least we don’t have to memorize anything new, we can be creative.”

“I suppose,” Draco grudgingly replied, crossing his arms as he waited for the rest of the groups to organize themselves. Soon they were all engaged in open battle, and some of Malfoy’s grumpiness was channeled away into his spells.

“What was Malfoy’s problem?” Ron asked later as the trio was doing the customary tactics essay in front of the fire.

“He was just in a bad mood, I guess. He didn’t say what was bothering him.”

“He was putting more power into his hexes today than usual,” Hermione commented.

“I think it annoyed him that he couldn’t immediately identify the point of dueling for so long. Especially when we have the same partners over and over.”

Hermione looked up at him for a moment then returned to her book saying, “That could be. I would have thought he had figured it out by now though.”

Ron looked at the bushy-haired girl fondly and rolled his eyes. “Well I haven’t,” he said, “not that I’m complaining about getting to duel in class though.”

“Honestly,” Hermione sighed, “it’s a way to bring the houses together. If we can figure out a way to work on class assignments with people we don’t like then we can figure out ways to work on more important things together.”

“That doesn’t explain why we got to hex each other though,” Harry pointed out.

“It’s sort of like a safety valve. And it’s a gimmick. Who wouldn’t love to hex their enemy?”

“Ah,” Harry said, dipping his quill into the inkwell.

“Brilliant,” Ron said.

“It is a good idea, isn’t it,” Hermione smiled at her paper before turning to a book next to her and flipping a few pages.

“Mr. Malfoy, a word with you, if you please.”

These words caught the youth and held him after potions while the rest of the class filed out. “I do have another class sir,” the blonde said as he adjusted the strap of his bag.

“I am aware of that; I wish to speak with you, however.”

“Now is really not a good time, sir,” Draco said, forcing the proper amount of respect into his tone.

Snape studied him a moment before saying, “Very well, perhaps you would prefer to come back later this afternoon.”

The teen groaned inwardly but said, “Yes, sir.”

“See that you do come back, Mr. Malfoy, or I will be forced to come find you.”

“Yes, sir.” Snape nodded in dismissal and Draco hurried out of the classroom and into the hallway.

Later that same day, after dinner, Severus sat in his office marking papers. He was also watching the clock. If Draco didn’t come in the next half hour, Severus decided, he would make good on his threat and go find the boy.

Fifteen minutes later, as he checked the clock for the second time in as many minutes a knock came at the door. “Enter,” he called. The door creaked open and Malfoy the younger stepped in. “Draco,” he said in greeting, “Sit down.” He nodded at the chair as he laid his quill aside.

“Sir,” the prefect replied as he sat. His features were very nearly neutral, but Severus’s practiced eye could detect traces of agitation.

“I will be blunt; you’ve not been yourself these past few days. What has happened?”

“Nothing, sir,” the youth said sullenly.

“Do not lie to me, Mr. Malfoy. I ask you again, what has happened?”

The blonde stared coolly at him another moment before dropping his gaze. When he raised his eyes again they contained a faintly pleading expression, though it would go unnoticed to any but those trained to pick up the most subtle nuances of behavior. His words, however, left his mood in little doubt. “I’ve done what I was supposed to, haven’t I? I’ve done well; too, even father acknowledges that.”

“You have carried out your task admirably,” Severus replied reassuringly.

“Then why won’t he tell me?”

“Of whom are speaking?”

“Father,” the boy spat. “I wrote to him, informing him of my progress, and he merely sent more instructions. Why won’t he tell me what’s going on?” he demanded.

“I believe, Draco,” Severus said slowly, “your father seeks to protect you. If you do not know of the plan, if you do not know the particulars, then you are not as blamable. Certainly Dumbledore would not be inclined to blame you for following a parent’s instructions.”

“He does not trust me to carry it out properly; he thinks I’m going to get caught!”

“Your father wants only the best for you, Draco, I am certain,” Snape soothed the boy despite being certain of no such thing.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?”

“If Lucius has not told you…”

“You won’t then! You’d tell Potter!” he accused.

“I most definitely would not,” Severus said coldly, “as your own success must indicate.”

Draco flushed slightly and leaned back in his chair, hardly having been aware of leaning forward.

“Draco, your father does care for you. He is only looking out for your best interests. I will mention your frustration to him when next we meet. Try to hold out a little longer.”

“I’ll try,” Draco sighed. “It’s not easy being so friendly with someone I dislike. And I’m supposed to get even closer now. He wants me to break up the trio,” Malfoy had a faintly derisive look as he said it, though it was not clear who or what he was mocking.

“I have every faith in you,” Severus said in an almost-warm tone.

“Thanks,” Draco said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll try and get back to normal. I’m sure this hasn’t been helping my standing with Potter.”

“Hmmm, perhaps not. On the other hand, there may be a way to turn this to your advantage.”

“How so?”

“If you explained that your father had contacted you, I am certain Potter would sympathize.”

The youth nodded pensively, head filling with plots and possible scenarios. “Yes,” he whispered absently. Abruptly, he came back to himself. “If that’s all, sir?” he canted his head to one side.

“Dismissed,” Severus replied as he picked up his quill. Draco nodded and departed.

As the teen closed the door Severus sighed. He hated to betray Harry, but he couldn’t not offer Draco help, it was expected of him. Furthermore, Lucius’s fury was a terrible thing, and Draco was sure to incur that wrath if he failed. With the boy in such a delicate position that sort of disapproval could push him toward the light, or straight into the arms of the Dark Lord. Severus heaved another sigh. Why did this have to be so difficult?