Harry awoke the next morning to the unpleasant sight of Snape's grim face hovering above his. He jolted upright, whipping his hand out to retrieve his glasses. The world snapped into focus, revealing Snape's wand pointed straight at Harry's nose, and a predatory expression glittering in the man's black eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry sputtered. He couldn't believe his professor would actually hex him--

"Manners, Potter!" Snape raised a cool eyebrow, and tucked his wand away. "I was checking you for a Confundus Curse."

Wonderful. It was just like Snape to accuse him of being confunded simply because he made decisions for himself.

"And?" Harry challenged.

Snape's black eyes narrowed. "I am sorry to say your idiotic behavior stems solely from a lack of intelligence. It seems I was too optimistic in hoping otherwise."

Harry was reminded again why he so fervently hated Snape.

"Well, if you don't mind," he snarled, "those of us who lack intelligence need sleep, too. So leave me alone!"

With that, he buried himself back in the covers and determinedly waited for Snape's footsteps to retreat. Unsurprisingly, the man crossed his arms and stubbornly remained in place.

"Since a simple finite incantatem won't cure you of this madness as I'd hoped," said Snape sternly, "I believe it is high time we had a more extensive discussion of your… conduct."

"Go ahead and talk, then," Harry said, smirking. "I'll just close my eyes here… But I'm listening. Honest."

With an angry noise, Snape yanked the covers from Harry's body, stealing the warmth from the bed.

"Very well, no discussion," Snape snarled. "It occurs to me, Potter, that we've grossly neglected your Occlumency lessons."

Harry's eyes snapped open. "You've got to be kidding--"

"Legilimens."

Harry was standing before Lucius in the corridor. "You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter. They were meddlesome fools, too…”

Voldemort was casting the Cruciatus Curse on him. Lucius Malfoy's jeering voice rose from the crowd of Death Eaters..

Lucius Malfoy's wand pressed hard into his ribs. "'The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter…"

He felt Snape pressing on his mind, pushing further, calling various images of Lucius to mind, wrenching them from his thoughts.

Lucius was lunging at Harry in the corridor…

Lucius was standing next to Fudge in the Ministry of Magic. "Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes.." he commented coldly. "Snakelike, in fact…"

Harry was alarmed to see Lucius Malfoy appear in the doorway to his bedchamber…

Dobby was gesturing towards Riddle's diary and towards Lucius, then hitting himself on the head…

Gritting his teeth under the fury of the attack, Harry lashed out with the only weapon available. He kicked Snape in the ribs. Though delivered from a poor angle and not particularly hard, the blow was enough to break the man's concentration and dissolve the spell.

Harry glared at him, gasping for breath, watching Snape do the same. It was rather odd to find himself completely dispassionate, and merely disgusted at his professor's conduct. So Snape had raped his mind. This was hardly the first time.

He clenched and unclenched his hands on the bedsheet, remembering how Snape had wrenched Harry's memory of Tonks right from his brain.

It felt just the same as this one, he realized, thinking of the tendrils of Snape's spell crawling through his thoughts, looking for Lucius, Lucius, Lucius…

"You were searching for something," Harry accused him, shoving aside the last of the covers to scramble over to the opposite side of the bed. "What was it?"

"I intended," whispered Snape harshly, "to remind you that Lucius Malfoy is your foe. He will cheerfully eviscerate you and bring your broken body to his master. You have clearly forgotten this!"

"No, no," Harry said breathlessly, narrowing his eyes. "You were searching through my memories. You were looking for something. What?"

He wanted to throw something at Snape, to break the stony, dispassionate expression that told him nothing. The only object in reach, however, was a pillow-- and that would both fail to hurt the man, as well as make Harry seem even more childish and immature in Snape's eyes than he already did.

Snape's black eyes bore searchingly into his for a drawn out moment, then the man made as if to speak--

The bedroom door burst open, dissolving wards and silencing charms.

Snape rolled his eyes skyward as Lucius called, "Oi, Severus!"

"Lucius," he said, seething with irritation as he whirled to confront the figure in the doorway. "I thought we'd agreed you were not to enter this room!"

"And I have abided by that agreement," Lucius replied mildly, with an infuriating smile. His bathrobe was half-open over his gaunt chest, and his hair was tousled with leisurely unconcern over his shoulders. "As you see, I am merely in the doorway."

As if to punctuate his statement, Lucius lounged against the doorframe theatrically. Snape shot Harry an accusing glare that plunged the boy in fresh confusion before he whirled back to face Lucius.

"Just what are you doing here?"

Harry noticed a barely perceptible flutter of Lucius's lashes. "I'm simply rousing our sleepy young friend over there." Lucius's smile was positively wicked, and Snape's face seemed to take on the color of sour milk. "Awake there, Septimus?"

Harry admired Lucius's ability to instantly strip away Snape's composure. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy," he said. Snape was now glaring at him again, so Harry shot Lucius a smile he knew would infuriate the Potions Master. "Wide awake."

"I disagree. You're clearly still tired," Snape cut in, drawing closer, obscuring Lucius from view. "Go back to sleep."

It was more an order than a request, and Harry bristled at hearing it.

"I'm fine," he said mutinously, refraining from pointing out that Snape himself had awoken him.

"You look tired," insisted Snape firmly, the look in his eyes again ordering Harry to obey. "Go. To. Sleep."

"The boy looks fine to me," Lucius drawled from the doorway. "Come take tea with me in the parlor, Septimus."

Harry glanced back and forth between these two men who demanded entirely different actions of him. The polished blonde would kill him if he had half the chance, and the dark, greasy professor would grudgingly preserve his life, however much he resented doing so.

And he certainly resented it.

If there was anything Harry was familiar with, it was resentment. A lifetime of people who hated him for his very existence, who made it clear how much they suffered in putting up with him, had well acquainted him with that terrible emotion. An image of the Dursleys flashed through his head.

Harry smiled poisonously at Snape, then nodded to Lucius, "That sounds terrific, Mr. Malfoy. I'll be down in five minutes."

Lucius smirked at his victory, and sauntered out into the hallway. Snape lingered, glaring speechlessly at Harry. It was only when he continued to glare rather than to speak that Harry realized Lucius was still loitering only several feet from the door, in easy hearing range. Snape was obviously aware of it.

Well, he'd be damned if he wouldn’t take advantage of Snape's inability to rage at him in front of their eavesdropper.

"Do you mind?" Harry asked testily. "I want to get dressed." He grabbed his trousers from where they lay slung over a chair, and directed a challenging look at Snape.

Black eyes narrowed into lethal slits.

"Remember what I said yesterday," whispered Snape in a barely audible voice. "Do not play the fool simply because you resent me."

Harry shot him a disdainful look.

"Not everything's about you, Snape."

* * *

Snape seemed positively manic once they were downstairs. His sharp black eyes shot from Lucius to Harry, following every action, observing the movements of their hands and lips with a relentless scrutiny that made Harry feel distinctly uncomfortable… It was almost as though his skin was being stripped from his bones by the intensity of the man's gaze.

Lucius, however, took it all in stride, and even seemed to enjoy the attention. Harry began to notice, on the second cup of tea, that although Lucius's gaze was fixed on the boy, he was actually watching Snape. There was a negligent tilt to his head, a slight quirk to his lips, that showed he was as aware of Snape as Snape currently was of him. Though Harry seemed to be the object of his interest, it was Snape he was truly observing.

Very odd. The boy was well-aware of some sort of power struggle going on between the two men, but he had even less insight into the workings of Malfoy's mind than he did into Snape's… And that was saying a lot. He really couldn’t say just what game Malfoy was playing with Snape; clearly Harry played some role in it… But if he hoped to rattle Snape by winning the confidence of Snape's "distant nephew", Harry doubted the man would encounter any success. Snape didn't care enough about him to worry about who Harry liked.

But then, what was it? Why was Snape acting like this? Had Lucius said something, done something? Did Snape know Lucius had cast an Unforgivable under his roof?

Lucius seemed as startled as Harry when Snape, after slipping from the room for some unnamed reason, suddenly swept back into the parlor and gestured with a violent sweep of his hand for Harry to rise.

"Septimus, fetch your coat!"

Harry cringed, and glanced at him questioningly. "Sir?"

"We have to retrieve a batch of Nightshade Herbs," Snape announced coldly. "They sprout one day a year, and today is that day. I require your assistance."

"Can't you send someone else?" Lucius complained.

Snape gave him a disdainful look. "I would never trust another to handle such a rare and delicate potions component."

Lucius's brow furrowed; he looked affronted. "You must go? You cannot simply purchase this herb?" His tone became disdainful. "Surely your family fortune gives you some latitude. Or are the rumors true about old Severus Septimus and his… proclivities squandering the family wealth?"

Lucius's eye were glinting smugly, as though he were certain of a victory with those words.

"No, it cannot be purchased," Snape replied condescendingly, entirely unmoved by Lucius's attempts to ruffle him. "I would not expect one of your potions aptitude to know this, but it is a very rare and potent substance, the basis for several of the most powerful emotive concoctions. Septimus? Coat—now. And Lucius…" Snape smiled viciously. "I would take you, but I fear for what might happen, should you leave the protective boundaries of the manor. You'll have to remain behind."

Harry knew Snape disliked Lucius, especially after the incident a few nights earlier, but it surprised him that Snape was willing to endure his presence merely to deprive Lucius of it.

"Oh," Snape added with mock compassion, "And I'm afraid this task will probably take… an entire day. I trust you can entertain yourself in our absence?"

Lucius glowered at him; his voice was calm. "But of course, Severus."

When Snape shot him another dark glare, Harry reluctantly dragged himself upstairs to fetch his coat. After Lucius's baffling use of the Imperius Curse the night before, he supposed he should be grateful for a legitimate excuse to escape Lucius's confusing influence… But he didn't particularly look forward to going anywhere with Snape.

Suddenly, an odd sensation roiled through his stomach. At first, it struck the boy as dread, but it shifted into something physical and rather unpleasant. Harry shrugged it off and swiftly buttoned up the coat before proceeding down the stairs.

Snape was waiting, the dark arms of his robes crossed, a look of thinly suppressed triumph lingering about him upon seeing the unwilling Harry alight the stairs. He shot Lucius a look of cold challenge, then Harry a dark look that promised a thoroughly unpleasant afternoon.

Still reclining comfortably in the parlor, Lucius seemed to be enduring Snape's triumph impassively. He only glanced at Harry as the boy reluctantly dragged his feet over to Snape's side.

Then Lucius looked at the boy again, catching Harry's eye. He felt the faintest note of alarm at detecting an oddly expectant look in Lucius's gray eyes.

And then it hit him.

His stomach leapt up into his throat, his entire body overcome with the horrendous sensation of overpowering nausea just as an invisible hammer seemed to pound him directly on the head. Harry let out a faint moan, and the world dissolved around him…

His first flash of awareness came when he was crouched on Snape's floor, heaving up the contents of his stomach, frenzied voices echoing somewhere in the background...

Cold, skillful fingers manipulated his jaw open. A glass vial tipped against his lips, something tangy creeping down his throat. A voice urged him to swallow it, and he complied, straining against what seemed like a thick lump lodged in his throat.

Moments later, he tasted the potion again as it came back up…

Another potion. Then another. The voice sounded frustrated.

"Just one more attempt; this should do it. You throw this one up, boy, and you will personally refurbish my carpets. Understand?"

It was no use. He found himself coughing out the last droplets of the potion over the carpets, as someone sighed above him…

Only a few minutes had passed; he knew that somehow. His entire body was shaking violently, beyond his control. Strong arms clamped around him to steady his trembling, pinning him in place where he threatened to collapse back onto the rug and into his own vomit. Harry noticed vaguely that he'd been sick over one of Snape's finer Persian rugs…

He's going to kill me, he thought. He then felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly again. A whirl of nausea overcame him again, and he collapsed under the strength of it.

* * *

Harry came to awareness, shivering violently, sprawled across a couch. He leaned instinctively towards the hastily transfigured bucket and retched. Arms supported him from tumbling off the couch. In the periphery of his vision, a robe swished by, on the far side of the room. Harry leaned his head helplessly against the arms holding him in place, the world swirling and teetering about him.

"Is it your scar?" asked an almost-imperceptible voice next to his ear. Harry shook his head weakly. The movement sent the world jolting violently, a terrible pain bursting through his head. He moaned miserably.

The voice again, much louder.

"Did you remember ingesting anything unusual?… You're licking your lips. Are you thirsty? Do you need water?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Severus," said a smooth, exasperated voice from the figure across the room. "Have you never taken care of a sick person? He'll just throw it back up. It's best to let the nausea pass. You've already seen that your potions won't help."

Harry felt nausea creep back, and he made a feeble movement towards the bucket. The arms lifted him just enough, tilting him over the waiting container. He wanted to mumble his thanks, but instead he dry retched until all ideas but passing out and escaping this agony were banished from his mind.

"Why don't you call a healer?" Lucius asked lightly.

"Because," Snape snarled, his grip tightening upon the boy in his anger. "You are here. Your delightful presence in my house prevents my attracting any attention to it, even if I have an adolescent who has taken violently ill!"

"Well, you'd best do something," suggested Lucius's supercilious tones. "You need to foist him off upon someone. Your herbs surely are withering out there."

Harry heard Snape's sharp intake of breath, as though he'd suddenly caught on to some game. His grip on Harry tightened enough for the boy to moan in protest, but Snape didn't seem to hear it.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Snape breathed. "In fact," his wand was suddenly waving in Harry's face. "Finite incantatem!"

Harry still felt ill. He let his eyes slip closed; he wished Snape would release him. The arms that had previously supported were becoming stifling and overheated, like warm blankets smothering his sides.

"You did something, didn't you?" Snape demanded loudly...too loudly. It made Harry's head throb.

"Whatever are you going on about?" came Lucius's amused voice.

Harry heard Snape incant another spell.

"Revealo potion!"

Some names floated in the air, that even in Harry's half-delirious state he recognized from his visits to the hospital wing. Nothing that would cause this illness, he assumed.

Oh, he felt awful.

With a moan, he slumped back against the supporting arms, too far gone to care that it was Snape holding him.

"You will find nothing because I did nothing," Lucius replied. He sounded amused. "And I am certain your herbs are going to waste. Leave me to care for the boy; Merlin knows I have plenty of experience. Draco always was a sickly child."

Snape's fists balled in frustration. Harry could practically feel the man glaring at Lucius.

"Do you take me for a fool?"

"No," Lucius replied, with a calculating smile. "I take you for a man with something urgent to attend to."

"That was before this sudden, devastating illness," Snape hissed. "Of which I will ascertain the cause!"

"You'll neglect your herbs due to a simple winter fever? And lose all the emotive potions you could produce?" Harry looked up slightly to see Lucius's eyebrows raised in comical surprise. "Why, Severus, it's not like you to value something over your... urgent potions ingredients. Does this boy mean so much to you? I find that highly unlike you."

Snape was frozen against Harry's side. The boy knew he was trying furiously to think of a new excuse. Although he had to have fabricated his story about the one-day-a-year herbs, he was now trapped by it. Would Snape ever forsake a valuable ingredient for the sake of a sick boy, any sick boy?

No, he wouldn't. And Lucius knew it

It was either expose himself openly as a liar, and give Lucius, and consequently, Voldemort, reason to question his motives for lying, or buckle to Lucius's will and leave Harry alone with him.

"He is a relative," Snape attempted at last. "And his parents will be severely displeased if he dies."

Lucius laughed. "Of course he won't die."

"Yes, you will make certain of that, won't you?" said Snape in a tart, bitter tone. "If I discover his condition has worsened--"

"I don't know just why you're implying I can control the tide of this unfortunate boy's affliction, but I assure you, I believe he will be just fine. Go and collect your herbs, Severus. I suppose, since the task will take all day, in your own words, I'll expect your return late this evening."

Snape's fingers were digging into Harry's flesh where he gripped him.

"Don't worry," Lucius said, voice thick with mocking sympathy. "I'm sure our young Septimus will be feeling much better soon enough."

"I daresay he will," whispered Snape in an icy tone. "Or perhaps I will forget how I should treat my guests."

"Shoo, Severus," Lucius said amusedly. "You have important matters to attend."

* * *

Harry remained disoriented and ill, the minutes alternately crawling and then racing by as he remained on the couch, thoroughly miserable. Snape had attempted to levitate the boy back to his room before leaving, but something about the spell merely aggravated the awful feelings inside the boy, until he found himself begging Snape to leave him be.

As soon as Snape was gone, Lucius settled near the couch, watching with faint sympathy every time Harry degenerated back into a fit of dry-heaves. After several minutes, the familiar violet sparks from the night before streamed from Lucius's wand, and the man smiled in cool satisfaction.

"What… is that?" Harry croaked, his throat like a raw wound.

Lucius cast a careless glance at his wand. "Oh, this? It's a tracking spell. It alerts me when Severus has reached a particular location. In this case, he's obviously outside of the manor's wards." He smiled over at Harry. "Well, I suppose it's time for you to feel better now."

Harry stared at him. "You mean you-- you admit you did this?" He felt the nausea flare back with his words, and groaned.

"Of course I did," Lucius replied unapologetically. "I would have been so very lonely in this house by myself."

If Harry weren't currently consumed by nausea, he might have been somewhat touched that Lucius wanted his company, however much of a lie it had to be. As things were, he just wanted to hex the man.

"Go ahead and end it, then!" Harry said in an unnecessarily harsh tone.

"Patience, boy," Lucius drawled. "We're a might bit testy today, aren't we?"

Harry forced himself to remain silent, because anything he said might prolong his agony.

"Oh, our foolish Severus," Lucius whispered, drawing a wand as he stepped closer to Harry. "All that potions knowledge, and he still doesn't realize an Adgravesco hex can only be ended by its subject. Well, boy? Go on."

He shoved Harry's wand into his hand. The boy clutched at it weakly, dimly realizing, through the swimming of his thoughts, that he was supposed to end the spell himself.

"Finite incantatem 'adgravesco. ' Say it," Lucius prompted impatiently.

"Finite incantatem adgravesco," Harry whispered, barely mustering the strength to direct his wand towards his own chest.

Sweet relief flooded through his body as the debilitating nausea slowly retreated. The headache, the dizziness faded, and strength began to seep back into Harry's limbs.

"Good boy," Lucius said, smiling genially.

Harry gazed blearily up at the man, still marveling at his audacity, and at just how quickly the man had devised a scheme to outmaneuver Snape.

It struck Harry how utterly absurd it was that some prophecy had declared only Harry, plain old Harry, as the savior who would end the reign of the Death Eaters and their master. Lucius was as acquainted with the Dark Arts as Harry was with the alphabet; even in times like these, he could whip out a spell that would absolutely paralyze Harry on a battlefield, and seemingly regard it as an easy and simple action to perform.

How could he ever match these people? The grinning, devious Lucius Malfoy was not even the most powerful of his foes, yet suddenly he seemed too great an opponent for Harry to ever handle.

"Come on now, off the couch," Lucius said. "We have a busy day ahead of us."

Harry started to sit up, but his body cried out in protest, and he slumped back down. "I just… I need a minute. I still feel a bit funny."

"We've already wasted enough time with this," Lucius said, irritated. "Up! I wish to go outside."

"Then go," Harry snapped. "I just need a minute."

"Oh, please." Lucius sounded genuinely annoyed. "Get up and come with me, or I'll have to make that couch severely less comfortable."

Harry peered up at him. He did not appreciate Lucius ordering him around any more than he did Snape; at least the latter did not expect Harry to remain fond of him after he played the role of authoritarian.

Lucius drew his wand.

"What will you do?" Harry asked sarcastically. "Transfigure the cushions?"

"Nothing so crude," Lucius said smoothly, brandishing the wand at Harry. "Crucio."

Pure, unadulterated agony crashed over Harry for only the briefest moment before the man ended the spell, but it was enough to send the boy jolting from the couch and tumbling to the floor with a startled yelp of pain.

"Well, that certainly got you up," Lucius said from above him, amused.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest. He knelt on the floor, panting, absolutely stunned that Lucius had just used the Cruciatus Curse on him. It had been only the briefest touch of the curse, but it was enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through Harry's system that found him scrambling to his feet, staring wide-eyed at the Death Eater before him.

"Come here, Septimus," Lucius ordered softly.

Every one of Harry's instincts screamed at him to fight, to flee, to do something. His pride demanded he throw Lucius's order back in his face with a painful hex. His common sense, however, slowly asserted itself. Malfoy could simply employ the curse against him again if he disobeyed. Running and fighting… they would ruin everything.

The ominous flash in Lucius's eyes sent a shiver down Harry's spine, and he quickly hastened to obey, standing before Lucius.

"Good," Lucius crooned.

Harry found himself gazing at the wall behind the man's head, trying to hide his turmoil and confusion from the perceptive Death Eater's sight. Warm fingers crept onto his chin, and tilted it up to bring them in eye contact.

"I do not tolerate insolence, boy. Even in my allies." He gazed more intently into Harry's expression. "Now, do you wish to disobey me further?"

Harry shook his head, and Lucius released his chin, suddenly smiling fondly again. "Very good."

The man retreated a step, his eyes never straying from Harry's. The boy felt vaguely as though breaking the eye-contact would prove lethal to him.

"Well, Septimus, I've subjected you to two Unforgivables," Lucius murmured. The unsettling smile that crept across his face made him suddenly appear thinner, more gaunt from his imprisonment. "I've always been quite free with my use of them. And I suppose now that I'm a condemned fugitive, the ministry can hardly give me the Dementor's Kiss twice. So…" he drew closer to Harry, eyes glittering strangely against his thin, sallow face. "What did you think of them?"

How the hell was he supposed to reply to that?

"I, er…" Harry floundered a moment for a reply. What did Malfoy want to hear? What the hell should he say? "I-- I guess I liked the Imperius better."

Lucius stared at him a moment longer, then began to chuckle. The chuckle grew into a full-blown laugh, as if Harry had just delivered a particularly amusing punch line.

Harry watched him warily. He suddenly wished that Snape would hurry up and return.