"You needn't look so distraught," Lucius informed him as he levitated the drugged boy back up the staircase. "Are you truly so afraid of Severus's reaction?"

Harry hadn't been thinking of Snape. He watched the banister float past, his mind fixed upon that one, devastating thing. He had needlessly taken a life, utterly destroyed a living being. There was no provocation, no reason. How could he-- why didn't he-- what had he--

Horrific thoughts raged through his head. He remembered Minky's wide, terrified eyes before he killed her, still unable to reconcile that image with that dead body… Dead body… He'd taken a life… If his parents could see… Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus… A killer. He'd become a killer.

It was not like the ducks. He'd felt awful about that, but this… This was nothing like that. It could be Dobby he'd just slaughtered, it could be anyone. He'd murdered someone.

Murderer.

Oh, God…

His thoughts leaped between the prophecy… Sirius… his parents… the ducks… Sirius… Minky… His brain felt like it would burst if he thought about it any longer, but when he tried to tear his thoughts away, he was seeped in cold horror at what he'd just done.

"There we go," said Lucius's smooth voice as his spell deposited Harry gently upon the bed.

Harry stared at the aristocrat's hateful face for an endless moment. It entered his thoughts that he should launch himself at the man, tear into him, punish him… But he felt ill and wretched

--what have I done?--

and even clawing at Lucius's pale skin until blood sprouted beneath his fingertips seemed too horrifically brutal to contemplate after he'd just murdered an innocent being.

Malfoy made as if to leave, but stopped. In a carefully calculated movement, he turned slowly to linger at the foot of Harry's bed. His features shifted into a soft look of concern,

--oh god WHAT have I done?--

and it was amazing how Harry could see the measure behind his every movement now that it was too late.

"Septimus," Lucius said, with a simpering degree of faux kindness, "I know you're worried about what Severus will say. How he'll… respond to what you did."

Harry shifted his eyes to Lucius; it was too much effort to focus on him, and somehow, far too painful.

Lucius stepped closer, his elegant hand reaching out to caress the coverlet near Harry's feet. "And I'd like to say your fears are baseless, but I don't want to lie to you. Severus can be a cruel and vindictive man."

--murderer, murderer, murderer--

The blonde drew closer, his eyes riveted to Harry's face. Harry sensed the pleasure thrumming beneath Lucius's mask of compassion; he could see the gleeful spark in the man's eyes as he played his favorite game.

"But I don't want you to worry," Lucius continued softly. "I understand that you're young, and very much at Severus's mercy. Do not forget that I am not." He was close enough now to rest his hand on Harry's arm, "I can protect you from him. You must never believe you are alone in this!"

Lucius knelt down now, bringing himself to eye-level with Harry. There was a ravenous, predatory look in his gray eyes, even as his smile projected understanding and kindness.

"I think you know that I've come to be quite fond of you," Lucius said thickly, and it took everything in Harry not to shrink away when he wove his fingers affectionately through the boy's hair. "You remind me so very much of my own Draco. And just as I'd protect my son, I'll now protect you." His features instantly turned grave, although his eyes never lost their delighted glint. "I will inform Severus that I am to blame for that creature's death--"

-- he'll think you did it, anyway and you KNOW it--

"--and he need never know your hand in it... Do not object!" Lucius forestalled with a raised hand the objection Harry had no plans to make. "I don't want you to worry about me, Septimus. I just couldn't bear it if Severus hurt you. After all," he smiled tragically, "I urged you to kill it, I persuaded you. It may have been your wand and your voice that issued the lethal curse-- and Severus may very well attribute responsibility solely to you-- but I know that I share at least as much culpability as you."

Lucius straightened again, and his hand trailed down from Harry's hair to stroke Harry's forehead.

Harry found himself absurdly hoping the Death Eater would feel the scar tissue there… He wanted to see Lucius's face change into shock, dismay, hatred… No more pretenses, only animosity...

But Snape's glamour did a thorough job of hiding his scar even from another person's touch, because Lucius was still smiling.

"You've made me very proud today."

Then he leaned down and kissed Harry on the forehead, like a father would. As he retreated from the room and spelled out the lights, Harry's eyes remained open and fixed on the ceiling.

The drug that still swirled in his system buzzed gently in his ears, serving as a thin film between Harry and the painful ache of his muscles. The lingering effects of the earlier curses were muted, but he suddenly, desperately, wanted to feel them. He wanted it to hurt. Anything to erase those giant, frightened eyes from his mind.

He reached up and scrubbed at his forehead with his palm, trying to scour what felt like Lucius's brand of approval from his skin. He raked with his nails, painfully mauling the surface, until the stinging grew fierce, but it lingered there relentlessly. And it was burning, burning. He could feel it. He swore he could feel it there, like a hot iron pressed into his flesh. The taint that Malfoy had left behind, that wretched, ugly thing that had reared to life within him…

He wanted to shred his own skin, if only to get it out of him. But nothing could change it; it was burned there forever. It would never go away. It was him. This sickness was him.

It was only later, as unconsciousness drew forth to claim him, that his sleepy mind separated Lucius's touch from the terrible pain.

The burning was his scar.

* * *

"Did you truly believe I would permit your house-elf to spy on me?" Lucius inquired smoothly as Snape stepped into the man's opulent bedchamber.

The blonde directed a playful look towards Severus, then coyly gestured to the Scotch resting on the bedside table.

"Drink, Severus?"

Snape's slow smile was one of genuine delight, and he knew just how horrifying it appeared to others. "Please."

He enjoyed the surprise that danced through Malfoy's eyes. Snape would never usually accept a glass from Lucius's hand, for fear of just what the man might have slipped into it. The acceptance was a show of confidence that immediately set the other wizard on alert.

Lucius's eyes only left Snape's briefly to pour him a glass, and he looked wary as he handed Severus his drink.

Snape made a show of savoring his drink, even going so far as closing his eyes to better relish the pungent liquid. He opened them to see a distinct thread of anxiety in Lucius's manner.

"Have I missed something?" Lucius asked sharply, before hearing his own voice and quickly smoothing it into the usual polished tones. "Or was it simply so gratifying to retrieve your herbs?"

Snape smiled coldly. "Yes. My excursion was… quite gratifying."

Lucius's gaze wavered, and the man retreated several steps, putting on a show of nonchalance. "You know, Severus," he drawled, "if you derive such pleasure from simply playing the gardener, I believe it is high time you found yourself a woman. A good pure-blooded bitch might show you some of the true pleasures in life."

"I'll keep it under advisement." He settled himself into a chair calmly. "Now, I believe you were leveling accusations at me?"

"Your elf," Lucius said, teeth gritted. "You ordered her to monitor my activities."

"Of course," Snape said unapologetically. "You've made quite a show of untoward interest in my charge. I fully intend to return him to his parents with his virtue in-- in the same state it was upon his arrival. Minky was to help me to that end."

Lucius smiled a little wolfishly at Snape's slip.

"Yes, he doesn't take after you in that area much, does he, Severus?"

Snape blinked. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"What I mean is," Lucius settled into the chair across from Snape's, suddenly looking smug at pressing some perceived advantage, "I've never known you to so much as look at another creature in a lascivious way; I doubt that's the case with him, is it?"

He didn't know if Lucius hoped to rouse his ire with this line of discussion, or if he were genuinely speculating. He found the prospect of discussing his son's-- Potter's sexual life rather disgusting. And he certainly wasn't prepared to discuss his own sexual experience with this man.

"There's quite a bit you don't know about me, Lucius." He swept to his feet. "And I wouldn't be surprised if he bears little resemblance to me. I've had no hand in his upbringing. He's a distant relation."

"Yes, distant," Lucius said, his sharp eyes fixed keenly on Snape's face. "So distant that you've never before discussed his branch of the family with me."

"A small matter," Snape said dismissively. "You know how little I care for my kin."

A strange light appeared in Malfoy's eyes.

"But you're quite attentive to him. Almost… dare I say, protective? And in certain light, the resemblance is almost uncanny, far more than I'd expect for a distant nephew--"

"Don’t be absurd." Harry didn't even remotely resemble him.

"The most interesting thing to me, though," Lucius said, still watching him intently, "is that such a broad swath of the Snape family possesses such… mental prowess."

"Mental prowess?"

Was he still talking about the boy? Where the hell had this come from?

"It's well known you're quite the gifted Occlumens. The Dark Lord himself is always praising your innate talents. It's very similar to some other gifts of the mind, isn't it?"

Snape watched him warily. What could the man be referring to? Had he tried to legilimize Harry? No-- impossible. Even if Lucius possessed skill in the art, he doubted Harry would be able to fight off even a cursory attack.

Then what--

The boy was resistant to the Imperius Curse.

He stared at Lucius for an extended moment, wondering if that could possibly be it. Had the man tried to cast it on Harry? Had the boy been foolish enough to throw it off in front of Lucius? It was an exceedingly rare talent, resisting the Unforgivable. Occlumens that he was, Severus himself could not do it. This would be difficult to explain.

But… when the hell had Malfoy tried to cast the Imperius on Harry?

"Yes," Snape said tonelessly. "There are several common traits in my family. It amplifies certain gifts, inbreeding-- doesn't it?" He sent Malfoy a derisive look. "Of course, you'd know far better than I would."

Lucius scowled.

Snape would have chosen this moment to make his graceful exit, but Lucius halted him with a delicate, "Wouldn't you like to ask after your precious house-elf?"

Snape stilled for the briefest moment, but his mind drew the most likely conclusion. "You killed her."

"You knew it was likely to happen," Lucius chided him gently. "And you still sent her after me? For shame, you callous fiend." He sounded genuinely amused. "For shame."

* * *

When Snape had first returned home, he found Harry sound asleep. He'd considered waking him, but eventually decided against it. The boy looked terrible; whatever that sickness-inducing hex had been, it clearly hadn't evaporated harmlessly from his system.

Thus Snape was surprised to find the boy awake when his steps brought him back up to Potter's room. Harry was gazing listlessly out the window, but he whirled around with frantic energy upon Snape's entrance.

Snape had heard the phrase 'death warmed over' before, but he hadn't quite understood just what that looked like until now. Sleep, perhaps, had been kind to Harry, because wide-awake, he appeared hollow-eyed and ill, his skin suddenly paler than Snape's own.

"Sit down, for Merlin's sake, Potter," Snape said sharply, levitating a chair across the room to plop next to the boy. "You're in no condition to be traipsing about."

Harry sent the chair a cursory glance. His green eyes were glassy, and even when he looked back to Snape, he had a feeling the boy wasn’t seeing him.

"Professor," Harry said in a strangely hoarse voice, before closing his eyes tightly, as if to gain his bearings. "Minky… your house-elf… Mi… M--"

"I know my own house-elf's name, thank you, Potter," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "And I told you to sit down."

Harry's eyes flew frantically to Snape's, and he still hovered indecisively over the chair. "You-- you don't understand. Your house-elf--"

"She's dead. I know," Snape said. "Malfoy informed me. Sit!"

When Harry still gazed at him with that odd, haunted expression, his skinny body shaking, Snape stepped forward to shove the boy into the chair.

"I killed her."

He barely heard the boy's words, but they stopped him short.

Harry looked up again, a frantic new energy seeming to jolt through his form. "I did it, I killed her! It wasn't him, it was me. I'm sorry!" His hands flew to his face, his fingers rubbing at his forehead as though battling a horrendous headache. "So sorry… so sorry… It means nothing, I know. I can't take it back, but I'm-- it's awful. I-- what I did-- what I--"

"You killed her?"

Snape was stunned by the admission, and then instantly disbelieving. Potter killed the house-elf? He would have to have--

"It started with the ducks, and I thought-- they're just ducks…" Harry's muffled voice came through his hands; he was scratching at his forehead. "But it was-- I swear I never wanted-- but it doesn't matter. It's too late. But-- I did that. So, when the ducks were finished-- but I never would have. No, not her. Dobby, I knew Dobby, so it wasn't the same… Not the same at all, and I didn't like what happened to the ducks…"

"Enough about the ducks!"

Harry's hands dropped from his face. He blinked at Snape dully before something cleared in his expression, as though he had only just noticed that Snape there in the room with him.

"What happened with the house-elf, Potter?" Snape demanded. "Explain. Coherently."

Harry took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "I-- Malfoy, he said she was, er, she was watching us. When I-- during the ducks, I mean. He was teaching spells… For killing the du-- for earlier, I mean. But um, he said he lied about… But then he told me to kill her… But I wouldn't have-- I swear I didn't mean to-- And then he cast the Imperius Curse…"

Snape glanced up sharply. So it was true. An Unforgivable. Malfoy had used an Unforgivable under his roof.

"He cast the Imperius Curse on you?" Snape interrupted. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Harry's reluctant nod. In a dangerous tone, "And I take it that wasn't the first time..?"

Potter shook his head mutely.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter," Snape exploded, watching the boy flinch. "Had you informed me earlier, I might have prevented--"

He caught a hold of himself, fully grasping the implications of Malfoy's actions. Immediately he was overcome with a surge of vindictive glee.

He had Lucius now. This would be enough.

Malfoy had used an Unforgivable under the roof of the Dark Lord's most valuable spy

It was difficult to fight the vicious smile that threatened to split his lips. Harry would certainly misread its cause.

"Continue, then, Potter," Snape said off-handedly. "He cast the Imperius Curse, and..?"

"--And I did it. I killed her." The boy's hand returned to his forehead, where Snape knew his scar to be, and he rubbed it absently. He spoke in a quiet, broken voice, as though understanding it for the first time. "I really killed her..."

Snape tore his thoughts from his impending victory over Lucius.

"I thought you could resist the Imperius Curse."

He hadn't meant to say it in quite so snide a manner, but it left his lips with that tone automatically. Too many years he'd spent, waiting for one of Potter's prodigal talents to fail; his statement twisted naturally into a barb, despite the inappropriate timing.

A look of absolute anguish twisted across Potter's face, and the boy stared shame-faced at the floor.

Had this been anyone else, Snape might have congratulated them on their guile. A Slytherin would have seen the murder of a house-elf as a small sacrifice to pay to conceal one's resistance to the Imperius Curse from an enemy.

Potter, though, very likely had not seen it that way; he would have tried to throw off the curse. He'd clearly tried, and for some inexplicable reason, failed.

Then again, if he'd been entirely unsuccessful, why had Malfoy alluded to the boy's ability to resist the Imperius Curse?

"He cast the Imperius on you, and you killed her," Snape said slowly, watching the boy flinch. "And just what spell did you use for this?"

Harry avoided his eyes. "I-- er, I'm not sure. Incendio, maybe? A blasting curse? It was-- it happened that way with the ducks. But… er, I'm still not sure."

"You're not sure?" Snape echoed skeptically. Since when would an incineration spell harm a house-elf? And why couldn't the boy tell him?

Harry was scratching furiously at his forehead. "I'm not sure. I don't really remember. You see, I-- he-- He was showing me a blasting curse, and then after the ducks when I, er, well-- she was dead. I don’t know-- Professor Dumbledore, what will he-- when will he--"

The boy was getting agitated again, and Snape realized suddenly that Potter was far too upset to give him a clear account.

He could easily fetch the boy a calming draught … But he was beginning to think he understood more about this situation than the boy himself did.

Yes, he could see Lucius's hand in every facet of it.

"Potter, go back to bed," Snape said absently.

Malfoy had used the Imperius Curse on Potter under his roof. He'd risked attracting the attention of the Mini--

"Bed?" Harry echoed blankly. "What about-- I killed Minky. Aren't you-- are you going to do something? I killed her, Snape!"

Potter's anxiety was simply growing irritating now.

"Don't be so melodramatic," Snape said repressively. "She was a house-elf. It's a great inconvenience, but it's hardly an unprecedented tragedy."

The words did not seem to have their intended effect. Harry's expression crumpled, and if anything, he looked more upset and wrought with self-condemnation than before.

Snape narrowed his eyes at the boy. He felt hard pressed to summon fury towards the boy when his last bit of energy was directed towards the ruination of Lucius Malfoy. But he should at least say something; he'd been waiting for days for the opportunity to berate the boy, and here it was.

"You were stupid to let Lucius manipulate you. I warned you about him… but the great Harry Potter can't be bothered to listen to other, lesser wiz--"

The harsh words seemed to rouse something in the boy, and Harry looked up intently as if to drink in Snape's scorn.

The rest of the insult died on Snape's lips.

He suddenly found himself utterly at a loss. What did the boy want from him?

How was he supposed to deal with this strange creature? The face gazing back at his-- the earnest green eyes, the features twisted with despair… This person seeking Snape's rage… The boy suddenly seemed more foreign than ever before. A stranger.

"Do not leave this room," he instructed Harry harshly, trying to shake off the feeling that this was all wrong. "And do not speak to Malfoy unless I tell you to. It is vital that you listen to me. Understand?"

Harry nodded mutely, still looking utterly wrecked by the events of the day. At least he was certain, for once, that the boy would obey him.

Malfoy had used an Unforgivable under Severus's roof… He could easily have attracted the attention of the Ministry of Magic.

And that was exactly how he would spin it.

"It is as though he does not fear being caught, My Lord." And perhaps, for some flourish: "He endangers my position as well; it will erode the Headmaster's trust if he believes I have been casting Unforgivables outside his knowledge…"

He had not pressed his case tonight; he'd made his usual report to the Dark Lord, only adding off-handedly his line about Dumbledore's refusal to discuss Malfoy's escape. He'd allowed the sentence to hang for the merest second, just enough to see those red eyes narrow into slits as his master processed the information-- the Dark Lord missed nothing-- and then he'd moved to other matters.

It was merely the seed of suspicion, but he thought, just maybe, it would bear fruit. Lucius doing something as rash and detectable as an Unforgivable demonstrated a blatant lack of caution… The carelessness one might evince if one's safety were assured.

Snape knew that in Malfoy's case, the carelessness stemmed from arrogance.

But perhaps the Dark Lord's paranoid mind would interpret it in a very different light.

At the very least, it was a legitimate excuse for Snape to kick Lucius the hell out of his house.

* * *

Alone in his study, he cast the Prior Incantato spell on Harry's wand with the slightest flicker of dread. He didn't think the boy capable of a killing curse, but given Potter's other innate abilities, it would come as no shock if he proved the rare exception who mastered it on his first try.

A shadowy figure rose. The most recent spell was an Incineration Curse.

"Deletrius," Snape whispered, ending the spell and setting Harry's wand down with a profound sense of relief.

Whatever else Dumbledore might think of him, he would never live down the man's disappointment if he sent Potter back to Hogwarts fully versed in the most dreadful Unforgivable. It would confirm every poor opinion the man had ever held of him if he managed to corrupt the Boy-Who-Lived in the space of a single vacation. Besides that, learning an Unforgivable could only lead Harry to ill.

An incendio. His brow furrowed. He could certainly see how it might destroy a non-magical being such as a duck, as Potter had been rambling about, but there was certainly no way the spell carried enough destructive power in itself to kill a house-elf.

Simply amazing. All the time Harry had spent with that oversized oaf Hagrid, and he still hadn't learned the difficulties involved in the destruction of a magical creature. There was an innate resistance to most destructive spells in even the weakest house-elf. Short of an outright killing curse, they were virtually invincible.

But the boy was convinced he'd killed Minky.

Snape smirked. He had to award Malfoy some points for this newest scheme; the man had been acquainted with Harry for only a few days, and even without full knowledge of the boy's identity, he'd hit the child in his weakest spot. Lucius Malfoy's only miscalculation lay in his assumption that Harry's sense of self-preservation would outweigh his guilty conscience. He'd obviously believed the boy would hide the truth from Severus, and perhaps even cling tighter to his new mentor as protection against the consequences of his actions.

Severus was overcome with an odd feeling of gratitude, that for once, for once, the boy had trusted him. He'd made all of this so much simpler. How easily he could have drawn them both into Malfoy's trap.

Harry had clearly resisted the Imperius Curse, yet somehow or other, Malfoy had tricked him into thinking he hadn't. Snape momentarily considered informing the boy of the truth, easing what seemed to be the boy's devastating sense of guilt.

But… no. Not yet.

Every Slytherin instinct in him screamed against the notion. Right now, Harry was crippled with self-reproach and entirely malleable to his wishes. The most urgent concern at the moment was getting Lucius the hell away from them, and doing it in some way that would not offend the Dark Lord. He needed the boy's complete cooperation, and a guilt-torn Harry seemed far easier to control than the alternative.

As soon as Malfoy was gone, he would tell Harry the truth.

Until then, a little more guilt certainly wouldn't kill the boy.

So it was that Snape returned to Harry's room and gave the boy's wand back to him. The young wizard grasped it with a trembling hand, and sat there staring at it grimly.

"Lucius Malfoy was always rather liberal in his use of the Unforgivables," Snape informed him, watching the boy critically. "I had not dreamed he'd possess the sheer audacity to use them in my abode, when he is fully aware of my precarious position, but evidently his arrogance knows no bounds. So, Potter, this is our situation: I will discreetly monitor Malfoy's interactions with you. The moment he slips up and attempts another of those spells, I'll expel him from this house. As long as I have a recollection of my own to yield to the Dark Lord's legilimency as proof of Malfoy's actions, I have a cast-iron reason to rid myself of him."

"You can't just… make up a memory? Like with Sir--" Harry's voice seemed to choke off abruptly, and Snape found himself wondering idly if this house-elf debacle was going to launch the boy back into the thick of his despair over Black.

He sighed inwardly; more Potter angst was the last thing he needed to deal with at the moment.

"I cannot fabricate a memory, Potter, because the Dark Lord is not nearly so gullible as you are. He would never invest faith in a disingenuous recollection."

Harry physically cringed at his words, and Snape mentally berated himself. Black was not the sore spot to be pressing, not right now. And… it wasn't entirely a case of gullibility. Harry simply hadn't the mental training to distinguish a false recollection from a genuine.

He attempted to redirect Harry's attention. "If Malfoy has truly used this curse several times, I'm confident he will feel free to use it again. Especially now that he perceives you to be in a disadvantaged position. I suppose he'll need to be… induced."

He scowled as soon as the words left his lips. Dare he trust Potter in this?

Perhaps… The boy hadn't given anything away up until this point.

And if he knew Lucius, the man would feel irritated by the boy's resistance to the Imperius Curse. He would look for any reason to attempt it again, to salvage his pride if nothing else.

"Don't worry," Harry spoke up, still staring with hooded eyes at his wand. "I… it shouldn't be hard to induce him. He doesn't really need a reason, I don't think."

No, just an opportunity.

He barely heard the boy add, "But I bet I could give him one, anyway."

* * *

A part of it was simple vengeance.

A part of him, still reeling from that horrific thing he'd done earlier that day, cringed even from this… even from pain inflicted on Malfoy.

But Snape wanted him to induce Lucius into using another Unforgivable, and this was certainly a way. Malfoy himself could not have contended with it. After all, he'd taught him all about it. By Lucius's own code, this was as legitimate a retaliation as any for the events of the day.

At the very least, Harry could try to atone for what he'd done to Minky. He was helping Snape hurt Lucius… And if Malfoy retaliated, all the better. The horrible, wretched guilt eating away inside him might subside somewhat if he just had a chance to pay for it. Whether it was penance at Malfoy's hands, or at Snape's, at least it was something to quell this awful feeling… there would be some sort of absolution.

Of course, whatever happened, it would not be enough. Harry knew that. How could you atone for murder?

He rubbed at his scar as he waited, knowing Snape was casting a net of detection spells throughout the manor.

He needed to induce Malfoy into using an Unforgivable. He already knew how.

It took him only a short time to shed the requisite six drops of blood for the Infervesco Sanguis curse. Even less time to speak the incantation, to direct the energy through his wand and gracefully release it into the air with a practiced gesture.

And then he waited.

He wasn't certain just how long it took Malfoy to experience the sensation of his blood boiling to life within his veins, but he guessed it hadn't taken the man long to figure out who'd put that feeling there.

The door to his room burst open. Lucius Malfoy staggered through the doorway, his features twisted with pain and absolute rage.

"Hi, Mr. Malfoy." Harry smiled coldly. "Still proud of me?"