Chapter 1: The Phoenix Spy’s Mission

 

The cool, damp air of the dungeons of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were unusually quiet. It was the first official day of summer vacation, and Professor Severus Tobias Snape, Head of Slytherin House and esteemed Potions Master, was reveling in the tranquil relaxation. Severus had barricaded himself in his personal Potions lab and brewed all morning. The lithe black-clad man was working on a Dreamless Sleep to restock the Infirmary's stores, seeing as Harry Potter, the Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-His-Life-Miserable, had drank all of the last doses after witnessing Cedric Diggory's death and the Dark Lord Voldemort's return.

Severus repressed a shudder and averted his mind from thoughts of the Dark Lord. He was in an unusually sour mood, seeing as he was going to have to revert to his old ways again. He was going to have to return to spying for Albus Dumbledore against Lord Voldemort, as a twisted sort of double agent. Severus sighed and closed his eyes, resting the palms of his hands flat against the cold stone of the work table he was standing before.

The soft hiss and bubble of the calmly simmering potion beside him pacified his nerves and smoothed down his ruffled feathers. To put it truthfully, Severus was afraid. He knew very well that he could be killed any moment he stepped off of the thin, dangerous line he walked. There was Voldemort and his Death Eaters, the Ministry and Azkaban, and the manipulative Albus Dumbledore, leader of the 'Light' side. Any one of those aspects would be on him like starving wolves if he tripped and fell.

Death was imminent, and Severus knew it was now only a matter of time, rather than if, not how he was killed. Severus opened his eyes and swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing prominently in his throat. The Potions Master took a deep breath and picked up the stirring rod he’d set down by the base of his cauldron, and began counting as he stirred the mixture in sweeping, counter-clockwise motions.

Suddenly, Severus hissed in pain as a sharp, burning jab of what felt like fire shot through his lower left arm. He grimaced, breathing in sharply through his nose and setting the stirring rod back down. Severus cast a simple stasis charm on the Dreamless Sleep before turning on his heel and striding out of the room.

He stepped into his bedroom and Accio’ed his Death Eater robes out of the wardrobe. The raven-haired man swiftly changed, then snatched his mask off of the nightstand and stalked out of his personal rooms. It took him record time to arrive at the Headmaster’s office, and he rapped his knuckles sharply on the wood of the heavy oak door.

“Enter!” Albus called cheerfully from inside, and Severus pushed the door open and slipped into the room. “Ah, Severus, my boy. What can I do for you on this fine summer day?” The Headmaster asked, his vibrant blue eyes twinkling merrily.

“I’ve been Summoned.” Severus responded curtly as the pain in his arm grew more intense with every passing second. “Urgently.” He ground out, clenching his jaw against the itching, boiling sensation of his Dark Mark.

Dumbledore frowned, his blue eyes ceasing their incessant dancing and instead dimming with a protective light. “I see. What do you expect the Dark Lord to question you about?”

Severus shook his head in defeat, greasy raven hair falling into his eyes. “I do not know. It is a good thing I’ve been working on my Occlumency shields. He will probably demand to know why I did not show up when he Summoned us to the graveyard.” Severus said, curling his hands into fists. “I must be off, Headmaster.”

“Of course, Severus. Be safe.” Dumbledore said softly.

Severus gave a brief nod and whirled, stalking out of the room and down the stairs with a flurry of robes. He reached the Entrance Hall and exited the castle swiftly, making his way down towards the Forbidden Forest and his Apparition point. It had been so long since he’d last needed to travel this way so quickly, with such an air of importance in his stride. He didn’t like it at all. This brought back too many regrets, too many memories he’d rather have lie buried for all eternity.

As Severus entered the shade of the Forbidden Forest, he slid his mask into place, the contours of the cold, black material fitting his face perfectly. It had, after all, been made with a drop of his blood. Severus cleared his thoughts as he moved into the center of a small clearing. Then, with a loud crack, he Apparated.

-ooOoo-

Severus watched, his face blank under his mask, as Thorfinn Rowle, one of his fellow Death Eaters, was tortured under the Cruciatus curse. He swallowed thickly as the man’s screams of agony bit into his mental defenses. Severus was getting a nervous feeling deep in his gut. He was starting to get frightened. The Dark Lord had gone through more than four other victims before his cold, sanguine gaze landed directly on the Potions Master.

The Dark Lord had smiled evilly, then returned to casting miscellaneous Dark spells on Thorfinn. Severus blinked as suddenly, the curse was broke, and the russet-haired man fell to the ground in a trembling heap. He sobbed weakly, trying to curl up into the fetal position.

Voldemort glided over and roughly nudged the man in the ribs with the very tips of his toes. Thorfinn scrambled to his feet, tears running silently down his face as he shakily stumbled back into the circle of Death Eaters, opposite of where Severus stood beside Evan Rosier.

They were gathered in the dining hall of Riddle Manor, the Dark Lord’s newly renovated home. Apparently, the Dark Lord was sick and tired of using Malfoy Manor as his headquarters, and decided he was going to use his despised father’s home.

The Dark Lord turned and faced Severus, looking directly into his eyes. Severus felt Voldemort casting a silent Legilimens on him, and he brought his Occlumency shields down just enough so the Dark Lord could gain access to his mind. Severus felt the familiar sensation of Voldemort sifting through his memories, searching for any sign of betrayal. Finally, a few tense moments later, Voldemort withdrew. Severus’ shields were back up the second the Dark Lord was gone. He mentally shuddered.

No matter how many times Voldemort had done that to him, he’d always felt violated and empty afterwards. At least the Dark Lord hadn’t been violent that time. Sometimes, the snake-like man preferred using what Severus had bitterly nicknamed mind-rape. It hurt like hell, that was for sure.

The Dark Lord stared icily at Snape for a moment, and then began to speak. “Severus. My favorite spy. Why did you not come when you were called? I ordered you to the graveyard.” He asked silkily, his voice grating against Severus and causing bile to rise in the Potions Master’s throat.

Severus swallowed thickly and responded, “It would have been suspicious if I had left during such a time of panic. I was needed at Hogwarts to keep my cover. It would have been obvious if I had left when Karkaroff did.”

“I see. So you do not know that Igor never came when he was Summoned either?” Voldemort asked nastily, his ruby eyes gleaming.

Severus knew very well Igor had run with his tail between his legs the second the Dark Mark stirred to life. “No, my Lord.”

“Ah. So, would you care to explain to me, why, you did not find our friend Igor and guide him back into my arms?” The Dark Lord hissed.

“Dumbledore forbade me to have any contact that was more than necessary with him, my Lord.” Severus said quietly, holding the Dark Lord’s gaze evenly, as it would have been disrespectful to look away.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Crucio.” Voldemort drawled, almost as if he was bored.

The bolt of crimson magic hit Severus like a train, and the pain hit him even harder after that. The burning agony coursed through his veins, taking his muscles and squeezing them in an iron grip. Severus bit his lower lip so hard he drew blood. With the taste of metallic salt in his mouth, Severus felt his knees buckle out from underneath him.

He hit the ground awkwardly, a hoarse scream tearing from his throat as he jack-knifed off the floor. He felt the cold marble beneath him through his robes, and he writhed, unable to control his body any longer. All the Potions Master could feel was agony, and he hated it. It brought back so many experiences…so many memories. The both physical and emotional pain was almost unbearable.

When the spell finally ended, Severus collapsed to the ground, panting and shaking. It felt like white-hot strings of fire were wrapping around his body, and he was developing a migraine. He was dizzy, nauseous, and it felt like every fiber of his being had been set on an unnaturally hot fire. His head was pounding as he lay there, limply, and gazed up at his sadistic Master.

Eyelashes fluttering weakly, Severus focused his steadily blurring gaze on Voldemort, who was watching him with a lazy smirk on his lips. “Thank you for attending our lovely little get-together, Severus. I expect you to arrive more promptly, with information on the activities of Albus Dumbledore, next time you are Summoned. Dismissed.” The Dark Lord flicked his wand and turned on his heel to climb the stairs of his dais and move to sit on his throne.

He sat, legs crossed at the knees, sanguine eyes cold as he observed Severus awkwardly drag himself to his feet and push through the throngs of Death Eaters to get to the Apparition station. Lucius strolled in past him, smiling, and nodded. Severus ignored him and the smaller blonde figure that walked in past him.

The younger blonde seemed frightened, but then again, this was a Death Eater meeting. Severus swallowed and stopped beside the door of the hall, in a small circle where Apparition was allowed. His head throbbing, Severus took a deep, shuddering breath, and Disapparated.

-ooOoo-

Severus weakly made his way up the castle steps, muscles protesting with every movement he managed to make. It was a miracle he’d not collapsed the moment he’d Apparated onto Hogwarts grounds, although he had seen spots and swayed dangerously before being able to begin the short walk up to the school.

Trembling as he reached the statue of the gargoyle, he hoarsely croaked the password (Sugar Quills) and vanished up the stairwell. Severus sagged against the cool stone wall as he reached out a clenched fist and rapped feebly on the smooth oak door to the Headmaster’s office. Without waiting for Albus’ blessing for him to enter, Severus opened the door and stepped in.

“Ah, Severus, you’ve made it back safely.” Dumbledore greeted, smiling fatherly at his spy.

“I suppose.” Severus replied dryly, his voice cracking on the last syllable as he attempted to enunciate the words.

Albus’ smile went bittersweet, then faded away completely. “The Cruciatus?” He asked softly, his clear blue eyes darkening in a mix of anger and grief.

“Y-Yes, Headmaster. The Dark Lord expects-” Severus broke off and cleared his throat, which was raw and aggravated from screaming. “The Dark Lord expects a traitor in his midst.”

“I see. Is this how you came to be tortured?” Albus asked, folding his hands together on the desk before him and pursing his lips.

Severus nodded, but that was a mistake, and he immediately regretted the action.  He swayed dangerously as his vision blurred and his mind swam in and out of focus. “A-Alb-” The Potions Master’s eyes rolled up almost comically and with a small whimper, he collapsed, allowing the upsurge of unconsciousness to engulf him.

-ooOoo-

“…and he went through a lot last night, Albus. It’s a very dangerous thing you have him doing. If that curse had been held for much longer, Severus could’ve been in danger of losing his mind.” Poppy Pomfrey said, the concern and disapproval thick in her voice.

Severus shifted slightly, refraining from opening his eyes. He was curious as to what Albus and Poppy would say about him. He was still in pain, but it was only a dull ache. Poppy had obviously spelled the Cruciatus counter and a pain relieving potion into him.

His more extreme digits were slightly numb, and he had pins and needles, as if he had fallen asleep in an awkward position. The spy’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, swallowing to rejuvenate his dry, sore throat. Severus then turned his attention back to what the others were saying.

“I hope he’ll be up and about by this afternoon at the latest. He’ll be in a little pain, but that’s natural.” Poppy explained shortly.

Fabric rustled, and suddenly, the light Severus could see through his eyelids went dim. “I know you’re awake, young man. I’ve taken care of you since you were eleven years old. Open your eyes.” Poppy said, smoothing his bangs out of his face.

Severus wrinkled his nose, onyx eyes popping open as he recoiled from the Medi-Witch’s touch. He glowered at her, propping himself up on his elbows. “Leave my hair alone, woman.” He growled.

All that came out was a raspy hiss, and an affronted expression came over his face. Poppy smiled, and from over her shoulder, Albus chuckled. The early dawn light streaming through the windows, Severus blinked around and realized it was the next day.

Poppy pressed a glass of water into his hands and helped him sit up, fluffing the pillows up behind him so he could lean back against them. The raven-haired man felt calmed by the hygienic smelling familiar room. He’d woken up in the Infirmary more times than anyone else, Poppy claimed wryly. Except maybe Harry Potter.

Severus gratefully drank the water in one go, then let Poppy take the glass from him. He wiped the sleeve of his hospital gown across his mouth, then asked,  “How long was I out?”

“All of last afternoon and night. You returned from the meeting at about five o’clock.” Dumbledore said, smiling proudly down at him. “You did well, my boy.”

Severus frowned at the compliment, feeling his ears tinge red with embarrassment. “Yes, well…need I make my report?” He asked eloquently.

Albus and Poppy shared a knowing look that made Severus’ ears go redder. “Yes, Severus.” Dumbledore sighed exasperatedly.

“Alright.” Severus swallowed and smoothed the comforter out across his thighs. “When I arrived, Walden MacNair was being tortured under the Cruciatus. Next, Rodolphus Lestrange, both of the Notts, and Thorfinn Rowle were also tortured under the Cruciatus.”

“And then you were?” Albus prompted as Poppy busied herself with dosing out potions for Severus to take, listening half-heartedly.

Severus nodded. “And the Dark Lord asked why I didn’t go to him when he Summoned me the night of the last task. He also wanted to know why I did not guide Igor Karkaroff back to his Master.” Severus said, a sneer pulling at his thin lips. “The man apparently ran off with his tail between his legs.”

Albus nodded in a calm understanding. “Indeed. Is there anything else you wished to share, my boy?” He asked, raising both eyebrows.

“The Dark Lord wants me to be quicker arriving at the meetings. And I am to keep tabs on you and report to him.” Severus responded dutifully.

Dumbledore nodded, eyes twinkling. “Thank you, my boy. Now, get some sleep. I shall see you later today.” With that, he patted Severus’ knee, then turned and strolled out of the Infirmary.

Severus licked his lips again as Poppy approached with a mother-hen sort of look in her eyes. “You will drink this.” She handed him the Dreamless Sleep she’d apparently finished brewing for him.

He frowned. “Poppy, I can sleep on my own. I am not a child.” Severus said snappishly, crossing his arms over his chest.

She raised an eyebrow in an imitation of him. “And I do not want you having nightmares anymore. Drink.” Before he could react, she reached up and pinched his nose shut. “Open up, you stubborn man.” She ordered.

Severus scowled, but compliantly opened his mouth. She released his nose and pressed the phial against his thin lips. He quickly gulped it down, then spat, “I am more than capable of drinking my own damn potion!”

The Medi-Witch smiled at him. “I know. You’re also capable of using wandless magic to make potions disappear and make it look as if you’ve drank them.” She replied matter-of-factly.

Then-the nerve of that woman!-she brushed his raven bangs out of his face, tucking the greasy locks behind the shell of his ear. “Now sleep, you git.”

Severus grimaced and settled back down into the pillows as he felt the effects of the potion take over him with a sudden wave of drowsiness. With a sigh, Severus closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

-ooOoo-

 

A/N: PM me if you want the original version of this fic. Second chapter, where Mr. Draco Malfoy comes into the story. R&R?

Chapter 2: The Dragon’s Dilemma
When Severus awoke, the first sensation that came over him was the warmth of the afternoon sunshine falling across his face. Eyelashes fluttering, he opened his eyes and blinked owlishly up at the ceiling. The Potions Master took a deep breath, than sat up and stretched, working out the kinks in his spine.
“Good afternoon, Severus.” Poppy called softly from where she was working at her desk in her office.
The door of the small adjoining room was wide open, and she had a clear view of her single patient. Severus nodded to her and sank back into the pillows, closing his eyes with a sigh. It felt good, not having to worry about hormonal brats scurrying into the Infirmary and finding him in a moment of weakness.
“You received a letter from Mr. Malfoy when you were asleep.” Poppy said, standing and walking out into the larger, brighter room.
Severus opened one eye and drowsily observed her as she held out a cream colored envelope. The Potions Master extended his hand to accept the missive as Poppy waved it at him impatiently.
“I wonder whatever Mr. Malfoy could need this early into the summer.” Poppy noted absentmindedly as Severus sat up again, leaned back against his propped up pillows, and slit open the letter.
Severus grunted noncommittally and cracked his neck as he unfolded the piece of parchment and began to read.
‘Dear Uncle Severus,
May I stay with you this summer at Prince Manor? My father wants me to meet one of his friends, and I’d rather not. Please reply expeditiously. It would mean a lot to me if you sent a letter to my mother requesting that you come retrieve me without my father knowing.
Thank you. Sincerely, your Godson,
Draconis Lucius Abraxas Severus Malfoy’
Severus stared blankly at the parchment for a moment, then reread it. Then he reread it again. And again. He could sense Poppy’s concerned presence hovering somewhere besides his elbow, but he just couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Not Draco. Not the boy he’d come to love as a son. Severus closed his eyes for a moment as he slowly folded the letter in half and returned it to his envelope.
“I need to speak to Albus.” He said softly.
Poppy frowned. “Severus, you’re still weak from the Cruc-” Severus cut her off by raising a hand.
“I need to talk to him now, Poppy.” Severus said, his tone low and dangerous.
Poppy sighed in exasperation. “Alright, you stubborn man. But promise me you’ll rest afterwards.” She bargained, smoothing her hands over her skirt.
He nodded and tossed the blankets back before climbing out of the bed. She handed him his wand, and he swiftly transfigured his hospital gown back into his black teaching robes. She smiled at him, and he turned and strode out of the room, cloak billowing.
-ooOoo-
For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, Severus found himself sitting in one of the hardback wooden chairs before Albus’ desk in the Headmaster’s office. He took another sip of his Earl Grey, breathing in the soothing scent of the bitter tea. He swallowed as Albus smiled at him from across his antique mahogany desk, steepling his fingers and looking over the rims of his half-moon spectacles.
“Now, Severus. You received a letter from Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore began, his smile brightening.
“Yes. He has requested that I collect him from Malfoy Manor and have him stay with me this summer. He claims that his father wants him to meet a certain friend of Lucius’. I believe he is referring to the Dark Lord.” Severus explained darkly.
Dumbledore nodded, folding his hands together and resting them on the desk surface. “I see. And what do you think we should do to resolve this situation?” He asked, raising both eyebrows.
Severus clenched his hands into fists until the knuckles were white. “I want to go get him! My Godson is not going down the path that I foolishly followed Lucius onto!” The Potions Master snarled, onyx eyes narrowed into slits.
Dumbledore nodded again, brow quirking slightly. “Alright.”
“Alright? What do you want me to do?! Albus, I need help, damn it!” Severus spat, slamming his tea down onto Dumbledore’s desk and standing in one fluid movement. “I can’t do this alone! I need your guidance!”
The lithe black-clad man whirled and began pacing as the Headmaster slowly stood and meandered over to him. “Severus, my boy. I do say you’re becoming quite the force to reckon with when dealing with Mr. Malfoy.”
Severus ignored the old man and continued his aggravated journey in circles around the small room. “Then what? What should I do?!” He demanded.
Albus gently placed a hand on his arm. “Follow your heart.”
The ridiculousness of that statement was more than enough to cause Severus to stop and gawk at his mentor. “Pardon?”
Albus smiled cheerfully. “Well, my boy, if your heart is telling you to rush in and kidnap Draconis, I advise you to do so.” The old wizard said calmly, blue eyes twinkling.
“Are you mad?” Severus demanded, even as the twinkling increased tenfold—a sure sign that Dumbledore was planning to manipulate something or someone.
“It’s been known that I have momentary fits of insanity.” He replied merrily, returning to his desk and sitting with a brightening smile. “Severus, my boy, I think it would be wonderful if you went and collected young Mr. Malfoy.”
Severus nodded with an exasperated sigh as he smoothed the front of his robes down. “Well, if you had just said that in the first place I could’ve already been gone to get him.” He said wryly.
Dumbledore smiled again. “There’s no time like the present to make up for lost time.” He announced brightly.
Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes as he swept out the door, not deigning the comment worthy enough of a response.
-ooOoo-
The Floo blazed to life as Severus called, “Malfoy Manor!” and stepped into the emerald flames.
The Potions Master found himself being spat out into one of the many foyers of the Manor, and he was almost immediately greeted by Narcissa. “You received my letter?” Severus asked smoothly.
She nodded, a concerned expression crossing her aristocratic features. “Lucius took Draco somewhere last night, but I never would have expected this! The boy isn’t even fifteen yet!” She whispered sharply.
He nodded, onyx eyes softening with compassion for the frightened woman. “I know.” Severus glanced up the stairs to his left. “Is he ready?”
Narcissa ran her hands over the wrinkled fabric of her dress skirt in a futile attempt to smooth it out. “Yes, I think so. I’ll go get him. Wait here, and if Lucius comes…” She sent him a pleading look, and he nodded.
“I’ll come up with something.” Severus assured the woman who had acted like an older sister to him countless times.
Several tense minutes later, Draco and Narcissa hurried down the stairs and back over to the black-clad man. “Professor!” Draco breathed, dropping the bags he was carrying and throwing his arms around his Godfather’s waist.
The young blonde buried his face in Severus’ chest, taking several deep, trembling breaths. “Thank you!” He whispered, voice breaking with emotion on the last syllable.
Severus nodded slightly and pulled away. “Enough, we must go before your father returns home.” The raven-haired man turned to Narcissa. “If Lucius causes any problems—which he undoubtedly will—do not hesitate to owl me for assistance.” He said firmly.
Narcissa nodded and took a small step forward to lean up and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Severus. I cannot express how much this means to my son and I.” She said, fluttering her eyelashes to bat back the tears welling up behind her eyes.
Severus gently squeezed her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “I know. It’s the least I can do. But you straighten Lucius’ priorities out, for me, will you?” He said, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips.
She nodded and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Alright.” Narcissa turned to Draco and pulled him in for a hug. “Be safe, Dragon, and listen to what your Godfather tells you.” She said softly, breathing in and out slowly.
He nodded. “Yes, mum. I love you.” Draco whispered.
She smiled sadly. “I love you too, my baby boy.” She caressed his cheek, then released him and stepped back. “Take care of him, Severus.”
“I will.” Severus promised. “Come, Draco.” He ushered the boy towards the still raging Floo.
“Professor Snape’s office!” Draco called before stepping through the flames.
Severus nodded to Narcissa, then followed suit, bringing the boy’s luggage through with him.
-ooOoo-
Severus set down Draco’s bags and surveyed the room. Albus had added another room onto his personal chambers. They were standing in the doorway of a small, but functional, room that was painted a pale beige color. Draco looked up at Severus, who shrugged one shoulder and said, “This shall be yours until we go to my home, I suppose.”
Draco nodded. “Thank you, Professor.” He said quietly, silver eyes alight with gratitude.
Severus glanced away and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes, well, here we are. I’ll see if the House Elves can make us dinner.” With that, he turned and swept back down the hall to the living room of his personal rooms.
Draco smirked slightly at the man’s antics and entered the room, picking his bags up and then setting them on the bed. The room was furnished with only the necessities—which included a twin-sized bed, a dresser, a full-length mirror, and a small adjoining bathroom.
The bed’s comforter was a robin’s egg blue, the pillows white. It was soft as his own bed back at Malfoy Manor, and Draco thought absentmindedly that he wouldn’t mind taking a nap there. The dresser was crafted from cherry-colored maple, the mirror’s frame also fashioned from the same wood.
Peeking inside the small bathroom, Draco found that it included simple toiletries—a toothbrush, toothpaste, a hair brush, towels, and a razor—along with a toilet and small shower. Draco smirked at Dumbledore’s coddling and closed the door to the room.
He began unpacking, folding his clothes and placing them in the dresser mechanically. The more personal items he’d chosen to bring—a figurine of a Norwegian Ridgeback, his school things, some books, and his Nimbus 2001—were all stored in the nightstands or on top of the dresser. The broom he propped up next to his bed.
After surveying the room and finding it acceptable, he turned and exited, closing the door behind him. Directly across the hall was Severus’ room, and down the hallway to the left was his personal Potions lab. To the right led to the kitchenette, separate bathroom, living room and breakfast nook.
The place was cozy enough, all done in deep greens and beiges. Most of the walls of the living room were covered in bookcases, which held hundreds of books. It was like half the library. Shaking his head, Draco walked into the mini kitchen and sat down at the small circular table.
“Thank you for collecting me, Professor.” Draco said quietly.
Severus glanced up from the House Elf he was speaking to. “You’re welcome, Draco. Just bring us whatever they’re serving in the Great Hall.” The Elf nodded and Apparated with a sharp pop.
The Potions Master sat beside his Godson and said, “Just call me Severus while we’re here, Draco. There’s no need to be formal when we aren’t in school.”
Draco nodded. “Alright, Severus. Can you keep a secret?” The blonde wanted to damn himself the second the words were out of his mouth as Severus elegantly raised an eyebrow, lips quirking in amusement.
Yeah, that’s the way to impress him! Very adult, Draco! He chastised himself. “Well, last night, my father took me to meet the friend I told you about in my letter.” Draco swallowed and felt his silver eyes grow dark at the memory.
“Yes, and who was this ‘friend’?” Severus prompted, folding his hands in his lap and fixing Draco with an inquisitive stare.
“It was You-Know-Who.” Draco blurted, squeezing his silver eyes shut. “Please, I don’t want to be one of his-”
Severus silenced him by raising a single, slender finger. “Draconis, I’m very proud that you contacted me and allowed me to assist you. It was very grown up of you to ask for help.” Severus paused and lowered his finger. “What happened?”
“Well, he wanted to know what sort of things I like to do…like Quidditch and what types of books I like, what’s my favorite subject in school…stuff like that.” Draco replied, fidgeting slightly. “He even wanted to know what my sexuality is.”
Severus resisted the urge to face-palm. “Bloody fool.” He muttered, mostly to himself as two House Elves returned with their meal.
When the Elves were gone and the two were eating, Severus said, “Well, that’s to be expected. He wants to know who he’s recruiting.”
Draco frowned. “But I don’t want-”
“Did they brand you with the Dark Mark?” Severus asked before Draco could even finish his sentence.
“N-No…” Draco said, rolling up his left sleeve and showing his arm to the older man. “All we did was talk.”
“Did the Dark Lord ask you anything that really made you uncomfortable?” Severus asked, raising both eyebrows.
“Uh…he asked whether or not I would kill animals. That kind of freaked me out.” Draco responded. “The whole time he just kept looking at me like I was some sort of treat.”
Severus frowned. “I know the feeling. I believe I saw you enter with your father last night. I had been under the Cruciatus curse, so I couldn’t stop and chat.” He said, watching as Draco’s silver eyes went wide.
“Are you okay?” The blonde demanded, eyes flashing.
“I’m fine. Madam Pomfrey took care of me. Now, let’ actually eat before the food goes bad.” Severus said, picking up his fork.
Draco nodded, and the rest of the meal was conducted in a companionable silence.
-ooOoo-

Chapter 3: Potter’s Problem

Harry James Potter wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced at the watch strapped around his wrist. It was four o’clock in the afternoon, three days since summer break had begun. He frowned and returned to the task set before him; weeding the Dursley’s overgrown front lawn.

With every sprout of weed he picked, he felt the sweat trickle down the back of his neck even more obviously than before. His too-large t-shirt was stuck to this back, plastered there with his perspiration. His shoulders and neck were hopelessly burnt in a nasty sunburn from being outside for the majority of the past three days.

Harry blindly reached for the pruners somewhere near his right knee. Not realizing they were lying open, he closed his fingers around them and picked them up. The Gryffindor yelped in pain and dropped them, staring in horror as a deep, long gash opened on the palm of his left hand.

Crimson blood welled up against the skin, and Harry immediately acted on instinct. He ripped off the hem of his t-shirt with one hand and wrapped the strip of cloth around his hand. He used his teeth and nimble fingers to clumsily tie the make-shift bandage onto his hand.

“Damn…” Harry muttered as he glanced over to the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive.

Luckily, Aunt Petunia, who was sipping a cool glass of lemonade, hadn’t noticed his folly. With a sigh, Harry wiped his good hand on his jeans and stood up, taking the pruners with him. “Aunt Petunia?” He called hesitantly as he walked over to her.

“What, boy?” She snapped, turning to glare down her long face at him.

“I just finished this section; may I please have some water now?” Harry asked in the politest way he thought possible.

“Finished?” She sneered at him. “You missed a spot, brat.” She pointed, smiling nastily.

He sighed and licked his dry, cracked lips. “Yes, Aunt Petunia.” He said exasperatedly as he walked back towards the lawn.

Harry hadn’t had a drink all morning, and he had been outside ever since he’d been woken up at 6. He was thirsty, frankly, and he was hungry. The first night he had arrived at his relative’s house, he’d been given water, bread, and stuffed into the cupboard under the stairs. His school things had been taken and locked away in some secret place.

The same routine had gone on for the next two days: be woken up early, cook the Dursley’s breakfast, drink one glass of water and eat one slice of bread, than begin his chores. He would be back inside by 6 o’ clock, eat another piece of bread, cook dinner, and then return to his employer.

By the time Harry had cooked dinner and was sent back to his cupboard that night, his injured hand was keeping up a constant, burning throb of pain. As the Boy-Who-Lived sat in his cupboard, he curled in on himself, pulled his shirt closer around himself, and attempted to drift off to sleep.

-ooOoo-

“Cedric! No!”

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

A flash of green light, and Cedric’s limp body dropped to the cold ground with a sickening thud. Harry dashed over to his friend, collapsing to the ground at his side. “CEDRIC!” He screamed as he realized the boy’s eyes were glazed over with the cool mist of death. “NO!”

As the snake-like man approached him, he attempted to pick up his wand, only to find that his fingers hurt too much to hold the sliver of wood. “Good evening, Mr. Potter.” The voice that came out of Voldemort’s mouth was Snape’s instead.

“NO!” Harry screamed as Voldemort smiled nastily and raised his wand. “NO!”

“Avada Kedavra.” The Dark Lord drawled in Snape’s silky baritone voice.

-ooOoo-

Harry awoke to someone bellowing, “BOY!” and light streaming into his cupboard as the door was yanked open.

He blinked owlishly up at Vernon as the man grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the confined space. “U-Uncle Vernon!” He cried as his aching hand flared up with pain as it collided with the doorframe.

“What did I tell you about waking up my family?!” Vernon roared, his cheeks tinging a light violet in his anger.

“I’m sorry, Uncle!” Harry cried, holding his arms up to shield his face as Vernon tossed him against the foot of the stairs.

“Stupid boy! You’re a burden on my family, you worthless little freak!” Vernon snarled, cuffing Harry on the back of his head.

Harry scrambled after his glasses as they were knocked off the bridge of his nose. Vernon took the opportunity to grab him by the collar of his shirt and haul him through the kitchen and over to the back door. “Until you can learn to keep quiet, you’ll be staying out here!”

The whale of a man opened the door and promptly shoved Harry out into the darkness. Harry cried out in pain as he stumbled and fell, trapping his bad hand beneath him and hitting the ground with a nauseating crack. The Gryffindor yelped as he looked down to see his pinky twisted the wrong way, lying practically horizontal to the rest of his fingers.

Vernon smiled smugly, as if entertained by Harry’s pain. “I’ll let you in when it’s time for you to fix breakfast.” The door slammed loudly, and Harry found himself sprawled out on the Dursley’s patio, left hand ripped open and left hand pinky badly broken.

The fourteen year old felt tears of pain well up behind his eyes, and without another thought, he scrambled to his feet, turned, and began to run. Feet pounding on the asphalt, Harry ran blindly, not caring where he was going.

When he finally stopped, he was gasping for air, standing under a street light in the middle of the road. The Gryffindor slowly regained his breath, and when he did, he blinked and looked up. He blinked again, jade eyes widening slightly.

He had no clue where he was. Harry was hopelessly lost. Oh, Merlin, was he in trouble now…