There was a knock at the door. Finally, Snape had come but Harry didn't feel like seeing him anymore. He didn't feel like arguing with him, trying to force him to understand the truth. For the first time since becoming blind, he didn't want to anyone’s company. He wanted to stay under his blankets and nurse his anger. There was no chance of his childhood memories coming back to haunt him today. His anger had completely taken over his mind, anger at Malfoy for blinding him and at Snape for not believing him. Harry thought that they had become close. Then why did Snape suddenly pick Malfoy over him? Didn't Harry deserve to be treated as an equal for once in his life?

The knock sounded again but Harry only squeezed his eyes tighter and pulled his blanket over his head. Don't come in. If you like Malfoy so much, why don't you go and bother him. Harry damned well didn't want him here. Harry was self sufficient. He didn't depend on any grownup to come to his rescue and he certainly never wanted to be read to as if he was some kind of little kid.

"Mr. Potter." And it damned well didn't bother him that Snape didn't use his name much either. Nope. He can call Harry bloomslang skin for all he cared.

"Mr. Potter, I am fully aware that you are awake. I merely wish to talk to you." And what was there to talk about? Snape had been perfectly clear last night when he called Harry a liar. Obviously, he didn't trust him at all. Oh, why the hell can't Snape leave him alone. Harry listened for the sound of retreating footsteps but all he heard was Hedwig, softly nibbling on his owl treats. From time to time she would flutter her wings, as if trying to test their strength. The iron cage rattled under the beat of her powerful wings.

"I shall choose to interpret your silence as an invitation to enter." The door opened with a soft creak and Snape was suddenly there, standing over Harry. He could picture Snape's figure looming in front of him, dark and imposing.

"Ever heard of privacy?" Harry mumbled into his blankets. A lack of privacy was one of the biggest downsides of the wizarding world. Every locked door could be unlocked with a mumbled Alohomora. Unless one was powerful enough to know the best protection spells, privacy around here was virtually nonexistent.

"I see that you still retain your anger." Snape stated calmly, ignoring Harry's irritation and his wish to be left alone. Somehow, his calm tone pissed Harry off even more. He's trying to act as if what happened last night was no big deal. Well, it definitely was a big deal to Harry.

"And whose fault is that? You basically called me a liar!" Harry yelled, throwing his blankets off him. Startled, Hedwig gave a loud hoot and flapped his wings hurriedly.

"Well, you did accuse my godson of poisoning you." Snape's voice had an edge to it now, as if he was trying to control his voice, keep it low and even. His words were slow as if every syllable had to be filtered of the emotions that weighed them down.

"Well guess what, Snape? Your godson is an idiot!"

"Enough, Mr. Potter. I will not allow you to speak of Draco in such a way." Snape hissed. His voice had become dangerously quiet. Harry didn't really think that Snape would harm him, not anymore but he'd probably still find some way to make Harry's life miserable. With an audible snap, Harry clamped his mouth shut.

"I have not come here to discuss Draco. Your condition is what I wish to discuss."

"Why don't you go talk to Malfoy? He can tell you all about it."

"Potter!"

"No, I'm not going to just sit here and listen to you ignore the truth. Draco Malfoy poisoned me. Why can't you understand that?" There was a heartbeat of silence, even Hedwig had calmed down as if listening intently to their conversation. Harry heard Snape take a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down. He was obviously flustered. He couldn't stand to hear the truth about the perfect Slytherin Prince.

"Because, Potter, I have known Draco all his life. I have watched him grow up to be the boy he is today and I can state with certainty that he would never commit such a crime. He would never cripple a fellow student." Harry jawed dropped. What was Snape talking about? Was he really that blind or was this some kind of scheme to trick Harry.

"Malfoy is twisted and cruel. Surely, you know that! You've seen what he was like back in school."

"I am not as blind as you think me, Mr. Potter. I am well aware that my godson is not perfect. He is spoiled and arrogant. He takes pleasure in belittling others and he thinks entirely too much of his parents to the point of idolizing them. He cannot stand for anyone else to be better than him in anything, being of an exceedingly jealous nature."

"He really does sound charming, professor."

"However, he is capable of compassion." Harry scoffed in disbelief. The idea that Malfoy could ever think of anyone but himself was simply too ridiculous. He didn't care how many people he had to trample on as long as he got what he wanted. Typical Slytherin. As soon as the thought entered his mind, Harry flushed guiltily. Sometimes, he forgot that the man he was slowly coming to care for was also a Slytherin. He belonged to the same house as Voldemort and the Malfoys.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. You may not choose to believe me but it doesn't make it any less true. Once, when young Draco was in a park, a little girl broke her ankle. Her parents were nowhere in sight. She was a muggle and therefore, in Draco's eyes, inferior to him and yet when he saw that the girl was truly in pain, he carried her on his back. He left her with her parents, on the very doorstep of her house." Harry's eyes were as wide as saucers. Somehow, he couldn't imagine the Slytherin prince giving a piggy back ride to a little girl.

"What I am trying to say is that however much he does not like you, Draco is not capable of standing by while watching you truly suffer." Harry sighed. He didn't know how to respond to that. Snape truly did believe that Malfoy was good. How do you change such a strong opinion? How can Harry make him see that he's wrong, that the image of the kind hearted boy in his mind was not the real Draco? It was only a figment of his imagination, a person he had created in his mind because he couldn't face the real truth. Harry flopped back onto the bed. The springs creaked, making him bounce up and down. Harry rubbed his face with his hands. Even though he hated to admit it, Harry was scared. What if Snape never believed him? Then how could Snape find the cure, how could Harry get his sight back? Harry felt the left side of the bed dip forward as Snape sat gingerly on the mattress. He seemed to be waiting for something, maybe for Harry to say that he was sorry and that it was all a lie. Well, that was never going to happen.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

"Do you trust me?" A dead silence greeted his words. The very air crackled with tension as Harry waited, with baited breath, for the answer. He hated this. The fact that Snape had to pause and think. His silence felt like a betrayal of the fragile friendship they had managed to create. The answer, when it finally came, was less than satisfactory.

"In some ways I do." Snape whispered as if afraid that his words would carry too far.

"What kind of an answer is that?" Harry tried to filter his voice but he was unsuccessful. The hurt poured out of his words, a proof of his fragility.

"It is the only answer I am willing to give. Trust is never absolute, it depends on various factors. For example, I can never trust you to follow my rules. Sooner or later, you will always find a way to break them." Harry had to admit that Snape might have a point in that.

"Okay then, do you trust that I’m not a liar? Do you trust that I would never frame someone for something that they didn't do, even if I didn't like this person?" The silence again. Harry had the urge to tap his fingers on the wall just to have a sound to hold onto.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Before today, I did not think you capable of such a deception." Well, at least that was something. "However, now I am faced with a choice. Either way I will have to go against my preconceived beliefs. Either you are capable of falsely incriminating someone or Draco is capable of crippling someone."

"It seems to me that you've made your choice last night when you branded me a liar."

"It was a natural reaction, Mr. Potter. I have known Draco much longer than you. I am inclined to believe in him first." In other words, Harry was once again the person standing in the corner, overshadowed and dismissed. He had understood that last night but hearing those words come out of Snape's mouth was even worse. It was the final confirmation. Something of his feelings must've shown on Harry's face because he suddenly felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harry should shrug it off and move away but instead, he just inched closer to Snape, wanting to be acknowledged. How pathetic could he get?

"I didn't lie, sir. I was not trying to get Malfoy in trouble. He really did tell me that he blinded me. He boasted about it, about how you would let him get away with anything. He's more important to you, after all. I guess he was right." Snape sighed. His hand was still on Harry's shoulder. He could feel its weight resting there, like an anchor that Harry had the sudden urge to cling to and never let go.

"Perhaps Draco merely said that to upset you and not because it had any reference to the truth. He does derive a childish pleasure from angering people." Harry knew that this was crap. Snape was just trying to find a middle ground, unwilling to let go of both his beliefs. He made up the only explanation that would let him keep the image he had of a partially good Draco. Harry should tell him that he's being an idiot. He should tell him that they both know that he's just pretending, finding a coward's way out. Instead, Harry mumbles a quick maybe and buries himself further into his pillow. He was tired of arguing with Snape, tired of fighting to be treated as an equal. He had given up, wanting things to go back to the way they were. Maybe Harry was the coward here.

"Anyway, I have some news that might take your mind off Draco and his thoughtless words." Harry didn't respond. He doubted that anything could take his mind off Malfoy right now. "I have been yearning to tell you this since last night but perhaps it is best that I waited till morning." Snape paused, probably waiting for Harry's reaction but Harry didn't say anything. The anger had turned into a tired resignation but it was still there in the pit if his stomach, refusing to move.

"Are you even listening, Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah." Harry mumbled halfheartedly.

"I have the cure." Snape's words seemed to drift past him like paper boats floating downstream. Harry blinked dimly, trying to understand what Snape was getting at. The words were too abrupt, too unrelated to what Harry was feeling.

"What?"

"Here, in my hand, I have the cure for your blindness." This time, the words did sink in, slowly like a balloon expanding with air. Harry sat up on the bed and turned his head in Snape's direction. The cure. Snape found the cure. How is that even possible? He didn't even know that Malfoy was responsible for his blindness. How could he find the cure? Was Snape trying to mess with Harry's mind?

"But... But how." He stuttered, not daring to believe that Snape's words were true and yet, hope flared up inside him. The cure. He would be healed. He would be able to see again. Is this for real?

"I brewed it last night, Mr. Potter. I found the potion vial that had been used to poison you. With it, I managed to concoct an antidote. Fortunately, even though the brewing process was complicated and required great skill to execute, not much time was required." Harry sat up and suddenly felt around with his hand. Snape, as if sensing his intentions, pressed the antidote into his fingers. Harry gripped the ice cold vial, feeling the heat seep out of his fingers. He could hear the liquid inside it sloshing around, almost alive and sentient. Dear Merlin, this is it! This is the cure! This is what he's been waiting for.

"Well, do you not have anything to say?" Snape sounded pleased with himself, as if content with Harry's dumbstruck joy.

"I... I don't know what to say. I can’t believe this is real. Is this really the cure? Will I really be able to see again?"

"Certainly, Mr. Potter, as soon as you take the potion." Harry fumbled with the vial, ready to open it and gulp down the contents but Snape snatched it away from him.

"Not so fast, Mr. Potter. First, you must understand that there will be side effects to this potion. Nothing harmful, but you may experience some strange effects while under its influence."

"As long as I can see again, I'll put up with almost anything." Harry could hardly contain his excitement. It had seemed a lifetime ago since he saw the world around him. The blue sky over his head, the pictures of his smiling parents in his photo album, Snape's masked face, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter and yes, Harry would even like to see this gloomy house again with its endless array of doors and grey wallpaper.

"Very well, then. Lie down and attempt to make yourself as comfortable as possible. It will take some time for the antidote to clear the poison in your veins."

------- HP -------

The potion was cold. At first, Harry thought that he was drinking ice water and yet, the sensation was more peculiar. As the antidote passed through his open mouth, it seemed to freeze every tissue of his body. Harry groaned as the cold turned into an acute burning sensation. He heard Snape utter a few comforting words but they seemed to come from a long distance away. With an increased sense of panic, Harry felt all his senses dim, as if the world was moving away, leaving him behind. He no longer felt the mattress holding him up. He no longer even felt the cold of the potion. He stopped hearing any sounds. He was suddenly in a vast blackness, sensing nothing. Was this what it felt like to die, slowly losing all perception of reality like a song fading to its ending? Harry tried to catch Snape’s voice, or even feel the steady movement of his lungs but he didn’t feel it. He had left his body behind.

The beginnings of terror were starting to appear. Even though he could no longer sense, he could think. Thoughts of death and pain and getting lost in this empty world were twirling inside his mind, moving faster and faster. Harry tried to sense something, anything but it was no use. It felt like hours afterwards that he saw it. A tiny pinprick of light in the far distance, like a light at the end of a tunnel. Harry focused on the light, willing it to come closer but it didn’t. Instead, the spot of light shivered and with a plop separated itself into two. One was an iridescent white while the other was a bright red. As Harry watched, mesmerized despite his fear. The spots of light multiplied faster and faster. Soon he could see pins of light all around him like fireworks spinning in the sky. They were beautiful, dancing all around him. Emerald green, bright purple, neon pink, sunny yellow and hundreds of others. Harry watched mesmerized, as the spots started to move. They were getting bigger, coming closer and closer to Harry. They were inflating like balloons. Soon the spots merged together to form bubbles of a strange mix of colors. They were getting bigger and bigger. Soon there was only one bubble coming straight at Harry. Then, just as it was about to touch him, it burst open and bright rays of light hit Harry’s eyes with such force, he yelled.

He was still yelling when he returned back to his body. Suddenly, all sensations came to him at once. He could hear Hedwig hooting worriedly in the background. He could feel the bedsheets tangled beneath him. He was no longer lying in bed but he was sitting up. Warm hands were around him and a familiar voice was telling him that it was going to be okay.

“Open your eyes, child.” Snape’s familiar voice whispered into his left ear. Slowly, Harry allowed his eyes to flutter open. At first it was too bright and he had to snap them shut. He tried again and this time, after blinking a few times, he managed to keep them open. The first thing he saw was Snape’s face, close to his. His eyebrows were drawn together and he was frowning down on Harry, concern written plainly in every feature. Harry had forgotten how pale he looked, like fresh parchment. His hair hung around his face. It had grown longer, flowing onto his shoulders. It was so nice to see him again.

Dear Merlin, Harry could see again! He could actually see. Snape did it! He found the cure! Harry opened his mouth and laughed. He felt so light and free. He had never felt so alive. He spun his head, taking in all the sights around him. The dull grey wallpaper, his trunk lying half open on the floor. Hedwig, his dear Hedwig was perched on his cage. His head was cocked to the side and his yellow eyes were wide open, observing Harry. Had his feathers always been so white, like untainted snow? Harry laughed again, feeling lightheaded. His broomstick was sitting on one corner of the room, its handle gleaming with polish. Nimbus 2000, the gold letters announced proudly. Not a single twig was out of place.

“By your reaction, I take it that your sight has been returned.” Snape asked. Harry didn’t answer. He was too busy looking, testing out his new found sight. This was not enough. He needed more. He needed to see the blue sky and the grass swaying back and forth. He needed to see flowers and leaves flapping in the wind. He wanted to see everything. Harry suddenly jumped down from the bed and snatched up his Nimbus 2000.

“Come on, Professor! We’re playing Quidditch.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a confused looking Snape’s arm and ran down the stairs and out the front door.

-------- HP --------

Harry quickly gobbled up a few chocolate chip cookies. What a day! He was famished and exhausted. Two straight hours of playing Quidditch followed by a long walk to the nearest town. They had a great time! Although Snape did look a little worn out. By the end of it all, he was calling Harry all sorts of names and grumbling about overactive Gryffindor twits. Harry just couldn’t keep still. In the past week, he had spent so much time in bed. When he was blind, it was impossible to walk at a normal pace without bumping into something or tripping over trunks and carpets. But now, he’s free again. Free to jump and run and look. It’s like all the energy that had gone wasted last week has come rushing back to him.

Harry went over to his trunk and rummaged through the contents. It still seemed amazing, how he could finally see the objects inside. No more groping around in the dark. No more trying to imagine where things would be. Nope. Now he could see everything again. There was Hermione’s study planner, it’s untouched cover glossy and the pages neat. There were the Quidditch figurines he bought from Diagon Alley. They grinned up at him like old friends, waving their arms cheerfully. A miniature snitch was circling around the seeker’s head. Harry could see it flutter its minuscule wings, flying just out of the seeker’s reach. It was taunting him, daring him to come and play. Harry grinned at them all before putting them aside. He had come for a pack of playing cards. Harry was going to teach Snape how to play House Wars, a game the twins had taught him. But he had to be quick. Snape had started to grumble about potions brewing and quiet reading time. If Harry didn’t go soon, he had a feeling that Snape would vanish again, retreating back to the quiet of his potion’s lab. Harry was enjoying his company too much to let him go just yet. He’d keep Snape to himself before Malfoy comes and ruins everything again. Mercifully, Malfoy had been nowhere in sight today.

Harry bounded down the stairs two at a time. The pack of card was held tightly in one hand. The glossy cards threatened to slip out of his grip and scatter all over the floor but Harry held onto them tightly. Harry felt like dancing and laughing. He was so damn happy. Snape did it, he gave Harry his sight back. It gave him a warm fuzzy feeling to know that he was being protected by an adult for once in his life. Snape was there for him, he was the family Harry had always dreamed about.

Harry ran down the corridor, the black doors sailing past him in a blur. Snape said he would be waiting in the floo room with pumpkin juice and a plate of chocolate cakes. He was probably there right now, grumbling to himself about little brats and their need for excessive sugar. Harry chuckled to himself as he came to a halt in front of the door at the end of the corridor. It was slightly ajar, strips of pale yellow light oozing out of it. Harry could hear movement within the room, a soft rustling of a cloak and the pad of feet muffled by a thick carpet. Oh good, Snape was already here. This time Harry was determined to beat him at House Wars. It will be payback after the time Snape flattened him at Liar.

Harry put his hand on the cold wood and pushed. The door floated open silently displaying the now familiar floo room. The large fireplace was alive, soft orange flames flickering, shifting the shadows all over the room. The two armchairs sat empty in front of the fireplace and between them, there was an ornate black stool. A silver plate was sitting there patiently. It was filled to the brim with dark brown and soft yellow cakes. They were coated with chocolate and filled with jam.

Harry frowned, looking at the empty chairs. Where was Snape? Harry looked around the room and spotted a figure standing in the far corner, hidden by the shadows. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the room. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

“Come on, professor! It’s time to play House Wars and this time, I’m going to win!” Harry slumped down into the orange armchair and squirmed around, making himself comfortable. The figure moved forwards and the bright orange light fell right on his face. It illuminated long silver hair and a beard that fell down to his waist. Harry blinked, completely confused.

“Professor Dumbledore! What are you doing here?” The headmaster smiled and sat down on the chair opposite Harry. He looked tired and older than Harry had ever seen him. His shoulders were slumped and the twinkle was absent from his eyes. Wisps of thin hair floated around his head, framing a face wrinkled with worry and sadness. Something was wrong. Harry could read it in every inch of his face. Something bad has happened. Harry gulped and tried to ready himself for whatever bad news was about to be delivered.

“Ah, Harry. I see that you have your sight back.” Dumbledore commented, watching Harry with his bright blue eyes.

“Yeah, Professor Snape fixed me.” Was Snape in trouble? Was that why Dumbledore was here, to confront him? No. That can’t be right. Snape cured him. Surely, now Dumbledore knows that Snape did not curse Harry. He was the one who made everything better. Now the headmaster must believe that. Maybe he was here to apologize to Snape. Yeah, that’s it. Harry had nothing to worry about. Dumbledore was just here to tell Snape what an idiot he has been, how he was wrong all along not to trust him.

“Yes, Severus did tell me about that. Apparently he found the potion and made you the antidote.” Something about the headmaster’s tone irked Harry and set him on his guard again.

“Where is Professor Snape?” He asked. There was a moment of silence as the room absorbed his question. The logs in the hearth crackled and hissed as they burned. Tiny yellow sparks shot out of them like fireworks.

“You are not supposed to be here, Harry.” Dumbledore stated solemnly, ignoring Harry’s question. “I sent you back to the burrow to stay with the Weasleys until term starts.”

“Well, I came back.” Harry snapped angrily. He was not some package to be shipped from one place to the next. “I wanted to stay with my guardian.” Dumbledore sighed tired.

“I’m afraid that is not possible, Harry. You can’t stay with Severus anymore. It is not a safe place for you and I made a mistake sending you here.” What the hell was this man talking about? Snape cured him! He is one of the only people Harry actually feels safe around. Dumbledore can’t do this. He can’t just take Harry away.

“You see, Harry, when I sent you here, I placed dozens of protective spells to keep you from harm. I did not think that Severus would ever know how to bypass my spells but apparently, I was wrong. I underestimated his abilities and he managed to curse you.” Harry was completely speechless. What the hell is wrong with this man!

“Now, it is evident that spells aren’t enough to protect you. You must leave this place, Harry, and never come back.” Breathe, Harry. Breathe. Don’t lose control. Yelling and screaming won’t solve anything. Harry’s heart was beating faster and faster. He could feel it thudding against his ribcage like a monster trying to escape. Anger was beating against his skull, red hot and undeniable. How dare this man do this to him? All his life, Harry has yearned for a family. And now that he finally had a home and a guardian who cared about him, this idiot was sitting here calmly, ripping it all away from him. Calm down. Don’t yell at him, reason with him. Force him to see the truth.

“Snape cured me. Why would he cure me if he was the one to curse me?”

“Because I forced his hand. I shut him up at Healer’s Touch and he escaped but he couldn’t escape me forever. The only way he could have his freedom back is to cure you, Harry. He told me that he found the poison and made the antidote but that was a lie. He already had the poison so making the antidote was child’s play for a talented potion master like him.” He believed that. Dumbledore truly believed that and nothing Harry could say could persuade him otherwise. Harry could see the stubborn look in his eyes, the conviction that he was always right no matter what anybody else said. Harry looked away, completely disgusted.

He stared at the two glasses of pumpkin juice standing tall beside the tray of cakes. The juice was getting warm. Drops of water had formed around the cold glass. They slipped slowly down the sides and formed a small pool at the base. Snape had been there moments before. He had set up the cakes and the pumpkin juice, waiting for Harry to come down. But instead of Harry, Dumbledore had come out of the fireplace, spewing accusations into his face. Harry could imagine how much that hurt Snape. Despite everything, Snape cared for Dumbledore and hearing all his spiteful words must’ve stung. Harry could picture Snape standing there, silently taking it all in, trying his best to mask his expression, to not let Dumbledore see how much his words could affect him. Harry’s hands balled into fists. He hated him. He hated Dumbledore. Snape was a good person. Why can’t Dumbledore see that?

“Well, I have to go now, Harry. You can stay here today but tomorrow, I’ll send Mr. Weasley to take you back to the Burrow.” Dumbledore stood up, his purple robes rustling like old parchment.

“No. I will not leave.” Harry stated through clenched teeth.
“Snape cares for me. He will not let me go without a fight.” Harry hoped to God that that was true. He couldn’t fight Dumbledore on his own.

“I’m afraid that he has no choice in the matter, Harry. He will take a Blood Oath declaring that he will never take you to live with him again.” Harry’s blood ran cold. Hermione had told him about Blood Oaths. They were like the Unbreakable Vow but with a few slight differences. Magic prevents a Blood Oath from being broken. If Harry tried to go to Snape after this oath, magic would instantly whisk him away again, preventing the oath from being broken. The only person who could break it was someone with greater magical power than the caster. Since no one was more powerful than Dumbledore, it means that Harry will be doomed. He will lose the only family he has.

“No.” Harry whispered, his voice thin and fragile like a single spider web waving in the wind. “He won’t do that. Snape will never take that Oath. He won’t do that to me.”
“Well, for now Severus is resisting. He is being stubborn and he says that he will never agree to a Blood Oath.” A ray of hope surged through Harry. So Snape really was going to fight for him. He will not give up.

“But it is only a matter of time.” Dumbledore rubbed his eyes tiredly. He looked like a man forcing himself to do something unpleasant. “But I know how to change his mind.” A chill went down Harry’s spine.

“What are you going to do to him?”

“I admit it’s not going to be pleasant. This is going to be hard on both of us but he has left me no choice. He must be made to see that what he is doing is wrong. He is trying to keep you, hoping that one day he will get the chance for revenge. I must force him to see how twisted and dark that is.” Dumbledore was not looking at Harry. He was staring at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. “He is not going to like it but the Visionara is the only way.” Suddenly, Dumbledore shook his head determinedly and straightened his shoulders. He gave Harry a smile and before Harry could reply, he was already throwing a handful of floo powder into the flames.

“Wait, you can’t…” The flames shifted to emerald green and Dumbledore stepped into the middle of the hearth.

“Healer’s Touch.” He called out and seconds later, he was gone. The flames shifted back to orange and Harry was left staring at an empty fireplace.

Panic. The feeling flooded him suddenly. What was Dumbledore going to do to Snape? He was going to hurt him. Snape must be locked up at Healer’s Touch, pacing the room like a caged animal waiting for Dumbledore to attack him. Whatever it is, whatever could force Snape to change his mind must be pretty bad.

Harry can’t just stand here. He must do something. It was because of him that Snape got into this situation in the first place. He must help but how. Harry started pacing the room frantically trying to think but his mind was a jumble of panicked thoughts. Try as he might, he couldn’t untangle them. Oh God. It was in times like these that he missed his friends the most. Hermione would surely know what to do.

Come on, Harry. Think. Think. What can he do to free, Snape?
He can go to Healer’s Touch but then what? He can’t fight Dumbledore. Maybe he could ask Professor Sprout’s help and together, they could go and get Snape. No. That won’t do. Professor Sprout was nowhere near powerful enough to fight Dumbledore. But that’s the trouble. No one could fight Dumbledore! Fighting is not the way. Then what? Convince Dumbledore that he was wrong but Harry had tried to do that and he had failed. If only there was some definite, undisputable proof that Snape didn’t poison Harry! Harry stopped dead in the middle of the room. That was it. Malfoy was the real culprit. If he confessed, then Snape would be saved. Malfoy was the only way. Without pausing to think it through, Harry whipped out his wand and jabbed it directly in front of him.

“Point me Draco Malfoy.” He yelled.

------ SS ------

Severus shut his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to be calm. He had to stop his emotions from taking over. No matter what happens, he will not beg, not this time. The Visionara might take away his sanity but it sure as hell will not take away his dignity too. It has been over five years since he last tasted that bitter potion but he still remembered its effects as if it was yesterday. He remembered how the visions had creeped into his mind, dragging him under. It was like sinking into a pensieve but it was worse, much worse. In a pensieve, one was merely the spectator of a memory long past but with these visions you had to participate. It was like being spiraled down into your worst nightmare with no way to escape. The Visionara was vicious. It sank into the drinker's mind and discovered all the crimes he has ever committed. No occlumency shields were a match for the Visionara. It took the crimes and used them to torture the drinker. Severus sat back in his armchair thinking back on the first time he had been given the Visionara.

--------

Severus was slumped in a ridiculously purple armchair by the fire. In his hand, he held the small ornate vial Dumbledore has just handed him. It was oddly beautiful. A design of mermaids was painted on it and they swum around the glass, their expressions sad and soulful. This was it. This was his punishment. He had come back to Healer’s Touch, sick of himself and what he had done, fully expecting Dumbledore to throw him to the dementors but no. Professor Dumbledore was bent on sparing him from Azkaban, on giving him a second chance. Instead of spending years rotting away in Azkaban, he simply had to drink this little potion and everything will be over. So simple. Almost too simple.

Severus stared at the transparent liquid laying still as water within the vial. He could feel Dumbledore watching him from the opposite chair, his piercing blue eyes waiting patiently. What effect will this potion have? Will it be painful? Maybe it is some kind of modern method of torture. Perhaps it will show visions where he is tied up and being tortured. Well, it wouldn’t be any more than he deserved. After all, that’s why he came here, to be punished.

It is strange. Severus had imagined that when the moment had come, he would be a little more frightened. The fact was that he was calm, even strangely relieved. The thought of torture was… welcome. Pain, that is something he knew how to deal with. It was much easier than the constant guilt clawing at his insides like a hungry beast that will never leave him alone. Maybe if he was punished and tortured, his crimes would not haunt him every moment of every day. Maybe it will even atone for… No. Severus was being ridiculous. Nothing an ever atone for what he did. Nothing. He deserves the guilt, he deserved the nightmares, he deserved every bad thing that could possibly happen to him. Sighing, Severus placed the potion on his lips and swallowed it in one gulp. He barely noticed the burning sensation as it went down his throat.

Severus closed his eyes and waited for the pain to start. He waited for a minute, then two but nothing happened. There was no pain, no fear, no visions, nothing but his heart beating frantically in its ribcage. Was there something else he was supposed to do? Did Dumbledore give him the wrong potion? Severus was just about to open his eyes and tell Dumbledore that there has been some mistake when he felt someone insistently tugging on his robes. Severus’s eyes snapped open.

To his extreme surprise and confusion, he saw a little girl standing to his right. She was trying to get his attention by tugging on his sleeve. Where did this girl come from? Had the potion somehow transported him into a different location. That theory was soon discarded when Severus looked around him. He was still in the same room at Healer’s Touch. The disgustingly cheerful walls covered with white daisies surrounded him on all sides. The fire continued to crackle on the hearth but the flames had dimmed, leaving the room in semi darkness. The headmaster was nowhere to be found. The blue armchair he had occupied only seconds before was empty.

“Will you come play with me?” The little girl’s voice broke through his thoughts. She was still tugging at his sleeves insistently, demanding to be heard. Maybe she was a relative of Dumbledore’s, someone who was staying at the manor for the time being. Severus couldn’t see much of her face. It was covered by shifting shadows. But by the sound of her voice and her stature, Severus guessed that the girl was around six or seven years old. She had strawberry blond hair that was tied back into a ponytail. She was wearing a short white dress with large pockets that were bulging with various items. Leaves and withering flowers stuck out of it messily, staining her dress with sap and nectar.

“I’m afraid that I do not know any games.” Severus stated uncomfortably, trying not to sound too intimidating. Children were generally afraid of him. They took one look at him and ran, but strangely, this girl didn’t seem to be afraid. In fact, she was smiling. Severus narrowed his eyes at the girl. There was something oddly familiar about her, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“That’s alright.” The girl reached out a hand and patted Severus on the knee as if trying to comfort him. The hand was chubby and covered in glitter. Her fingernails had splashes of color on them as if she has just finished painting a particularly messy picture. “We can play with Emily.”

“And who might Emily be?” A cloth doll dressed in a frilly pink skirt was gently placed on his lap. Severus looked at it. He was at a complete loss of what to do. He most certainly did not know how to entertain little girls. This was turning out to be a very strange evening. He wished Dumbledore would return and take this girl back to wherever she came from. “Ah, I see. I would certainly like to play with you and Emily but I am afraid that I am rather busy at the moment.”

“But… but I want to play with you.” The girl whined pitifully. Her shoulders slumped and her face fell as if Severus had just given her the most devastating news. Children. Why were they always so ruddy dramatic? Every little thing had them bawling like maniacs.

“Perhaps another time.” It took a moment for Severus to realize that the girl was actually crying. Silent tears slipped from her face and plopped onto the floor. Her chest rose and fell as she tried valiantly to suppress her sobs.

“Now, that is hardly necessary.” Severus tried to sound soothing. Despite his general dislike of children, he was moved by this little girl’s tears. She sounded genuinely distressed and not just throwing a loud tantrum. “I am quite sure that Professor Dumbledore will be more than happy to play with you when he does return.”

“Please, sir.” The girl’s voice wobbled. She came closer and to his consternation, she put his arms around his waist. Severus opened his mouth but nothing came out. He was being hugged at Healer’s Touch by a little girl he has never seen before. What was he going to do? He considered shouting for Dumbeldore but he didn’t want to startle the child. “Please play with me. I… I had a very bad nightmare and I can’t go back to sleep.” The girl hiccoughed, her ponytail bobbing up and down. Well, that explains why the child was so upset but Severus still had no idea what to do. How does one comfort a little girl? He did not much experience with children, especially with children who weren’t frightened of him. The only child he had taken care of was his godson, little Draco. What would he do if Draco was the one tugging on his sleeve, crying after a nightmare. Well, he would pick him up and nestle him on the crook of his arm. He would listen to Draco babble on while patting his back, comfortingly telling the little tyke that everything will be alright. But Draco was much smaller than this girl and Severus knew him. He knew what to say to make everything alright. He knew how to rock him so that he’ll fall asleep in Severus’ arms. Will the same method work on this girl? The girl’s sobbing was getting rather loud and pitiful. He had to do something until Dumbledore came back.

“Alright then, I shall consent to play with Emily.” The girl nodded but she still looked upset. Severus looked at the doll on his lap. It stared back at him with its button eyes and smiling mouth. Well, what now? What was he supposed to do with this bundle of rags? Feeling like a daft idiot, Severus took its gloved hand and shook it politely.

“How do you do?” He asked the hideous thing. To Severus’ immense relief, the little girl smiled again and patted his knee. Her shoulders were still shaking but at least she seemed a little happier.

“Well, she seems a little reluctant to talk but otherwise Emily and I are getting along just fine.” Severus stated. The child nodded solemnly and reached over to stroke the doll’s thick mane of black hair. She leaned closer to Severus and conspiratorially started to whisper into his ear.

“She’s like me, you know.” She stated. Severus raised an eyebrow and turned around to look at her but strangely, even though she was so close, her face was still covered by a flickering black shadow. Severus got that impression again, that he had seen her somewhere before, that she was somehow important even though he didn’t really know why.

“You see, Emily can’t walk either, just like me.” It was only then that Severus looked down and realized that the girl was sitting on a wheelchair. “Me and Emily had an accident you see. A bad man pointed his wand at us and then, we couldn’t walk anymore.” Severus took in a shaky breath. This poor girl had been exposed to dark magic and Severus even knew what curse had been used. The Duratus Membra, a spell that couldn’t be reversed. Severus gulped and he felt as if a stone had lodged itself in his throat.

“H…he came back last n…night.” The girl was starting to shiver now as if a deep chill had settled into her bones, unwilling to let her go. “H… he was in my nightmare. He wanted to hurt me.” The girl sounded so distressed that
Severus didn’t even think before reaching out towards her. He picked her up easily as her body was surprisingly light. Gently, he placed her on his lap, making sure that he didn’t startle the trembling child. She was so tiny. Maybe Severus had been wrong. Maybe she was even younger than he thought but there was something so solemn and sad in her voice that made her sound mature. It was only to be expected, Severus thought sadly. This girl had lost her childhood the day a monster had taken away her ability to walk, a monster like him. Severus took a deep breath. He felt the guilt like a physical pain.

The girl seemed to like being placed on his lap. She made herself comfortable, lacing her hands around his neck and buried her face on his shoulder. Emily was squashed between them, momentarily forgotten. Thankfully, the child’s trembling began to subside but Severus could feel the tears falling on his shoulder, soaking his robes. The poor girl.

My God, what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to comfort her for the atrocious thing that had been done to her? The child was holding onto him with so much trust and innocence, it made his heart ache. If only the girl knew who she was holding, if only she knew what a dark heart he possessed then she would recoil from him. She would run away screaming. Severus sighed and patted her back softly. He rocked her a little like he was used to doing to Draco when he needed to be soothed. Miraculously, he felt the girl calm down, her breathing evening out until she was resting peacefully, her cheek on his shoulder. One hand began to play with his hair absentmindedly but he didn’t mind. As long as she was calm. Severus took another peek at her face but once again he didn’t see much, only the outline of thin lips and a button nose. Who was she? He wondered thoughtfully. He didn’t know that Dumbledore had any relatives, specially not a child this age.

“What is your name, child?” Severus asked, wincing as the child tugged on his hair a little too forcefully.

“Sirena.” She whispered, smiling up at him. An unusual name but he must admit, it was rather charming. He wondered if he should put the child back on her wheelchair now, but when he tried to extricate himself, the child grumbled and hugged him tighter. Well, that was that for the moment. He must admit it was rather nice having someone trust him so completely. The best he could hope out of most people was to be ignored. Apart from his rather acerbic personality, his appearance as a walking corpse, generally guaranteed that no one came within a mile of him. But this little girl, for some reason, was not put off by his appearance. She was trusting and sweet, letting herself be comforted by him. It was rather endearing actually. These last few weeks he had been high strung, his mind and body filled with tension and worry. But right now, with this innocent little tyke in his arms, he felt more peaceful than he had in long time.
He patted her arm fondly, not minding that Dumbledore had still not returned. The girl smiled again and asked Severus to pick something up from her wheelchair. It was a miniature pink suitcase and through its plastic window, Severus could see little cups and plates decorated with pink flowers.

Before long Severus, Sirena and Emily were busy having a tea party. The child positively refused to get down from his lap but he didn’t mind. Her presence was a comfort and she was rapidly growing on him. Perhaps he might volunteer to babysit her once in a while. The hours passed and there was still no Dumbledore and no mention of the punishment. Severus learned more about Sirena, about how she had wanted to grow up and become a dancer. She had attended ballet classes before the dark curse hit her. Obviously that was no longer an option.

Poor child. It was so unfair, having her future stolen away from her with one simple word. Still, it astonished him how strong this girl was. She had not let her injury define her. She had come up with new dreams and new goals in life. Sirena described in detail her love for all kinds of magical creatures and how she wanted to become an animal healer when she grew up. Severus couldn’t help smiling at her. What a child. He had no doubt that one day she will grow up to be a very talented witch. In a handful of years she will be in Hogwarts and then, Severus will become her teacher and possibly, if the ambition in her voice is any indication, her head of house. Hogwarts will be rather hard for her to manage without the use of her legs but Severus was determined to help her when the time came.

“Do you think I could do it, sir?”

“Do what, child?”

“Become an animal healer when I grow up?” Her voice wobbled uncertainly. She was stroking Emily’s hair absentmindedly, a hint of fear tensing up her slight body.

“Yes, you most certainly can.” Severus replied firmly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you seem like an intelligent and determined girl and there is no doubt that you will find a way to be whoever you want to be.” The girl smiled and leaning closer to Severus, she looked up, meeting his eyes. At that exact moment, the fire flared up violently, causing the room to be bathed in a fierce orange glow. Then, for the first time all evening, Severus could see the girl’s face properly. The shadows disappeared giving him a glimpse of a heart shaped face, pale and filled with freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were a bright sky blue that seemed to blaze with happiness. Severus gasped, his jaw dropping open in complete shock and surprise.

This girl, he knew who this girl was. He had seen her before. Dear Merlin, what is going on here? What was happening? Severus had gone on a death eater hunt last month. They were going to hunt down one of the most sadistic guards from Normengard and they were going to make him pay. A group of five, they had thrown open the front door and rushed into the house, their silver masks gleaming under the moonlight. They had found the man and tortured him first. Death was too good for him. Then, they had all rushed outside and set fire to the house, the man still whimpering inside it. It was only when the fire had taken over the entire house that Severus saw her, the little girl staring out the window of the burning house, her face contorted in agony and terror. She had been banging on the glass, begging for help. In their haste to punish the father, they had not stopped to see if there was anyone else inside the house. None of them even knew about the daughter. It was too late to save her, Severus had watched the girl get eaten up by the fire, slowly melting like candle wax.

That girl had died. He had seen it with his very eyes. Then how was she here sitting on his lap with a big smile on her face? This was the same girl. Severus was sure it was her. Those blue eyes, that round pale face. It was her, it was definitely her. Severus could never forget that face as long as he lived.

“Is something wrong, sir?” The little girl asked innocently. Severus gulped. He didn’t know how to respond. His throat had closed up. Was she simply a relative of the girl who had died? Or was she a ghost or a memory, an imprint of the girl’s spirit left behind in this world. It is only then that the explanation came to him, sudden and shocking. The Visionara. Severus had assumed that it hadn’t worked but what if it had? What if this girl wasn’t real, only a vision induced by the potion? Yes, that was the only explanation. This girl isn’t real. This was nothing but a vision. It wasn’t real. The hopes and dreams that this child babbled on about weren’t real. It is just a vision. Severus told himself again and again in a never ending mantra: she isn’t real.

But that didn’t help him much. He felt his insides freezing as if a cold hand had grabbed his heart, squeezing the life out of it. The guilt had completely taken over. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. This child had died in that fire, the fire that he had cast. He had watched her melt in front of her very eyes. Christ, what had he done? Sirena, was that her real name? Had she really wanted to become an animal healer before she was killed? She had been a girl with hopes and dreams and a bright future, a future that he had stolen from her. Severus didn’t even notice when his body began to shake. The girl was still there on his lap, looking at him with wide blue eyes filled with trust and concern. She was looking at her murderer’s eyes and she didn’t even know it. Oh Christ. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave right now. He wanted to lock himself up in his room and drown in alcohol, trying to forget everything. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face his crimes. It was too much. He was a coward. He always was and always will be.

“What’s wrong, sir? Are you ill?” Little Sirena put her hand on his forehead. Her small fingers were warm against his marble cold skin. Severus could feel her there on his lap, her small body enveloped in his arms. Her mouth was turned down on the corners and her forehead was creased with worry. There were smudges of paint on her skirt and one hand was on her doll’s head, gently stroking her hair.

Christ, oh Christ. No. No. What had he done? This little girl was no more, she had died at his hands. No, he couldn’t do this. It was too much. Severus tried to get up but he found that his body was no longer responding to him. Sirena was now getting really worried. She hugged him tighter and panted a loud kiss on his cheek. Severus groaned. He felt as if a dagger was twisting inside his guts. He tried to close his eyes but he couldn’t. He found with surprise that his body was no longer under his control. So this is what the Visionara did? It forced him to face his crimes. It shattered the barriers that Severus had used to suppress everything that he did. It made him remember and there was no worse punishment than memory, not for someone like him.

Severus stared into little Serena’s face, a face showing nothing but worry and concern. He prayed fervently that that innocent expression would change, that she would see what a monster he was. He wished that she would see his heart and run far away from him. Children and monsters should never mix. And then, almost as if responding to his wish, her face did change. At first her mouth opened in an expression of complete shock. Then, the corners of her mouth twisted and her nose wrinkled. It took Severus a moment to realize that the girl was in pain. She squirmed in his lap, low pitiful moans escaping from her lips.

“Ah! Ah! Stop it, it hurts. What are you doing?” The girl yelled, looking up at him accusingly. Severus was confused, he wasn’t doing anything. He was just sitting, hating himself. But the girl was starting to cry. She was whimpering in pain. Severus felt his heart twist as he watched her face, unable to understand what was going on. Unable to help the girl he had already killed. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he didn’t even try to stop them. What was the point?

“Please, please, it hurts, stop it! You’re burning me.” The girl was screaming now. She tried to jump down from his lap but she couldn’t. Severus’s hands were holding her in place. He tried to move them away, tried to help her escape but he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t respond. With a mounting horror, Severus noticed that his hands, wrapped around the little girl, were glowing a bright orange. Flames were licking at his skin but he didn’t feel any pain. He felt a surge of magic pulsing through his body, he felt the whisper of dark magic in his ear. He realized that his body was casting a spell, a spell that he had used so many times before: fiendfyre. Flames burst out of his hands with a loud hiss and the little girl screamed. She clutched her doll to her chest and squeezed herself into a little ball but it didn’t work. The flames from his hands continued to assault her, turning her skin an angry red. Her white dress caught fire and the girl became frantic. She kicked and screamed and cried but she couldn’t break away from Severus’s grip.

No. No. No. Severus wanted to scream, he wanted to shout.
No, please. Stop this. Stop this. Headmaster please, get me out of this vision. Please, please. Severus could feel her body pressed against his as she screamed and screamed. The smell of burning flesh assaulted his senses. Flames caught onto her hair, dancing onto her sculp. She tried to bat them away with her hands but it was no use. The flames continued to devour her, turning her cloths to ashes and melting her skin. Christ no, this isn’t happening. He can’t… No! Please stop this. He got it. He understood what an evil creature he was. Enough, please. Small fingers latched onto his robes.

Severus could feel her cheek pressed against his chest. Her skin was swelling. She was slowly being roasted alive. Severus felt the sudden urge to laugh hysterically. Merlin, he was going mad.

--------

Severus blinked rapidly, trying to let the memory fade away but it wouldn’t leave. He could still hear her screams inside his mind. For as long as he lived that memory would never leave him. It will remind him of what he was: a criminal who had burned a little girl alive. Severus took a deep shaky breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes shut and tried to regain his composure. He must not appear week. Breath in. One, two, three. Breath out. Nothing will faze him. Nothing will break him. He will remain calm and impassive no matter what will happen.

At long last, the Headmaster returned. And there, gripped tightly in one hand was the potion Severus had feared for years. The Visionara. A clear liquid rested inside the ornate bottle. It didn’t move or shift like most powerful potions. It sat there looking as pure and innocent as water. The sight made Severus’s insides freeze. He tried to school his expression, to put on the mask he had so expertly developed over the years but it was hard. He kept staring at the bottle in the headmaster’s hand. Knowing what was going to happen did not make it any easier. Of course, he could tell the Headmaster where he really found that potion but what will happen then? The Malfoys, the closest friends he had, would get locked up in Azkaban. No, he cannot let that happen. He had betrayed too many people in his life. He will not betray the Malfoys no matter what happens.

“I do not wish to do this, my boy, but you have left me with no other choice.” The Headmaster walked over to sit on the armchair directly opposite Severus. He did not deign to reply to such a statement. He didn’t even look at the headmaster. His eyes were fixed on that clear liquid, swishing so harmlessly around the vial. What will it do this time? What vision will it show? Severus had been given this potion, three more times before and each time he had encountered a different vision. Sometimes he saw the victims crying and reaching out to him for help, sometimes they attacked him, yelling at him and trying to claw his eyes out. It was always different but it always hell. Severus gulped and tried to look away but the vial mesmerized him, like a gigantic wave that he couldn’t help staring at in wonder even though seconds later it would devour him.

Severus sensed the tingle of the headmaster’s wandless magic. The vial rose into the air and with a pop, it opened. It sailed through the air towards him and Severus found himself tipping his head back and opening his mouth, ready for the burning liquid to enter his body. The headmaster had more ways than the imperious curse to subject people to his will, less intrusive but more effective spells. The vial touched his lips and it tipped back slowly. Severus could feel his heart beating against his ribcage, He was scared, he was terrified. He wanted to beg and plead. He wanted to plead his innocence or his guilt, whatever would stop the visions from starting. The liquid moved towards his mouth in a slow crawl. Unable to bare it anymore, Severus snapped his eyes shut. This was it. The liquid touched his lips, burning them. Severus was trembling openly now, the mask had disappeared.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang in the room and the voice of a child screaming. Before Severus knew what was happening, the vial was snatched away from his lips. There was a crash as it landed on the floor, glass scattering everywhere. The clear liquid seeped into the floorboards, disappearing from sight. Severus snapped his eyes open and he found himself staring at a pair of very familiar pale grey eyes.

“Draco!” Severus exclaimed, completely stunned. His godson was standing over him, his face a picture of worry and fear. His chest was rising up and down, breathing hard as if recovering from a race. There were beads of sweat slipping down his face and his normally slicked back hair was sticking out in all directions. Severus stared at him in wonder. He had never seen Draco looking so disheveled. “What could you possibly be doing here, child?”

“Are you okay, uncle? Did you drink any of that potion?” Draco asked hurriedly. He was looking Severus up and down, as if checking for damage.

“Yes I am and no I did not. Now would you mind answering my question. What is wrong, dragonling?” Severus resisted the urge to draw his godson into a hug. Draco was getting big now and he no longer appreciated hugs in public. He looked so worried and frightened. Did something happen to his parents?

“I…I just…” Draco stuttered, at a loss for what to say. Severus was even more shocked. Since when does Draco stutter?

“I would like an answer to that question myself, Draco.” Dumbledore interjected. “Why did you come bursting in here throwing my rather expensive potion onto the floor?” Draco took a deep breath. He passed a hand though his hair trying to calm it down. He regained his composure and lifted up his chin in his usual haughty and slightly bored expression, as if the people around him were too dull and unimportant to be bothered with.

“I wish to say something.” Draco stated rather formerly. Severus got the impression that Draco was avoiding his eye. He was staring at somewhere above his left shoulder.

“It was not Professor Snape who poisoned Potter.”

“And how do you know that, Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore asked.

“Because it was me. I poisoned Potter.” Severus blinked, the words taking a while to sink in. There were muffled sounds coming from beyond the door, a clatter of knives and forks as the house-elves moved about in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. Severus didn’t say anything. He just sat there in a state of disbelief, staring at his dragonling. Draco was not looking at him, not directly. He was staring determinedly at the wall but from time to time he cast fearful glances at Severus as if waiting for him to explode. His right hand fidgeted with a serpent shaped button on his coat.

Severus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t want to believe it. Draco had poisoned Harry? So Harry had been right. Draco really had poisoned him. Severus felt crushed, he felt betrayed by someone he had known and trusted for years. Severus was a Slytherin. There were only a few people in this world he could fully trust and his godson was one of them. He believed in Draco, he always had. No matter what the others said, he knew that his Draco was a good person, a better person than Severus ever was. Then how could he do this? How could he poison Harry?

“So it was all true? You actually did poison Mr. Potter?” Severus hissed angrily. Draco cast another quick glance at his godfather’s face before swiftly looking away.
“Yes, sir.” Draco stated tonelessly. He sounded completely unaffected but Severus knew him too well to be fooled. Draco was trying to hide it but he was frightened.

“Draco Malfoy, look at me!” Draco gulped and finally he looked at Severus. He tried to appear cool and unconcerned but Severus saw the guilt in his face at once. “How could you do this, Draco? How could you blind a fellow student and then lie about it? Mr. Potter had suffered considerably in the last week and are you telling me that you are the cause of his suffering?” Draco was silent. He gulped and looked down, staring at the floorboards as if they were the only thing in the world. His blond hair fell over his face, half covering his expression.

“I want an answer, Draco. How did this happen?” Severus had never been this disappointed in his godson in his entire life. Never had he done something this cruel.. Severus had always had a soft spot for Draco. He rarely ever said even a cross word to the boy but now, his voice was a sharp angry hiss, angrier and more dangerous than Draco had ever heard it. He could see that it was having an effect on the boy. He was trying his best not to squirm or appear too weak but it was a losing battle.

“I didn’t mean to do it!”

“Are you saying that it was an accident?” Severus was half hopeful as he asked the question. Anything was easier to believe than that Draco would deliberately do something this terrible.

“No, sir. It was just a spur of the moment thing.”

“Oh and that makes it alright, does it?” No answer. “Now why don’t you begin by telling me how you got your hands on that particular potion.”

“I stole it from my father’s stores. There’s an age line on the main door and I’m not supposed to enter it but I found a secret entrance some time ago. I went in during the Easter holidays and got the potion.”

“So you were planning to poison Potter ever since Easter. Did you deliberately wait for an opportunity to slip it into his food and blind him, possibly for life.”

“No! I didn’t mean to do that. I got the potion just to show off to Crabbe and Goyle. I do that sometimes, showing them stuff from my father’s private stores. Things that’ll impress them. That’s the only reason I got that potion, I swear!”

“And yet how did it end up in Mr. Potter’s blood system if you did not mean to?”

“I just... I know I shouldn’t have done it but I just got so pissed at that bloody idiot.” Draco’s hands had balled into fists, anger flaring his silver eyes. “It happened a few weeks before the summer holidays. Potter had just found out that he was going to live with you for the summer and I might have gotten a little bit… jealous.” That Severus certainly could believe. Draco could get jealous at the least provocation.

“Potter was sitting there in the Gryffindor table with Granger and the Weasel and he was going on and on about how unfair it all was. He kept saying that he didn’t want to live with a Slytherin git like you. He kept insulting you all the time and I just got so angry. He was getting to live with you and he was complaining? I would’ve done anything to stay with you for the summer, Uncle, but no, I have to go live in France with those morons they call my relatives. And Potter, bloody Potter, got to live with you instead. That’s not fair! And the moron had the grace to insult you too. I just.. I know I shouldn’t have done it and I regretted it the moment I did it but when I was passing the Gryffindor table the vial was in my pocket. It was so easy to open it and slip the contents onto his plate.” For a moment, there was dead silence. Dumbledore was watching the exchange thoughtfully. He looked sad and remorseful but Severus didn’t even remember that there was someone else in the room. He kept staring at his godson, half in shock, half in disappointment. He knew that Draco had his moments of petty jealousy but this was going too far.

“I choose to believe you last night, Draco. Never in my wildest dreams, did I think you capable of such a deed. Yes, you are far from perfect and I know that. You think that others are beneath you and you don’t hesitate to show it but this, this is completely different. You used dark magic. How could you do this, Draco? You’re better than this.”

“I’m sorry, uncle.” He whispered. Severus gulped. The next words were hard for him to say and he did not want to say them but he had to, for Harry’s sake.

“First of all I am going to tell your parents that you stole a priceless relic from their collection and wasted it. I suspect that they will not be too pleased with this discovery. Second of all, you’re going to leave, Draco.” His head shot up at that. Silver grey eyes met his. Severus saw the pain and hurt in his face. He felt his resolve weaken. Was this really the right choice? Yes, it was. Harry should not have to put up with him, at least not yet. He needed to heal and not just physically.

“What do you mean, uncle?”

“You were going to stay the week at my place but, because of your actions, that is no longer an option. You will return to Malfoy Manor and you will not be coming back for the summer.”

“But… you’re kicking me out! You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can. You have proven to me that you pose a threat to Mr. Potter. I cannot leave you alone with him anymore and therefore, you cannot stay in my house, not until you earn my trust back.”

“But.. you promised that you’ll teach me how to brew the draught of living death. You promised that you’ll come and play Quidditch with me.”

“That was before you went around poisoned people.”

“So that’s it? You’re kicking me out just like that. I won’t see you for the rest of the summer.”

“I come over to Malfoy Manor all the time, Draco.” Severus stated, softened despite himself by Draco’s chest fallen appearance.

“But it’s not the same! I always stay half the summer at your place.”

“My decision is final. Nothing you say can persuade me now.” Draco opened his mouth as if to protest but he shut it again with a loud snap. He looked at his godfather and Severus could see his grey eyes misting over. Was he going to cry? Merlin, Severus didn’t think he could hold out if the boy began to cry. But no, Draco only puffed up his chest and held his ground, looking exactly like Lucius.

“Alright. I will pack my stuff and be gone from your house by tomorrow morning.” Draco nodded stiffly and without another word, he spun around and walked away.