~~~~SS~~~~

After the vision on New Year's Eve, their time at Shell Cottage was unexpectedly cut short when Albus called an Order meeting on the night of the second to discuss the events of the raid as well as how to proceed with the information they now had about the task relating to Severus's safety. Personally, he thought it was a waste of time seeing as no one in the Order was more qualified to protect him than himself, but he wasn't really in the mood to argue.

So that evening, Harry, Dudley, and Severus said goodbye to the comfort Shell Cottage had previously provided them and they used a port key to return to Hogwarts. The professor was not normally a superstitious man, however just in case, he did not promise to return there soon as he had when he'd left Aberdaron with Harry in his old reality. The more he could separate the two end results from the two realities, the better.

"Why can't I come with you?" Harry complained, an event that did not take a seer to know would occur. What was unpredictable to the professor was the fact that they were having this conversation in his own bedroom; Harry having followed him in the moment they returned home.

"For one, you are not a member or the Order, regardless of what you happen to think," he started as he unpacked his belongings back into his wardrobe and lavatory. He paused when he pulled out the empty picture and ran his fingers over the white surface, imagining what was hidden beneath, before placing it neatly on his bedside table next to where he kept his wand while he slept. "Second, there is nothing we'll be discussing at the meeting which you do not already know-"

"Exactly!" The Gryffindor interrupted. "It's not like I don't already know what happened. I bloody saw the whole thing. Maybe I can help for once!"

The message was loud and clear - Harry wanted to get involved, he wanted to fight instead of sitting back and waiting to defend. It was a fine line between an offensive and a defensive strategy and if Severus were being completely honest, he didn't think Albus had either of those at the moment. They weren't exactly protecting anything - besides Harry, but he refused to think of the child as a weapon - and they definitely weren't out collecting Death Eaters. In fact, so far their grand strategy seemed to be waiting for Harry and whatever was supposed to happen with the prophesy to come to fruition. That made having Harry present counterproductive to his personal agenda of pushing Albus away from depending on a sixteen year old wizard.

"I promise you, Harry," he watched the young wizard sit defiantly on his bed, "I will tell you whatever I can upon my return."

"It's not fair," Harry replied, jumping off the bed and out the door, hopefully to finish his own unpacking and school assignments because with chemotherapy tomorrow he wouldn't get the chance to.

"When is it ever," the former spy mumbled, following Harry, but unfortunately his destination was to Headquarters.

Severus hated number 12 Grimmauld Place with a passion. It wasn't necessarily the fact that it belonged to the Black family and Sirius - technically Harry now, though the teen would likely never voluntarily step foot here again - it was the dark and dreary atmosphere reminding him too much of the Dark Arts they were fighting so hard against. He could feel it emanating from the walls; like they had been soaking up all the dark magic done within for centuries and was thrusting it back out upon them now that the only visitors were fighting against that very same magic. It was where Harry had so many bad memories in this reality which somehow took priority over the good memories he'd had in the same house from his old reality. Severus's own counterpart had a rough history with the place that he tried hard not to think too much about because it would lead him down a dark road that was better off left alone.

As usual for Order meetings, the room was loud with the members catching up on their holiday and small talking among each other. Severus stood in the back corner, attempting not to draw attention to himself as he saw no need to engage in any of those pleasantries. And yet, somehow it never seemed to work and Lupin approached him.

"How's Harry?" The werewolf asked, a bit sheepishly. Though it had been over a week since the full moon, Severus had taken notice of how rough Lupin looked from his latest transformation. On New Year's Eve he discussed with the other man some easy adjustments he could do in the Wolfsbane potion he was still providing monthly to hopefully make his recovery easier.

"Angry," Severus replied shortly, nevertheless it was an honest assessment of the young Gryffindor since the vision. "We'd just gotten past that phase of things and it seems to have returned in full force."

"I really do appreciate everything you're doing for him," Lupin skeptically replied. "I don't know if I've told you that previously. He's really not your responsibility, but you took him on anyway. I wish there was more I could do."

"Much to everyone's surprise, Harry is not some thing that gets passed around," he replied, letting his anger fuel him. Later, he would blame it on the odd circumstances for not maintaining his control and he would start to question how often that was happening of late. He was losing his touch and losing some control over his own emotions; two things his counterpart relied heavily on. "I stepped up when no one cared to notice Harry falling through every single crack, yourself included. Do not thank me now as a way to appease your own guilty conscience."

Not waiting for a response from the other wizard, Severus took his normal seat as Albus walked into the room and commanded the attention to the front.

"There were a total of 42 muggles killed at the festival from Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters on the 31st," Albus gravely started out knowing it was the number they would all be waiting to hear, "another 112 were injured, half of which are listed as severe, and 25 are still missing.

"This was a planned event, which we can tell based on the pattern of the attack. They trapped the muggles inside the grounds with a ring fire from the surrounding stands, preventing anyone from leaving and slowing down the muggle authorities. It gave them the maximum amount of time to terrorize the patrons."

The group around the table sat eerily silent. Everyone was going through the same thoughts Severus had when he'd first heard the news of the attack.

"Why weren't we notified there was a raid planned?" Moody angrily called out, slamming his staff onto the ground. "Seems to me our insider knowledge was living with the bastard, how come we didn't know about it?"

Every single person turned to look towards Severus. He was trained to work under pressure, he'd had the Dark Lord tear through his mind more times than these people could even think possible, yet sitting under their scrutiny was almost too much to keep his rising temper under control. Draco had a way to get in touch with him at Shell Cottage; he had the same coin system that Severus used to contact Albus in preparation for that night. The fact that the teen did not use it meant either he hadn't known about it, his cover had been discovered, or he simply was not in a position to be able to contact him. None of the options bode well for the blonde, and it would be something he needed to quickly get to the bottom of.

"I have not been able to debrief our operative of his time at the Dark Lord's headquarters," he aggressively replied. "When I have an answer, I will be sure to share any relevant information with you."

That was the best the former auror would get from him even if it weren't for their tainted history. Tonight was not the night to mess with him.

"Let's move on," Arthur said, "has the guard from Malfoy Manor uncovered anything?"

"As a matter of fact, we did," Moody gave a strained smirk as if it was causing him pain to rub this into the former Death Eater's face, however Severus knew he was fully enjoying it, "seems that our operative had spent a lot of his time with Rabastan Lestrange."

Dammit.

This was not good and the implication of it wasn't lost on Moody who had obviously been told that in Harry's vision, Yaxley and this particular Lestrange brother were credited for planning the raid. Severus could feel his panic and anger rising. He'd put himself on the line defending Draco this entire time and he would continue to do so until he knew what the bloody hell was going on. It was what Albus had done for him when the tides had been turned against him, but that didn't mean he couldn't be angry about being caught so off guard.

"There is also a woman living there," Moody continued, "who we suspect is the missing healer from St. Mungo's. We've been able to see her coming and going from the main house, always under the constant guard of Lucius Malfoy."

At that announcement, the noise in the room increased ten-fold. Lost deep in his thoughts on how to handle Draco's lack of communication when all indications pointed towards him being in close contact with at least one of the two Death Eaters that planned the raid, he blocked out the commotion around him. He could only hope the teen had some decent information to share with the Order that would somehow excuse his guilty appearance. Otherwise, there wasn't much Severus could do to keep him out of the Auror's custody. Knowing Moody, while he wouldn't necessarily try to place all 42 deaths on the boy, he wouldn't let him get out scot-free either. No, he had to get some kind of information from Draco and then talk to Albus about a contingency or possibly even an exit plan.

The meeting droned on without much else that Severus could give his input on. Without being in the Dark Lord's inner circle nor having had time to debrief Draco, he didn't know why he was required to stay in the first place. The only thing really accomplished - which in itself was frustrating - by the end of the meeting, was that it was determined that the guard at Malfoy Manor was worth the risk and therefore would stay in place until further notice. As Severus had nothing to do with said guard, he couldn't care less who wanted to risk their lives to wait and watch for the peacocks to walk by.

"Severus," Albus called after the meeting had adjourned, "please stay behind."

Gritting his teeth, he cursed the headmaster to himself for the public message he'd just sent. While the former Death Eater could admit that Albus had no choice but to call out immediately after the meeting ended, before anyone had the chance to file out, simply because Severus was usually the first to leave and tonight would have been no exception. For the second time in as many hours, the entirety of the Order was looking at him as if he were some common criminal. He was getting reprimanded because his protégé broke protocol. Anger filled him at both the blonde Slytherin for letting him down and himself for not checking in more often. He'd been too distracted lately and had put his guard down prematurely.

"I suggest you sit down with young Mr. Malfoy and explain the severity of the situation he's facing," Albus explained once they were the only two members left in the menacing house. "I'm sure there is some kind of explanation as to why he could not contact you prior, however the fact that you've heard nothing since is alarming."

"I do agree," he conceded but for different reasons. His concern was more about Draco's safety, questioning if the teen had not been safe to contact and what that could mean. "I'll be sitting down with him after the welcoming dinner on Sunday. Unless of course you see reason to call him back to school early? I believe that will likely draw more attention to his position within the Order."

"Do you think he's been compromised?"

It was the million galleon question he probably wouldn't even know after he sat down with the teen. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts about how to answer the simple question, he met Albus's blue eyes, dulled with worry, and said with a straight face, "We'd never know it until it was too late."

~~~~HP~~~~

Sunday 5, January 1997

Harry woke up on the last day of his Christmas holiday in an aggressive mood. He hadn't finished his assignments before he had chemotherapy two days ago, leaving him with one essay to write and two to rewrite per Snape's not so subtle instructions. It would have been fine, except for some reason that treatment hit him hard and he was sick most of yesterday too. It had been weeks since he'd been too sick or in so much pain he could hardly move after chemotherapy and it frustrated him not knowing why. Ultimately, it didn't really matter and with only one more round of phase two, on the 13th and 14th, he'd have a whole new set of side effects to get used to coming up. Luckily today he woke up feeling much better, but was now stuck with too many essays to write in a short amount of time.

Then there was the fact that Snape hadn't told him much from the Order meeting after his vision. He didn't need the details of what they'd found, having experienced it along with Voldemort's innermost thoughts and feelings of it, but it would be nice to know what the Order was planning to do about the whole thing. But of course, that was asking too much. He was only a pawn in Dumbledore's war. On second thought, he was probably more like bishop or knight, but the sentiment was all the same. As long as he did his duty, no one really cared what happened to him in the end.

It was with those aggressively negative thoughts that he found himself sitting on the sofa working on his Transfiguration essay, the one he hadn't even started yet since most of it was practical lessons he couldn't do. His quill was scratching far too hard on the parchment - threatening to break the tip - when Snape finally sat down in his normal armchair, leaning back to rest his head on the plush back. The professor had been frantically moving about their quarters all morning doing what, Harry would never be told, so he hadn't asked. He probably wouldn't have cared if it weren't for his current mood.

"What's going on?" He asked Snape, not really expecting any kind of answer, but he had too much built up anger to sit in silence.

"It's not really-"

"Any of my concern," Harry finished his predictable response. "I got that the first dozen times you've told me since we've been back home."

To the professor's credit, Harry saw him try to keep his own temper in check when dealing with Harry's own angry one. It wouldn't do either of them any good if they both had explosive attitudes.

"Tell me what's on your mind."

It wasn't a question and he somehow made it clear that he expected a response from the Gryffindor. Snape leaned forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. Harry supposed it made him look more relatable, but that didn't mean much to him at that moment.

"I don't want to go back to classes this term," Harry spat out quickly at the same time he stopped his quill dramatically. "It's completely pointless."

Again, he saw Snape put up the mask he always wore when he needed to hide his first reaction. It frustrated Harry, even when he wasn't feeling as confrontational as he was that day. Why was it so wrong to show any kind of emotion? It made much more sense to him to act surprised when you were taken off guard, sad after hearing bad news, and happy when something good happened. Who said indifference was the best way to react to someone or something? For once, he'd like to know what Snape was thinking to the request he'd just given, not thinking that perhaps the reaction the former Death Eater would have might terrify the young wizard.

"Can you tell me why you think I should allow you to quit school?"

"I didn't say quit school," Harry started. "I just…"

"Do not wish to return," the professor finished. "Just so we are both on the same page, that is, indeed, called quitting. Now I'll ask you again, why should I allow it?"

"First," Harry was gearing up for the fight that deep down he wanted, "I'm so far behind, there's no way I could have been graded for my classes last term."

"You would be correct," Snape confirmed, and Harry felt like he'd been hit with a stunning spell to his gut.

"So if I'm not getting graded, why go at all?"

They both sat across from each unsure of what to say. Harry knew it was petty of him - that he wanted to pick this fight - but he didn't care. It felt good to get some of that pent up frustration out even if it was directed at the wrong person

"Get up," Snape said standing with his arms crossed in front of him.

"Wait… what?" Harry couldn't be more confused and his emerald eyes with his furrowed brow gave way to that confusion.

"I said," Snape repeated sternly, "Get. Up. Now."

Audibly gulping, Harry rose and immediately felt uncomfortable under the professor's gaze. After being ill the last two days, the Gryffindor hadn't bothered with his jeans and jumper, instead choosing to stay comfortable in a pair of gray gym trousers and a long sleeved red shirt. Now though, he felt like he was being judged for wearing clothing a half a step above pyjamas after lunch.

"That will do," Snape responded and walked towards the door. With a wave of his wand, Harry's own Holly wand came flying from his bedroom into the professor's hand, "follow me."

Now, in addition to being confused, Harry was feeling a little scared. Where was the man taking him where he'd need his wand? He hadn't used the thing since before they confirmed the block and the need to protect it. Not wanting to get into any more trouble than he already was, the young wizard followed his mentor out their door and through the extremely quiet, deserted corridors. Harry was sure that in addition to their footsteps echoing across the walls, his drumming heart could be heard by each and every portrait they passed. They continued walking until Harry finally had a clue of their final destination. His suspicion was confirmed when the pair entered the corridor where the defense classroom was held.

He walked into the classroom slowly, watching as Snape pushed away the empty desks with wandless, nonverbal magic, until the middle of the classroom was completely empty. Harry's heart rate began to rise even more than during the mysterious walk up here, and all he could think was that there was no way this was going to end well. Had he finally pushed the man past his breaking point? It wouldn't take Merlin to know that going beyond the professor's breaking point wouldn't end well for him at all.

"Erm," Harry started nervously, "sir? I'm sorry for what I said, I'm frustrated with-"

"I know that, Harry," Snape interrupted him by holding the Holly wand out in his left hand. "Take your wand and I'd like you to attack me."

Harry's eyes went wide, but he didn't know if it was from the shock of hearing Snape asking to be attacked or the fact that he was being told to use his magic. Deciding to start with the latter, he asked, "You're allowing me to use my magic?"

"Sometimes we need to take risks for the overall greater good," he responded with a small cringe, which in reality didn't actually answer Harry's question.

Holding out his wand, he thought about what he should cast first. Just having his wand in his hand felt odd to him, but he focused on the magic coursing through his body. It was like seeing his friends again for the first time after the summer holiday; it was excited, a little nervous, but ready to go and be used.

"Flipendo!" The Gryffindor called out and smiled as a yellow light came flying from the tip of the wand. The reaction time was no different than he remembered, although he couldn't really say he'd paid attention before learning all about magical cores.

Unsurprisingly, Snape blocked it, the man had known he was going to get attacked after all; had asked to be attacked really. It was like the dam inside of him broke after that first spell and when Snape said "again", Harry was ready. Before either of them knew it, they were dueling - albeit extremely slowly and completely one-sided - but to Harry it was enough to start to release the negative energy that had been building up inside of him since that awful vision. He lost complete track of time as the pair fell into a rhythm, with Harry throwing out spell after spell and Snape continuing to block with ease. The young wizard pictured himself fighting against everything he couldn't physically fight right now: the cancer, Voldemort, Draco's impact on Hermione, his school work, the chemotherapy, his relatives' treatment of him, and with each jinx or hex thrown, he felt himself feeling better; his head started to clear. It could have been five minutes or fifty minutes, he was so lost in the moment it was impossible to tell, before he was sweating like crazy and they were finally interrupted. He guessed it was only a matter of time until someone had to have heard the bangs and booms echoing off the empty classroom walls.

"What do you think you are doing?"

The screeching from Professor McGonagall distracted Snape just enough that he missed the block to Harry's stinging jinx which proceeded to hit him on his left upper arm. The professor fell to the ground, holding his injured arm with a grimace of pain across his face.

Panting, Harry leaned over and rested his hands on his knees, not sure what to tell his guardian about what had been going on in the classroom. Luckily, he didn't have to as Snape stepped in for him.

"Thank you for that Minerva," he approached the very angry Transfiguration professor. Harry randomly remembered he had been working on her essay - due tomorrow - before all of this started and now would need to hurry to finish it tonight. "I was actually in complete control of the situation before you showed up."

"Complete?" her head was turning rapidly between the two wizards, "complete control? Do you have any idea what could have happened?!"

"Harry needed to release some," Snape turned towards the Gryffindor wizard, "leftover aggression from what had happened over New Year's and I was helping him overcome it."

Harry felt himself flush. Had it been that obvious he was trying to pick a fight?

"Severus," McGonagall argued in such a huff she couldn't even put her words together. "There is so much wrong with this situation and as the adult here, I would expect better of you."

"Harry," Snape started, ignoring McGonagall's lecture in a move Harry was sure he would never attempt without risking death, and the young wizard felt a setup coming his way, "as Minerva is your guardian, and responsible for overseeing your academic curriculum, is there anything you'd like to discuss with her now?"

That was so Slytherin.

He squinted his eyes at the man across from him, who appeared to be sweating more than Harry had ever seen him before. Maybe he hadn't been as awful as he'd thought? Focusing again at the question he'd been posed, the Gryffindor wizard could admit that he no longer had the urge to quit his classes. As usual, Snape had been right: it was merely a reaction to his overly angry mood.

"No," Harry said to McGonagall, but without moving his eyes from Snape, "there's nothing I need right now."

"Perfect," Snape replied and then rested his hand on Harry's shoulder almost gleefully - if the professor could ever be described like that. "In that case, you should go back home and get ready for the welcoming dinner. I'd suggest a shower, and I think you had an essay or two to finish up."

Harry's mouth hung open at the casual dismissal. Still not quite sure what had transpired between them and what Snape was going to explain to McGonagall, the young wizard made his way towards the door.

"And Harry," the defense professor called out. Instinctively, Harry cringed as he turned back around, "you will be in this classroom first thing tomorrow morning."

Damn, how did he get so bloody good?!

~~~~SS~~~~

The afternoon dueling, if one could even call it that as it was simply Harry firing off spells that Severus was blocking - at least until Minerva showed up - was probably one of his better ideas to help the Gryffindor deal with his frustration over the injustices of his life. When the young wizard assaulted him with the idea of not returning to classes tomorrow, Severus knew something drastic had to be done and it was worth the lecture he'd received from Minerva on Harry's safety. As if he, of all people, would forget.

Overall, it appeared to help, and Severus was pleasantly surprised when he saw the young wizard chatting away with his friends over dinner in the Great Hall once all the students returned. At his Slytherin table though, Draco was acting as arrogant as ever, a sign to the former spy that something was amiss with the teen. Draco had made very promising progress on his moral and character growth, and yet upon returning from holiday he appeared to lose most of that progress. Severus knew better though. No one, not even a Malfoy, could go backwards that drastically without a reason; it was likely a façade the blonde was putting in place to protect himself.

After dinner he was sitting in the quiet of his defense office, going through the lesson plans for the first week post-holiday, also known as one of the least productive weeks of the school year and therefore one of the most difficult; for both the students and himself. When he was overseeing the Potion's class, he always made sure there would be zero brewing in the post-holiday week, even for his N.E.W.T classes. It had only taken one horrific explosion in his second year teaching to know that the students simply couldn't focus on the tasks at hand after spending about a fortnight away and celebrating with their families. For his defense classes though, he had decided to take a completely different approach. What better way to get the students focused than their need to defend themselves against their fellow classmates? Therefore, the first day of each class would be spent reviewing the defensive spells they'd learned in practical lessons. It would get them up and moving instead of falling asleep to him droning on and on with a lecture.

"Professor?" His attention was brought up to his doorway where Draco stood. "You asked me to stop by?"

Demanded was more how it went, but he didn't correct him. Gesturing to the chair across from his desk, he mentally prepared for wherever this conversation could lead; it could go well and he'd have a long list of things to share with Albus, but he was realist by nature and therefore prepared for the worst.

When the door slammed close behind the blonde, he wasted no time in getting started, "Tell me what happened at the manor. I expect no detail left unturned."

Draco's grey eyes steeled as he thought about the pseudo-interrogation he was about to be subjected to.

"There's not much to say," the teenager told him with an air of defiance Severus did not appreciate.

"I happen to disagree," he challenged. "A raid that killed 42 muggles while you were living with the Dark Lord himself does not translate to 'not much happening'. I will understand if you were not in a position to alert me before the fact, but you will not lie to me about it afterwards."

His anger was growing with each passing second. Not allowing himself to show his hand prematurely, he waited in the uncomfortable silence.

"I couldn't notify you," Draco repeated the excuse that had been provided, and that fact did not go unnoticed by the former spy. "I found out about it a couple of days after Christmas, but I was never left alone after that."

"Why were you with Rabastan?" It was more pointed of a question than he had planned to ask, however it was also the most damning evidence against the teen as to where his loyalty fell. "We know he was one of the orchestrators of the raid and we also know you were seen often with him, specifically between Christmas and New Year's Eve. There are a lot of people asking a lot of questions I have no answers for."

"How did you know about who set it up?" Draco asked with a panic-filled voice that was so far from the training they've done. "And where I spent my time?"

"Potter saw it all in a vision that same night," he explained, since Draco and the Dark Lord already knew about the visions. He could not safely tell him about the guard though, not until he knew for sure he hadn't been compromised, and therefore ignored the second question.

Again, an awkward silence surrounded the mentor and his protégé. Draco was lost in his thoughts, his eyes shifting as if he were playing back the memories of that time frame.

"Of course he saw it all," the blonde Slytherin eventually said once the silence had gotten far too deafening for him. "Rabastan was training me. The fact that I hadn't… killed… anyone yet had drawn unwanted attention to me. To keep my cover, I allowed him to do what he felt was necessary so I was ready for the raid."

It had been foolish for him to think they'd get Draco out before his soul was forever tainted by causing the death of another human being. He hadn't focused their training on killing because he concentrated on making sure Draco would be able to keep his cover, and now the weight of his own failure covered him like a blanket. What had Draco been subjected to during this so-called training? Given no other choice, and already knowing the answer, he had to ask the question.

"And did you kill?"

The answer came in the eerie silence that followed those four heavy words. It was an unfortunate part of war and one that he wished he could keep both Draco and Harry far away from, but no matter how hard he tried, it seemed they were destined to be engulfed in the death and destruction of it all - Draco participating and Harry being forced to watch - both completely helpless in their own way. And so he did the only thing he could do at this point - he listened to Draco recount his "lessons" from the Lestrange brother and what happened during the raid, including the two people he had been forced to kill; the first of whom was not from using the killing curse, however he quickly found that the Unforgivable gave a faster, painless death.

Draco did not cry, though his eyes were red rimmed. He'd had it ingrained in him that crying was a weakness - another similarity between Harry and Draco, though in Harry's case it was because he learned early on that his cries would go unnoticed and in many cases punished - and that weaknesses could be exploited. Severus knew from experience that nothing he said to try to ease the blonde's guilty conscience would make any difference; this raid would forever be a part of the teen.

It took the better part of an hour to go over every detail from his "training" to what happened from his viewpoint - as opposed to the Dark Lord's through Harry - from the raid. Severus had no doubts that Draco was being honest with him about what had occurred over his holiday and his time with the Death Eaters. He'd talked about the summons he'd received when he first arrived home, about the Dark Lord's presence over their practically non-existent Christmas celebration, and about his feelings of being used as revenge for his father's own mistakes at the Department of Mysteries last June. He wasn't wrong; unfortunately, that was the only logical reason the Dark Lord would want him marked so soon to begin with - to torture Lucius and Narcissa.

In all of the information he'd learned, like the confirmation that Nadine Walker was living at the manor to help heal the Dark Lord, or that they should expect an increased number of raids as Voldemort was losing his patience with that healing process, and the details of Matthew's murder, including where to find his body, he listened patiently hoping to get to the piece of information he was desperate to hear unsolicited from the new spy. What he was waiting to hear was about the mission for his own capture and return to the Dark Lord's service. While he'd assured Harry that no Death Eaters could get into the castle, the fact remained that one was already planted here and if he were the Dark Lord - and wanted to obtain someone from inside these wards - he would use that single Death Eater to accomplish it. There was no doubt in his mind that the masked wizard that had been called to stay behind after the raid was Draco Malfoy. What he questioned - and was ultimately testing - was where the teen's loyalties lie after spending the holiday submerged in the dark arts of the Death Eaters. Would Draco provide that information to him freely?

"Is that all?" He prompted when Draco finished his explanation of what had occurred before and leading up to New Year's Eve.

The conflict was there, as obvious as ever, in the teen's grey eyes and his clenched pointed jaw.

"No," he replied to Severus's relief. "He's asked me to capture you and bring you back to the Manor."

"I know," he responded without any fanfare in his voice.

"You know?!" Draco angrily replied, standing up so quickly the chair he'd practically seeped into during his description of the raid crashed backwards to the floor. Severus did not even blink. "Oh I get it! I bet Potter saw that too? Why the bloody hell didn't you say something? Was this all a test?"

"One that you passed," the former spy confirmed, "though I'll admit I wasn't sure you would at the end."

"Shite, Severus." The teen ran his hands through his uncharacteristically messy blonde hair. "After everything we've been through, you seriously doubted me?"

"I did not doubt you," he reassured Draco, "however that does not mean I will not test that trust. Get used to it."

Draco scowled at him before up-righting his chair and aggressively sitting back down in it so hard, the professor was surprised it didn't break, "So what do we do? I think he expects you to brew whatever it was that Matthew botched up so badly that got him killed, but I can't actually deliver you to him."

It was a relief to not only hear Draco say those last seven words, but to feel the meaning behind them. No matter what had just transpired between them, Draco wouldn't betray him or the Order.

"I will work it out with the Headmaster," he had no real plans on how to get Draco out of this impossible task as of yet, but he wasn't about to admit to that. "We will find a way to keep you safe above all else."

He could tell Draco didn't believe him, which was more than evident with his mumbled, "Sure thing."

"I do need to see your memories from the holiday," Severus very matter-of-factly said, hoping to keep the issue of his invasion of the teen's privacy to a minimum. "I'm going to be honest, it's not only because that is what Moody expects me to do, given your lack of communication about the raid, but I'll also be able to ascertain if your cover has been compromised. If you'd like, I'll give you time to get your thoughts together before-"

"Just do it," Draco interrupted him, the scowl still firmly planted on his face, "That's the only way you'll satisfy them. After spending my holiday with those bastards, trust me, I'm not ever switching sides."

"I'm pulling him out," Severus hadn't even waited for Albus to offer him one of his blasted sweets before making his demand clear. He'd stormed from his office upon seeing the memories from Draco's encounters with the various Death Eaters, determined to get the blonde out no matter what the cost. "With this impossible task hanging over his head, they're going to kill him if he doesn't do it."

Only in this office would he speak honestly about his doubts and vulnerabilities and this fit the bill to a tee. He was filled with rage over what Rabastan put Draco through, guilt over his own lack of direction that put Draco in that position to begin with, and afraid because he had no idea how to fix it all besides finding anyway to get his Slytherin out of there.

"That isn't entirely your call to make, my boy," Albus challenged back, though it wasn't a completely unexpected answer, the headmaster's sincerity over the situation as a whole was.

"This a lose-lose situation for him," Severus explained, allowing his head to clear a little more about it, "either he delivers me to the Dark Lord and he's labeled a traitor to the Order and delivered to Azkaban, or he doesn't and he's killed for being a traitor to the Dark Lord. We need to hide him, there's no other choice anymore."

"And what do we say to Narcissa and Lucius when their child goes missing from the school grounds one day?"

It would be an absolute nightmare and there would be no way Albus would recover as headmaster from a missing Malfoy. It was one thing for the Greengrass girls not to return from the Christmas Holiday - secretly hidden away with their mother at Shell Cottage - but the Malfoy's were living with the dark wizard. It wouldn't go unnoticed, nor would it go unmentioned to the Board of Governors or the Daily Prophet. Nevertheless, it was the only choice left that didn't end with Draco in Azkaban or dead and he would have to convince the teen of that simple fact.

"We hide them too," his mask of control was placed back over his face as this was far too close to a conversation he had with the headmaster about sixteen years ago, when he begged the man to hide Lily and then her family. He tried hard not to think about how awful that turned out. "Narcissa will do anything to protect her son, and I believe Lucius would as well, however if we at least have Narcissa on Draco's side then there won't be much effort put into their search. The last thing Lucius would want is an investigation into his wife and son's disappearance, to draw unwanted attention to his current circumstances."

Albus paced across the floor likely trying to consider what each move would do to their chessboard down the road. Losing his patience, Severus retorted, "We cannot leave him to this task!"

"I trust you, Severus," Albus finally admitted, taking longer than the younger professor would have liked, "I'll start moving some things around and get an exit strategy in place for him and Narcissa. When would the next expectation be that he returned home?"

"Outside of a summons?" Severus asked rhetorically, "Easter holiday. Draco typically goes home for that one."

Nodding his head, the elderly wizard looked up and met Severus's eyes, "I will make it work within that time frame. Please make young Mr. Malfoy aware of our intentions and should he get summoned before then, he should answer it. It's imperative that everything is business as usual until the Easter holiday."

A wave of relief ran from his head to his toes. He refused to let Draco be imprisoned or killed and while it wasn't as immediate as he would have hoped, these types of things never were. They needed to make their moves slowly or face the consequences of Voldemort discovering what they were doing. It would be unlikely that Draco was summoned before Easter, and if he were, they would be facing a whole set of other issues to deal with.

"And Severus," the defense professor was almost out the door of the headmaster's office when Albus called to him, "I won't let Tom get to you."

Taken aback by the bold statement, he physically recoiled. Not once since learning of the task to capture him did it ever occur to the former spy that his life may be in danger.

"I know you won't," he answered genuinely, "the alternative never crossed my mind."

Later, while he was sitting in his office with a glass of firewhiskey, Harry having long gone off to bed ready to continue his education in the morning, Severus reflected on the mess he'd managed to find himself in. Between the Order meeting earlier in the week, navigating another one of Harry's challenging moods, and adding Draco's situation into the mix, he'd be lucky to get out of this with his mind still fully intact. For now, they had a plan for all of those situations: Harry was staying in classes even though he knew he was not getting graded, it being for the best that he had something to focus on. For Draco, he would sit down with the Slytherin later this week and lay down their idea of an exit plan, and until then he simply needed to go about his way as if nothing was happening. The most important part was that the blonde would not be expected to complete his task and he would be protected from his future failure in it. Whether they liked it or not, it was imperative above all else that they stayed focused and that they kept looking and moving forward. He downed the last half of his glass at once, then left for his bedroom, not at all ready for the start of term in the morning.