Albus Dumbledore came to visit one afternoon, precisely a month after Narcissa Malfoy’s funeral. While the date might have been coincidental, Severus was sure that it was anything but. And he greeted the headmaster with a reserved countenance.

By his side, Saturnine was slightly more welcoming. His sister played gracious host, serving them all tea and biscuits while Severus frowned at the headmaster from his place on the sofa nearest the Potions lab’s entrance. The boys were outside, busy chasing each other around the house on their respective broomsticks.

“You’ve redecorated,” Dumbledore observed, indicating the new room that faced him.

Saturnine nodded. “Sorry, we had to. We needed a place to brew the potion for Severus and Draco’s marks. I can set it back right before we leave.”

Dumbledore shook his un-gloved hand dismissively. “No need, my dear. This old place could do with a couple more rooms.” He sighed. “I would never have thought to ask all four of you to spend the summer here. Only you and Harry were already familiar with the place, and I didn’t have anything else set up at that moment. I hope you don’t find the proximity too difficult.”

The comment had been meant for him, Severus knew. But he chose to ignore it, just as he ignored the cup of tea his sister was holding out for him.

“Not at all, Headmaster,” Saturnine replied with a ready smile as she placed the unwanted cup on the coffee table. “I rather think it’s been good for the boys.”

Dumbledore’s tired eyes still had enough energy to twinkle at her words, and Severus had a scathing comment ready to tumble from his lips should the old fool dare to comment on the fact that the two teenagers weren’t the only ones who’d been forced to share a room. Some merciful god must have been protecting him, for the amused look was all he got.

“Yes, I’ve always been rather fond of this old cottage,” he said before taking a sip of his tea. Severus couldn’t help but notice that the cup shook slightly in his frail hand. “But I hadn’t been back in years. Such a shame time flies by so fast.”

Hoping the two weren’t going to exchange pleasantries all afternoon, Severus crossed his arms over his chest as he fought not to tap his foot impatiently. They had requested a meeting with the headmaster over a week ago, and he’d taken his sweet time showing up to their oh-so-wonderfully-quaint abode. Was he planning on keeping them waiting the rest of the afternoon, too, before they talked business—Order business?

Saturnine must have perceived his irritation, for she launched into a careful explanation of their plan the minute she sat down by his side on the sofa. Dumbledore remained silent until she was finished, his good hand stroking his long beard absentmindedly while the other remained limp in its protective velvet glove.

“I recognise you both in that plan,” Dumbledore said after she’d finished. “Saturnine’s ingenuity merging with Severus’ cunning—a most formidable combination. You are both a credit to your respective Houses.”

Severus scoffed aloud at the headmaster’s words, while his sister was slightly more restrained and simply rolled her eyes. Neither of them had ever liked being narrowed down to such basic parameters as the Houses they’d been sorted into. Dumbledore must have missed their discontent, for he happily continued in the same vein. “I’ve always thought the two of you to be rather formidable in your own ways. But that’s nothing compared to what you can achieve when you combine your efforts. You should do that more often.”

Severus had had enough of the saccharine praise. “I take it to mean that you agree with our plan,” he cut in.

“Of course, my dear boy,” Dumbledore affirmed. “How long will it take you to set everything in motion?”

They hadn’t discussed that yet. Severus briefly glanced left towards his sister to gauge her opinion on the matter.

“I’ll need a few days to inspect everything and make sure I’ve covered every angle,” she informed him. “And we need to find all the ingredients for you to brew the Stasis Potion.”

Severus nodded. Some would be difficult to find—and costly. But he was sure to be able to assemble them all within a week or two. “I will require some assistance in that matter,” he admitted. Though most of his strength had returned, his magic was still a little on the fritz. And he could use a hand with a potion as complicated as this.

“I’ll gladly help you however I can,” Saturnine said with a nod.

“Shall we wait for the term to start?” Dumbledore asked.

Severus nodded, barely holding back the ‘if you can last that long’ comment on the tip of his tongue. “You should increase the dosage of the Strengthening Drought until then,” he advised before looking away. “And rest as much as you can.”

Uneasiness had surged in him at the words, and he wished he could Occlude to clear his thoughts. As it was, he settled for imagining dancing flames in the empty grate facing him.

“Rest assured that I will do everything I can to last the summer,” Dumbledore said with what sounded like forced cheerfulness. It was so out of place that Severus’ head whipped his way at the crude reality the comment brought forth.

A soft smile was waiting for him on Dumbledore’s lips, and he looked away again, feeling the corner of his eyes prickle. Closing his hand into a fist, Severus willed the surge of emotion back down as he said, “We made some headway in our research on the Horcruxes.”

“Good—very good,” Dumbledore said. “Have you found any more?”

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Saturnine shake her head. “We agree that Salazar Slytherin’s locket must be one, though we have no idea where it could be today. We don’t think the Dark Lord has had access to any other artefact that belonged to the founder of Slytherin House. Instead, he may have gone after heirlooms from the other founders.”

Severus took over from that point forward. “We agree that it is unlikely that he went after something of Godric Gryffindor—for obvious reasons. But he may have used something of Helga Hufflepuff or Rowena Ravenclaw.”

Dumbledore considered their words a moment before asking, “Am I to assume that you have a list of potential items that may have survived the centuries?”

“Ravenclaw’s diadem is the first thing that comes to mind,” Saturnine said. “The lore associated with that tiara is widely known throughout the Wizarding World. And it’s the kind of item the Dark Lord would have sought to obtain to gain power. A jewel that enhances the wisdom of its wearer is in line with the Deathly Hallows. But I have no clue whether a Ravenclaw heirloom would work on a Slytherin.”

“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,” Dumbledore said, quoting the words said to be etched upon the diadem’s surface, proving that he, too, had heard about the magical relic. “The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw,” he said with a tired sigh, “is so-called for a reason. No one’s seen it in hundreds of years.”

“I will ask the Grey Lady about it upon our return to the castle,” Saturnine said. “There’s a couple of volumes in the Restricted Section of the library that I would also like to examine.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Anything else?” he asked.

“Upon further investigation, it seems Hepzibah Smith not only managed to acquire Salazar Slytherin’s locket but also a golden cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff,” Severus said. “She went to Borgin and Burkes with both items. And if Tom Riddle stole the necklace from her, it is safe to assume he got his hands on the cup, too.”

Glancing briefly at his sister, Severus wasn’t surprised to see a frown of displeasure mar her forehead. The disappointment was directed inwardly, he knew. She blamed herself for having missed the connection that he so readily made as he perused her research document. In her defence, she’d been rather preoccupied with the locket at that time.

“I may have an idea where that one is,” he continued. “Bellatrix Lestrange once boasted that she’d been entrusted with the care of a particularly important object by the Dark Lord. She said it was a bejewelled golden goblet. But it might very well have been Hufflepuff’s cup.”

Dumbledore leaned forward in interest, peering at him over his half-moon spectacles. He eagerly asked, “And do you have any idea where it could be?”

Severus shook his head. “Bella obviously didn’t say, and we can’t ask her about it now,” he said, feeling his hackles rising as he remembered his final confrontation with the mad witch and the fire that had consumed her before his very eyes. “I’m fairly certain the Lestranges have vaults at Gringotts—it might be a good place to start.”

“Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange have been taken to Azkaban, pending their trial,” Dumbledore explained. “Though they may not know about the cup directly, they could still give us access to the family vaults.” He paused, seeming to consider that line of action. “I will see what I can do.”

“That only leaves us with the snake, then,” Saturnine said. “If the Dark Lord created six Horcruxes, as Professor Slughorn believes...”

“Getting close to Nagini won’t be easy,” Severus added. “The two are never far from each other.”

“We’ll keep that bloody snake for last then,” she said. “The two can go out together in a blaze of glory, for all I care.”

Noise coming in from the bedroom and the sound of the en-suite shower room opening and closing told both siblings that the boys had returned from their bout of flying around the cottage. Why these two could never use the front door to come and go like everyone else was beyond Severus. That James Potter’s urchin’s upbringing left something to be desired was one thing. But surely his godson ought to be better behaved. Sighing inwardly, he feared Harry was becoming a bad influence on Draco.

“Now that this is settled,” Dumbledore said, “there’s one more matter that I need to discuss with you—the four of you.”

Severus tensed at that and did not participate in the idle chitchat Dumbledore and Saturnine engaged in while they waited for Harry and Draco to make an appearance.

A short while later, both teens burst out of the corridor in a frenzy of chatter and lively motions. They were aiming for the kitchen but stopped dead in the living room’s entrance as they noticed their headmaster’s presence.

Draco was the first to recover his countenance. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said with a polite nod.

“Mister Malfoy, Mister Potter,” Dumbledore said, turning their way with a fond smile. “It is good to see that you both seem to be enjoying your summer in Cornwall.”

“Although, I fail to see why you cannot ever seem to enjoy using the front door to enter the cottage,” Severus admonished them with the reproachful tone of voice he’d spent years perfecting.

“We—uh—didn’t want to track mud and dirt in everywhere,” Harry said meekly.

Severus felt one of his eyebrows rise of its own volition at the sheer stupidity of the statement.

“I know Professor Flitwick is getting on in the years. But surely his teaching hasn’t deteriorated to the point of missing out on the Scourgifying Charm, has it?” he demanded. And both boys froze under his demanding gaze. “Or have you two forgotten that you’re wizards?”

A matching set of blushing faces lowered as both teens mumbled equally unintelligible answers; their uneasiness made Severus laugh on the inside.

“Don’t let the mean Potions professor get to you, boys,” Saturnine said. “He enjoys taunting easily impressible children for no reason.”

Severus huffed at that. Sure, it was the truth. But their charges didn’t need to know that.

“Come have a seat with us,” she instructed, motioning at the sofa.

Both boys obeyed, and Severus watched with an amused twinkle in his dark eyes as they raced for the spot furthest from him. Draco, who’d been closer, won the race. And Harry was forced to sit in the middle. But he took great care to sit as close to the blond as he could.

***

Now that he sat at eye level with the headmaster, Harry was surprised to see how frail Albus Dumbledore looked. With his sallow skin and drawn-out features, to say he was tired would be an understatement. He’d lost weight, and the wrinkles on his face had grown more pronounced. His cursed hand was safely hidden away beneath a lilac glove, but it hung limply by his side. Actually, the old wizard’s posture made him think that more than his hand was dead to the world. Harry surmised it was the same throughout the entire arm.

There was a grave air to Dumbledore’s face, too. And Harry wondered if this visit had been a semi-official Order of the Phoenix gathering rather than a social call.

“I’m sorry to say that I am here in an official capacity as headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Dumbledore said at last, and Harry frowned in puzzlement. Glancing sideways at Saturnine who was perched on the edge of the coffee table, he saw her forehead creasing and surmised that she had no idea what this was about, either.

“It would seem that Lucius Malfoy is very keen to have his son back by his side,” Dumbledore continued. “And he’s presented us with an ultimatum of sorts.”

The Slytherins on either side of Harry tensed at the words. But it was Saturnine who asked the first question. “Does he know that we have Draco?”

“He’s been made aware that you and Severus rescued him and surmises that you have been keeping him safe ever since. He’s demanding, quite insistently, to be told where.”

“But he can’t find me, right?” Draco asked. “This place is protected?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Only a handful of Order members have access to this cottage, and none of them can reveal its location to outsiders. You need not fear your father or the Dark Lord coming here.”

Draco breathed out a relieved sigh and relaxed a fraction; Harry could understand his uneasiness. There was little doubt that Voldemort was behind the request to locate him, and that if he were to be found, there would be some severe repercussions to his actions leading to the ultimate sanction. Draco would most likely die an excruciating death, while his father would be forced to watch from the sidelines.

Chancing a glance at Saturnine, Harry saw that her features were coiled with anxious tension. He knew the look: no matter what Dumbledore was here to announce, she would do everything she could to protect Draco. And he had an idea that her brother felt equally inclined.

“You said something of an ultimatum,” the Potions Master by his side remarked.

“Yes, I’m afraid that Lucius has resorted to some rather uncouth means to try and get Draco back.” He heaved a sigh. “I was under no illusion that he would try something nasty. But I did not foresee him stooping so low—not so soon after Narcissa’s passing.”

Draco went stiff as a statue at the mention of his mother, and Harry’s heart ached for him.

“If Draco doesn’t return by the end of the week, Lucius will disown him publicly and thoroughly,” Dumbledore announced with gravitas.

The blond by his side gasped in shock. And Saturnine raised a surprised hand to cover her gaping mouth.

“Surely not!” Snape said, his low voice coming out in an almost growl.

Harry’s reaction was more demure; he wasn’t sure what ‘disown’ meant.

“He can’t?” Draco said. “Surely he can’t do that to me, can he?”

“I’m afraid that it is within Lucius’ purview as Head of the House of Malfoy,” Dumbledore said regretfully.

“But Draco is his only son and heir,” Saturnine said. “And Narcissa’s dead.”

“Lucius isn’t that old. He could remarry and have another son,” Dumbledore pointed out. “But I agree that it would be quite tasteless.”

“He’s more than enough of a bastard to do that,” Snape said, his voice scornfully dark. “Will we let him?”

“I’ve looked into it. But regretfully, there isn’t much any of us can do. Lucius has filed a valid request with what’s left of the Ministry. And it has been approved. No one can stop it going through but him, now.”

“Under what grounds?” Saturnine asked. “Does it cite a reason?”

Dumbledore looked pained as he replied, “Rebellious behaviour, mostly. Lucius stated that outside forces have corrupted his son to the point that he fears for his own life and would feel safer if he could sever any ties between the two of them.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Draco roared. “He’s the one who had me tortured and kidnapped, for Merlin’s sake.”

“Surely you can do something?” Saturnine asked Dumbledore.

“Draco is seventeen and, thus, considered an adult in the Wizarding World. So there’s very little about it Hogwarts can do—except open its doors to allow him to return for his seventh year, which is what we’ll do, of course.”

“And then what?” Draco demanded. “I’ll have nothing—not even a Knut to my name. What will I do? Where will I live?”

Harry could feel the blond growing agitated and feared a small explosion might happen soon. Reaching out for him on impulse, he placed a comforting hand on his forearm to quiet him. “We’ll figure something out, all right,” he said. “I’m sure everything’s going to be okay.”

Draco pushed his hand away forcefully before sitting up. “Don’t patronise me, Potter,” he spat out. “And don’t you dare say you understand a thing about what this means to me. I’m not like you. I don’t have hordes of friends ready to back me up.”

“Draco!” Saturnine warned, shooting to her feet. “Mind your tone.”

“Or what?” he scoffed. “You’ll cast me out, too?”

With that, the blond stormed from the room, disappearing down the corridor leading to their bedroom. Saturnine watched him go with a concerned expression before turning to face her brother. She glared at him reproachfully, which Harry understood meant ‘you could have at least said something.’

“I trust you will both look after him for what remains of the summer holidays?” Dumbledore demanded, not seeming to mind the way Draco had left.

Saturnine nodded. “Of course we will.”

“I’ll see if I can do more,” he said, getting to his feet tiredly. “But I don’t hold out too much hope. Lucius knows his way around legalities. And he’s got the right connections to make this happen.”

“Thank you for appraising us of the situation, Headmaster,” Severus said, his tone bleak.

There were no cheery goodbyes as Dumbledore took his leave. And a heavy silence descended upon their trio after he was gone.

“Can Mr Malfoy really do that?” Harry asked a while later. “Turn Draco into a penniless orphan, I mean.”

Saturnine nodded. “As horrible as it sounds—yes, he can. Draco will lose his title as heir to the House of Malfoy. And he will be considered a stranger by the lot of them. Much like Sirius Black was when he refused to follow his family’s ways.”

Harry felt a lump grow in his throat at the mention of his godfather. He remembered the ugly painting in the entrance of 12 Grimmauld Place and the insults Walburga Black kept throwing at her own son every chance she got.

“Don’t worry about it,” Saturnine continued. “We’ll see to Draco’s needs. He may have to get used to new standards. But he won’t miss out on anything.”

Harry nodded in relief, then, looking at the corridor. He wondered if the blond had had time to cool off yet. “Shouldn’t one of us go see if he’s okay?”

Saturnine shrugged her shoulders, and Harry turned to the man sitting next to him. His Potions professor had a grave look on his face. He looked torn between the urge to strangle Lucius Malfoy and the need to see to his godson’s safety. Once again, Harry was reminded of how human the taciturn man was. Underneath the frock coat and aloof exterior was someone he had never had a chance to meet before that summer.

“Would you like to go, sir?” Harry asked, thinking that it was the most appropriate course of action.

“I wouldn’t know what to say to him,” he said, gaze lost on the unlit fire.

His answer had been so soft-spoken that Harry wondered if he’d heard it right. And then the words sunk in, and he was surprised by the self-deprecating admission within them. Never once in a million years would he have thought he’d hear Professor Snape say something like that. And indeed, he wouldn’t, he realised. This hadn’t come from his emotionally closed-off teacher. It had been Severus’ words. And Harry finally understood that a distinction had to be made between the two personas.

Getting to his feet, he said, “I’ll go talk to him, then.” Saturnine gave him a thankful nod as he walked by, and he called over his shoulder in parting: “I’ll come get you if I need help, Severus.”

***

Draco wasn’t surprised Harry cast a Silencing Charm the instant he entered their bedroom.

“Are you okay?” he asked, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Never better,” Draco replied from where he’d sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Dumbledore’s gone,” he informed him. “He said he’d look into it some more, but he doesn’t think there’s much he can do. Your father’s apparently good at legal stuff, and—”

“Call him Lucius Malfoy,” Draco cut in. “Since he’s no longer my father, apparently.”

“Draco…”

“What?” he roared back, pushing to his feet and walking nervously to the bay window. The sun had begun to set on the horizon, he noticed.

“I’m sorry,” Harry offered. Wasn’t that generous of the goody two-shoes lion. Fat load of good a sorry did for him.

“Piss off, Potter,” he said as he tried hard not to be distracted by the reflection he saw in the pane of glass of a tall figure with platinum-blond hair—the Malfoy heir.

“You have a place here,” Harry said like he meant it.

“Here with what?” Draco sneered at the Gryffindor’s distant reflection. “The joke of a family that resides in this cottage? Wake up, Potter; it’s a mirage! Severus is only staying because he’s too weak to be on his own. And Saturnine—well, who knows why she rejoined the land of the living, but she sure as hell isn’t staying long.”

“You’re wrong!” Harry barked, and Draco sensed he’d hit a nerve.

He should have left their discussion to die a peaceful death. But he couldn’t help but verbally pounce on the lion instead. At that point, any distraction felt better than facing the feelings he could feel welling up inside of him. “Am I, though? Or are you that desperate to have anyone?”

“Shut up, Malfoy!” Harry warned.

“You’re pathetic,” he said, turning on his heel to face him.

“She loves me,” Harry protested with the coldest sneer he could muster.

“Does she now?” he crooned with his own contemptuous twist of the lips. “How lovely.”

“She’ll adopt me,” the other continued. “We’ve filled in the paperwork already.”

“Lucky you,” Draco muttered, fingers itching to reach for his wand and hex the lion into oblivion.

Harry’s words had been like a stab in the gut. Learning that Boy Wonder was getting adopted the same day he learned he’d been orphaned was a great way to wrap up an already bloody fucktastic summer. Needing someone else to hurt just so that he could feel a little better about his pathetic excuse of a life, he said, “Someone’s finally desperate enough to want you.”

Harry was on him in a flash, pouncing in a vulgar Muggle fashion—fists at the ready. Draco wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way in time. And Harry landed a sharp blow to his left cheek that had him seeing stars. His hand reached for the wand in his pocket while the Gryffindor readied for another swing.

Draco barely had time to shout, “Stupefy!” before the second punch hit him. “You’re a fucking wizard, Potter,” he roared at the frozen boy. “When will you learn to behave like one and use your wand?”

Draco rose a hand up to massage his tender cheek. Damn, that punch had hurt. Not as much as the gut-wrenching ache that threatened to tear him apart in the middle—but still. Heaving in some deep breaths, he passed a weary hand through his short hair. It was all getting too much, and he could barely breathe. He needed to get some fresh air and get away. He needed to think; he needed a plan.

No one would help him; he’d have to figure something out on his own. Fuck school, and fuck them all. He wasn’t going back; what would be the point? They could keep their tedious manuals and useless classes. His father may take his vaults and his name. But he still had a wand and his magic, and he’d figure something out. He would show them. He’d show them all—and his father to boot. He was a Slytherin, and he would find a way to rise from the ashes of his burned-out life.

Looking at Harry, who still stood by his bed with his arm frozen in mid-swing, he felt his resolve crumble. This summer had been nice, and he could have gotten used to that kind of life. No! he thought. It wasn’t for him; it had never been. Best to go away now and figure things out later.

“Take care, Harry. And don’t come looking for me,” he said before turning on his heel and striding out through the bay window that he pushed open.