Snape had been fairly decent the last few days, according Harry some degree of space as he studied the dark volumes, content to answer the occasional inquiry about one spell or another. He had no visitors, not even Slytherins, and when Harry was in his rooms, he felt almost as though he were in some isolated corner the rest of the world had long ago forgotten; he could almost forget the world in return.

He was not quite filled with the usual, all-pervasive dread on Sunday afternoon when he gathered up his books in the library for the journey to Snape's office for an Occlumency session. Snape had ordered him to practice clearing his mind the previous night, and he had actually made an attempt. An unsuccessful attempt, of course, but enough of one for him to enter Snape's office and face the Potions Master with only the slightest degree of trepidation.

"Potter," Snape greeted, drawing his wand. "Did you practice?"

"Yeah," Harry said, setting his books down in a chair and drawing his own.

Snape eyed him cynically. "We shall see."

Later, as he slumped in a chair to recover from an hour of Snape breaking into his mind, he watched idly as his professor removed a smoking vial of potion from the storage room adjoining the office.

"I must leave shortly to deliver this," Snape said, assessing his condition with a quick sweep of his dark eyes. "Do you require anything of me?"

"What is that?" Harry asked, wondering why the smoking concoction looked vaguely familiar.

"This?" Snape said lazily, trailing his dark eyes over to the goblet. A menacing gleam appeared in them. "It's Lupin's Wolfsbane."

"Oh. I'd forgotten."

Harry rubbed his forehead, making Snape frown.

"How is your scar, boy?"

Harry shrugged; it ached, but nothing worse than the usual. "It's fine. I don't think I need any of the Tranquility Draught today."

Snape looked him over with a clinical eye. "Your bruising is still evident. I have a salve that might help."

"No, thanks," Harry said. "It's almost healed, anyway."

Snape settled down across from him, watching him levelly. "I was informed that your brawl the other day was with Weasley. I believe I understand now your reluctance to curse him."

"It wasn't just because it was Ron," Harry said quickly. "I don't want to hurt anyone at Hogwarts."

He could tell the statement irritated the older man.

"I must commend your fine taste in friends," said Snape snidely. "The way I hear it, he accused you of a torrid love affair with Draco?"

Harry flushed. "Yeah, well you're one to talk about friends. Your best mate at Hogwarts was Lucius Malfoy."

Snape shot him an irritated look.

"I suppose he was my 'best mate'. But then again, I was not a celebrity," he drawled. "I did not have a bevy of admirers vying for the job. I would have exercised far more prudent judgment had my situation been different."

"Had your situation been different?" Harry echoed. "Well, how about your different situation right after Hogwarts, when you decided to pal around with a Dark Lord and his Death Eaters?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry regretted them; he knew he'd crossed a line, and he fully expected Snape to hex him for it.

But he found Snape watching him with a curious lack of emotion.

"I did not choose to follow the Dark Lord simply because I lacked companionship. You would have to be a Slytherin to understand the appeal of a friendship based upon mutual self-interest."

"The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," Harry threw out. "So try me."

Snape looked startled. "In my house?"

"I turned it down. But think-- you might've been stuck with the son of James Potter in Slytherin. Bet you would have loved that. "

"Oh, I might have derived some small measure of enjoyment," Snape said with a dark smile; his tone sounded rather ominous to Harry's ears. Before he could even shudder at the possible torments his first-year self might have endured, Snape added, "Very likely your presence in my house would have proved far more vexing for me than for you. You are an exceedingly meddlesome boy."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You would have expelled me the first chance you got. I'd probably be with the Dursleys now… But it might have been easier for you, knowing I was your son, if you'd also thought I was a Slytherin."

"Very likely," Snape said grudgingly, but Harry noticed he looked smug as he leaned back in his chair. "I always knew I could not have fathered a certified Gryffindor."

The words irritated Harry. Before he could rise up in his house's defense, though, Snape said, "I shall attempt to explain this to you, then: Lucius Malfoy and I were friends, in that our friendship fulfilled mutual requirements. As a student, I needed an influential ally in Slytherin House, and he needed an underling with a certain measure of cunning to support his prefecture. As an adult, he invited me into the Dark Lord's ranks and imbued me with a certain measure of status in their eyes; he required in return a powerful ally against his rivals within the ranks. Our friendship was based upon the fact that we fulfilled mutual needs. The dissolution of our friendship occurred when circumstances forced me to move openly against him. I realized then that I no longer required his goodwill to maintain my standing in the Dark Lord's circle."

"So that's why he tried to kill you," Harry said. "Friendship's over for a Slytherin when you don't need each other anymore, huh?"

"In part." Snape shot him a condescending glance. "Surely you can see why my actions this last holiday might have antagonized him."

"Well, obviously. You did cast the Cruciatus Curse on him."

"More than that, Potter. I humiliated him. I forcibly ejected him from my home, and I successfully defied his attempts to exert his absolute authority over my affairs as well as yours. There were several points of contention that arose between us. And my refusal to buckle to his will was the final aberration he could no longer tolerate."

Harry watched him curiously. The Professor Snape he'd always encountered in the classroom was a snarling, relentless authoritarian; he couldn't quite imagine Snape as someone else's stooge.

"Why did you go along with it so long?" Harry blurted out. Against his better judgment, he continued, "I just can't imagine you being the Greg Goyle to his Draco Malfoy, if you know what I mean."

Snape sent him a cold, slanted glance. "Or the Ronald Weasley to his Harry Potter?" he returned snidely.

Harry winced; trust Snape to hit the sore spot.

"Ron and I aren't like that," he snapped. "And you know that."

Especially not now.

"Don't look so offended. You deserve it for comparing my younger self to that dim-witted lout Goyle!" said Snape harshly.

Harry forced himself to be silent, hoping to avoid a confrontation.

Snape's tone grew bitter. "As for why… Well, boy, I had a gang of Gryffindors who thrived on tormenting me. I would have faced similar derision in Slytherin House, had I not won the favor of one of its most powerful members. I was unattractive, tactless, and far more intelligent than my peers, yet I possessed not the cunning to hide my awareness of it. Surely you can see why I was an object of ridicule. As arrogant and self-serving as Lucius Malfoy was, he spared me an even more intolerable seven years. I was happy being his minion; it was far more merciful than the alternative."

Sirius's taunt about Snape being Lucius Malfoy's lapdog floated into Harry's thoughts, and he cringed at it. He couldn't help thinking of Dudley and his gang, and he felt a pang of guilt for even bringing this all up.

"I understand... I do." He felt like he'd embarrassed Snape somehow, so taking a deep jagged breath, Harry offered, "Dudley and his gang used to beat me up, and anyone who tried to be friends with me. I guess if someone had been nice to me anyway, or if they'd, um, protected me somehow, I would've been pretty grateful, too."

He felt his cheeks heating up as he said it. He couldn't believe he'd just admitted that to Snape.

Snape's dark eyes still rested heavily upon him, and Harry winced inwardly, waiting for Snape to mock him. "The woes of our poor little celebrity…"

"Your relatives should not have allowed that to occur," Snape said evenly.

Harry couldn't believe what he'd heard; he barely dared to breathe. Snape's next words shocked him even more.

"And I certainly would never have allowed it."

He was overcome with an odd mixture of anxiety and embarrassment. Harry stared at his hand, clenched tightly over the edge of Snape's desk, and tried to ignore the feeling that all the dead, slimy things in Snape's jars were watching him closely.

"Lest you operate under a misconception," Snape said, in a decidedly louder voice that announced he was veering from this dangerous subject, "I would like to emphasize that I was not so sickeningly grateful to Lucius Malfoy that I became a Death Eater purely by his caprice. I do not wish you to leave here with that impression."

"I know," Harry said, surprised Snape would think that. "You also probably wanted to get back at James, right? Get revenge? And I bet being pureblood and having your father be such a-- being the way he was, you were probably brought up believing in that whole pureblood cause, too. And I guess you probably liked the power."

"Yes," Snape said in an odd tone. "Those were important factors."

Harry watched him intently, an idea burning its way into his mind, one he couldn't simply dismiss.

He knew he shouldn't ask about it… But he couldn't help it. Not this.

"Did my mother have something to do with your quitting? Did she change your mind about believing in Voldemort?" The words spilled out of him. "Did you feel something for her, even though she was a Muggle-born? I mean-- I know you said why she-- er, why she was with you. But, er, you never said why you decided to go along with it. And she did defend you in school…"

Harry trailed off at the dangerous glint in Snape's eyes.

"Wouldn't that be quaint," Snape sneered. "What a precious fairy tale-- your mother and father uniting in love… Your saintly mother, redeeming your ghastly father from his wretched misdeeds with the sweet nectar of her kiss."

Harry watched him with a sinking feeling.

"You're male, Potter," Snape said scathingly, "Surely you realize a hormonal virgin might willingly partake of an attractive female when she chooses to dispense her favors. And she was quite liberal in dispensing them."

Harry felt a hot rush of blood to his face. "You don't have to tell me anything more," he said through gritted teeth. "I get it."

"My defection had nothing to do with Lily Evans!"

He'd practically spat her name, and it occurred to Harry then in a sudden flash of insight that he'd touched upon a particularly sore point by mentioning his mother. The realization muted his own rising anger.

"As it happens, I was given a particularly unwelcome gift courtesy of the Dark Lord," Snape said, a vein on his forehead twitching furiously, "and my loyalties changed that very night. Your mother had no bearing upon my decision whatsoever."

"Okay, I believe you," Harry said quickly. "I really do. It wasn't about my mother."

Snape fell silent and glowered down at him.

"I won't mention her again, okay, Professor?"

Snape looked abruptly away.

"Now that you have wasted an excessive amount of my time with your prattle," he said coldly, grabbing the smoking Wolfsbane, "You must excuse me. I must give the werewolf his potion."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry." Harry gathered up his cloak as Snape waited impatiently, then trailed several feet behind Snape out the door and into the hall. "Tell Remus I said 'hi'."

Snape stopped suddenly in place, and sent Harry a very strange look. "You are speaking with him again?"

Harry shrugged, feeling inexplicably embarrassed about the whole thing. "Yeah. Lupin and me-- I guess we're going to try to work things through."

Snape then did a very odd thing. He sent an alarmed glance at the goblet in his hand, and suddenly vanished it with his wand.

"Professor?" Harry said, bemused.

"A-- an insect. In the potion." Snape looked at Harry with what he would swear was wariness. "I must retrieve another vial. Excuse me."

Without further adieu, Snape whirled around and started back for his office. Bemused, Harry turned and started off for Gryffindor.

* * *

Snape lingered as Lupin sipped at his Wolfsbane. The other man sensed his scrutiny and glanced up.

"Still here? Are you waiting for the poison to kick in, Severus?" Lupin joked weakly.

"No," Snape said, with regret.

"How is Harry holding up?" Lupin said quietly. "I heard they're bringing in a specialist from Malaysia for Hermione."

"My son is well," Snape said coldly, "Despite your best efforts."

Lupin looked up sharply. "Pardon me?"

Snape snarled, "I am aware of what you said to him… That you virtually accused him of killing Black himself."

Lupin paled, but he held his composure. "What I said to Harry was very unfair. I've apologized to him for it. I'm trying to make it up to him."

"I warned you not to breathe a word to him," Snape growled. "If the boy weren't so forgiving, I would have half a mind to lace your Wolfsbane with an expectorate."

Among other things…

Remus scrubbed his palm over his eyes, his exhaustion and guilt showing in the tired lines of his face. "And you'd be fully in your rights as a father to do so. I know I hurt him terribly. I truly do feel awful about it." He sighed, and opened his eyes again. "I will say, it forced me to come to terms with what happened to Sirius. And it won't happen again, Severus. I'll take a Wizard's Oath, if you'd like."

"That's fortunate… for you," Snape said dangerously. "I give you fair warning, Lupin, if you choose to so much as waggle your tongue in the wrong direction with that boy again, you will be in for an unpleasant surprise."

"And I'll deserve it," Remus said, watching him with a strange expression that almost resembled respect. "You know I never wanted to hurt Harry. I told you as much."

Snape grunted. Reluctantly, he remembered.

"He would have run right out into that battle, Severus. He would have been killed," Lupin whispered. "I was angry. Sometimes he just doesn't think things through."

His expression darkened, and Lupin looked to the far corner of the room, as though his gaze had been caught by some shadow in the distance.

"He didn't have an easy life before Hogwarts. I worry sometimes that he thinks of himself the way those Muggles did. He thinks he has to prove himself worthy of us. He doesn't realize that even if he doesn't save the day, we'll still care about him."

Snape started violently at Remus's words, at being so casually grouped in with the boy's horde of admirers, but the other man seemed oblivious.

"I'm afraid he'll take it too far one day, that he really will get himself killed." Lupin took another sip of his Wolfsbane, shuddering slightly at the taste. "And most of all, I'm afraid because he's not afraid of that himself."

Snape looked at Lupin sharply, suddenly wondering if Lupin somehow knew about what Harry had tried to do, how he'd nearly destroyed himself simply to kill Bellatrix Lestrange.

But then he realized-- no, Lupin did not know that. He just knew Harry.

An odd feeling stole into him. His jealousy still burned, for the werewolf understood so well that side of the boy he himself could never quite comprehend, yet at the same time there stirred an unfamiliar sense of kinship, knowing Lupin of all people shared his same fears, Lupin understood.

"The boy conducted an inappropriate liaison with Nymphadora Tonks," Severus said, not sure why he felt the need to tell the other man. Lupin's eyes widened in shock, as Snape continued, "Before she died, he'd convinced himself he was in love with her."

Lupin stared at him in disbelief. "I can't believe that."

"Oh, it's true," Snape said darkly. "I saw it in his mind."

He watched comprehension creep across Lupin's face, and added mercilessly, "He will not speak of it, but my guess is, your accusation coincided with the very day he lost the great love of his young life."

Lupin's expression crumpled. "Oh, Merlin, Harry…" He looked more devastated in that moment than Severus had ever seen him.

Snape smiled darkly, enjoying it. "Finish your Wolfsbane, Lupin."

Snape watched Lupin draw the vial to his lips with a trembling hand, and he knew then that the knowledge had just hurt him more than anything he could have slipped into his goblet.

* * *

"Severus. We must speak."

Snape glanced up from dinner the next night to find Dumbledore standing above him, a grim look on his face.

"Accompany me to my office," Dumbledore whispered, and waited for Snape to rise before heading for the door.

His expression was very grave, and Snape knew instantly he had some bad news. He found himself wondering suddenly if they'd lost another member of the Order. He hoped it was Moody.

"I've received some unfortunate news from the Ministry of Magic concerning a student in your house," Dumbledore said solemnly, lowering his ancient body into his chair. "I'd prefer you break the news to him before the Daily Prophet does."

"Who is it?" Snape asked, with new interest.

"Narcissa Malfoy was found dead this afternoon in her home," Dumbledore informed him, and Snape felt as though his blood had frozen in his veins. "She missed a social engagement last night. An employee from the Ministry is missing as well-- a Julian Noailles. They believe he might have had something to do with her death. He was last seen in the vicinity of her home a week ago."

"He's dead," Snape said instantly, and knew it to be true. "It was Lucius. He must have concealed the body to throw suspicion off himself. He killed them both."

At Dumbledore's searching look, Snape supplied, "They were having an affair."

And he remembered vividly the last time he'd seen Lucius, when both he and Bellatrix had taunted the man regarding his wife's conduct. He fully understood now the look on the other man's face, when it had become one taunt too many.

"What is more humiliating? The inadequacy that drove your wife from you, or the passive acceptance you evince towards her taking another lover?"

Lucius must have gone on to murder his wife that very night.

In his memory danced an image of a young Lucius and Narcissa grinning at each other over their wands. Lucius had always let her win when he faced her in the Slytherin house duels. It had irritated Severus to no end, for his position as the other boy's lackey had obligated him to always bet upon Lucius. Whenever he'd complained, though, Lucius had waxed sentimental about it being 'the price of love, dear friend.'

Snape knew then with cold certainty that they were in the final stretch of their enmity. Lucius had murdered his own wife-- a wife he'd dearly loved-- and he would blame Severus for it. He would not rest until he'd killed Severus, killed Septimus. This was a declaration as final as if he'd written it on a scroll and signed it with his blood.

"That is not the version you will be telling Draco," Dumbledore said solemnly, watching him. "The Ministry believes it was a one-sided infatuation. You must not tell him otherwise."

"Why?" Snape said. "It's common knowledge among the Death Eaters. He's bound to find out anyway."

"Because a sixteen-year-old boy has just lost his mother," Dumbledore said, his voice cold. "I will not have you compound that grief, not until it's necessary."

"I see," Snape said sarcastically. "You're sparing him the pain of knowing the truth." He whipped around and started for the door. "The boy's not as smart as his father, but he's no fool. He'll figure it out. He'll hear whispers."

"Not from you, I trust," Dumbledore said sternly.

Snape looked back at him, his expression cold. "I will be… gentle with him. But I find it odd you'd prefer the boy continue loving and admiring the father who just murdered his mother."

"As long as Lucius remains a fugitive, and Draco remains within our jurisdiction," Dumbledore said, "It will only serve to hurt him further, knowing what Lucius has done. Allow the boy a period to mourn. Then we will find some way to tell him the truth."

Snape silently cursed Dumbledore for his ridiculous compassion, his need to shelter even the worst sort of children.

However angry it made him, though, he was unaccustomed to defying the Headmaster. "We will continue to monitor young Mr. Malfoy, then?" he asked stiffly.

"I've already assigned a team of Order members to guard him during the funeral."

Snape's heart lurched violently in his chest. "You are allowing him to leave?"

"I cannot justify preventing a boy from attending his mother's funeral," Dumbledore said in tone clearly meant to calm him. "The family has requested Draco be unescorted; they wish this to be a private, family affair. The Order members will be exercising utmost discretion, concealing their presence."

Snape saw it suddenly, Lucius's entire plan stretching out before him. Lucius had killed Narcissa in more than just the height of passion; it was an act of the coldest calculation. He knew there was no excuse so cast-iron as the death of a parent to draw a son from the safety of Hogwarts. He knew Narcissa's family would not want the likes of Severus or aurors around to bungle their private mourning. He'd done this all to get his hands back on his son again.

There was a horrible, dropping sensation in his stomach. "You realize why he's doing this," Snape said, his voice hoarse. "You realize if that boy escapes our hands, Harry and I-- we'll both--"

"I will do my utmost to ensure that does not happen," Dumbledore pledged softly, leaning closer. "But I cannot forbid his departure. The Ministry would intervene. And I cannot ignore the wishes of the family."

They shared a long look, in which Snape realized suddenly why Dumbledore looked so grave, and he realized just how helpless their position was. Everything they'd done to secure Draco had been unofficial, beneath the sight of the Ministry of Magic. This was one situation where they could not exert their efforts to shield Draco from Lucius to their fullest.

"You must permit me to tell him the truth," Snape said vehemently. "He must know."

"Will it change anything, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. His blue eyes were soft with compassion, his voice almost sad. "Would he desert his father if he knew the truth?"

And Snape remembered suddenly the adoring, almost fanatical gleam in those gray eyes with the boy spoke of his father, the absolute devotion inspired by years of strident conditioning. Lucius had raised Draco to worship his father, and Draco would never turn from him. Not even on account of his mother.

"No," Snape said with a sinking feeling of dismay.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Then let us not shatter one more spirit than we must."

* * *

Draco looked grumpy, his blonde hair uncharacteristically disheveled with Snape summoned him down from the Slytherin dorms. He considered bringing the boy into his chambers, but opted instead for his office, fearing to show Draco his personal space.

He explained carefully the ministry account of events, watching shock suffuse Draco's pale face.

"I am deeply sorry, Draco," Snape said softly. "The Headmaster will be escorting you to the Hogwarts Express in the morning, where your relatives will be waiting."

The boy seemed too shocked to speak. When Snape departed to his office and returned with a Tranquility Draught, hoping to subdue the boy before any unwholesome outbursts, he drank it automatically.

Watching Draco's pale Adam's apple bob as he drained it sent a dark idea crawling into Snape's mind, one he couldn't immediately dismiss.

Gradually the boy laid his head down, closing his eyes. Silent tears trickled out from between his lids and dribbled onto the desk.

Snape rose as silently as a black wraith from the confines of his chair and glided into the back of his office, his eyes running over the potions in his cabinets, lighting upon a metallic gray vial.

Absynia. Why else had he formulated it, if not for a situation such as this?

He stole a glance at Draco, lost in his grief at the desk, and then considered the vial again.

He would need to brew a new batch. He was still uncertain how long a dormant batch remained potent. It would take all night; he'd be lucky if it cooled in time. But once Draco had ingested at least a few sips, well… There would be no question of Lucius's compliance. Lucius would risk many things for a victory, but he would not risk his son. And only with Severus's help-- his careful application of counter-poisons-- could he ensure Draco's survival from week to week.

Snape quietly gathered the ingredients, occasionally glancing at Draco to ensure the boy was still oblivious to him. Draco, however, had no interest in what Severus was doing. He curled up into a small ball in the chair and rested his pointed chin on his knees, tears still coursing their way down his cheeks.

"I have some brewing to catch up upon, Draco. Tell me if you need anything," Snape told him. "It might be best if you stayed here for the night. I will conjure you a more comfortable chair."

"I'm fine," Draco mumbled, but he didn't bother objecting when the desk chair morphed into a luxurious easy chair. He merely curled deeper into the cushions, looking small and very lost.

"Would you like something to read? Anything to eat or drink?" Snape asked, hoping to brew uninterrupted.

"No," Draco said faintly. "I'm fine."

"Very well. There is another Tranquility Draught on the desk if you need it. Or a Cheering Formula, in the top drawer. Use them at your discretion."

He watched Draco cast a listless glance towards the desk before his head slumped back down onto the arm of the chair.

Snape left him there, staring at the wall with tears trickling down his cheeks, and brewed the poison to end his future.

* * *

"Draco-- wake up."

Draco's eyes slipped open, and he glanced bleakly around the room. Snape watched him with what he hoped was a kind expression-- he wasn't very good projecting compassion.

"It's nearly seven thirty. The Headmaster will be down here shortly to collect you," Snape said, watching the devastation steal into Draco's eyes when he fully understood it hadn't all been a bad dream. "I thought you might like something to eat first."

Draco shook his head. "No, I-- I'm fine." He choked on the words, and tears welled in his eyes.

"At least have something to drink. I'm certain you're parched," Snape said softly, reaching out and stroking his blond hair in a comforting gesture. "Pumpkin juice? Tea?"

The blonde boy stared at him blankly for a long moment, and wanting to hurry things along, Snape said, "I think it shall be pumpkin juice, if you have no objection."

Draco shrugged noncommittally, but Snape felt confident now that he'd drink whatever he put before him. He stroked the boy's hair again with seeming affection, remembering how he'd seen Lucius do this very thing to Harry.

"However dark the cloud, Draco," he whispered, smirking inwardly at how ridiculous he sounded, "there's always a silver lining. You will be a stronger person for this in the end."

The boy nodded mechanically beneath his hand, and Snape offered him a fond smile, then rose to his feet.

The potion had nearly finished cooling just a few minutes earlier, and he'd already ladled out a vial, allowing it to finish cooling on its own. He closed the door separating him from Draco, and waved his wand to conjure a glass of pumpkin juice. He reached for the Absynia, when a sudden movement behind him made him jump violently.

"Hey!" Harry whispered, slipping his cloak off and bunching it in his hand.

Snape stood frozen in place, his hand poised in front of the potions collection. He felt like someone had just placed his heart in a vice and squeezed it; he couldn't breathe. Harry was here. Harry had been here. Harry had seen.

His son stood before him, staring at him as though he'd never seen him before. Snape was paralyzed under those green eyes, horrified to the depths of his being at just what Harry knew about him now. Whatever he'd thought of Snape before, he would never forgive him for this; if he'd thought of Snape as a monster before, he knew it now.

And Severus realized, in his heart, that even if he screamed, This was for YOU. This was ALL for YOU, you stupid boy! Harry would still never excuse it. He would never forgive him for this.

Torturing Lucius Malfoy was one thing. Planning the murder of Lucius's sixteen-year-old son was infinitely worse. And Harry would recognize that potion. He would know exactly what Snape was going to do.

Harry was still staring at him with that odd expression, and Snape realized with a deep, churning feeling of sickness that there was nothing he could do now to change this. His hand dropped to his sides. He felt those green eyes were penetrating into the very depths of his soul and finding nothing but waste.

"Say what you're going to say, Potter," he said resignedly.

"I came--" Harry said, gesturing with a wave of his cloak, still watching Snape intently, "I forgot my, er, my Transfiguration textbook last night. And I wanted to get it before class. I saw--"

He gestured helplessly in Draco's direction, never taking his eyes from Snape.

But there was no condemnation in them when Severus dared to read their depths. No disgust. Something else, something that had never been directed at him before.

"I didn't mean to spy on you. I meant to get out, but he woke up and I couldn't just open the door… But anyway, I-- er, I just wanted you to know," Harry said a bit breathlessly, "That I think it's a really good thing you're doing for Draco in there."

Snape stared at him, feeling a strange sensation like his brain had just grown light. "What?"

Harry smiled a bit tentatively then, and the warmth in his eyes made Severus's head whirl.

"With everything that's happened with Lucius, it's really decent of you to be so nice to Draco. What with his mum and all… I saw it in the paper." Harry shrugged, then pulled his cloak halfway on again. "I just wanted you to know."

Severus couldn't speak. His son was still looking at him with that same expression, the one he wore when he looked at Lupin. When he'd looked at Black.

"Also," Harry said, closing his eyes briefly and drawing a jagged breath as though mustering his courage, "I know-- I realize you've done a lot for me. After T-- T-- after Tonks--" his voice faltered as though her name hurt him, "You saved my life, you took care of me. Again."

Harry swallowed hard, and glanced towards the door separating them from Draco.

"I should have realized it earlier. You've-- you've really been looking out for me, haven't you? I'm sorry I didn't appreciate it." Harry fixed him with a steady gaze. "But I will."

Snape could not have spoken if he tried. It seemed that any words he forced from his lips would extinguish the warmth kindling in his son's eyes, expose all in him that was vile, show him for the hypocrite he was. And suddenly now that Harry was looking at him with that same affection he'd always reserved for others, for those he loved, Severus could as easily tear his own heart from his chest as destroy it.

So he said nothing, trapped in his hypocrisy. He watched silently as Harry smiled, and pulled the invisibility cloak back over his head.

"If you just open the door, I'll try to sneak out without him hearing me," said Harry's voice in front of him. "Sorry for talking so long. Were you going to give him a potion?"

A potion.

Snape's heart thudded in his chest, and he turned mechanically to the potions lined neatly before him.

"A calming draught," he heard his voice say, ringing hollowly in his ears. He watched his hand close around a clear vial, bypassing the metallic gray poison altogether. He watched as he poured it deliberately into the pumpkin juice, and swirled it about with a slight shake of the cup.

He pushed open the door, and heard Harry's footsteps softly padding behind him. His heart felt like it was twisting in his chest, and even after he set the goblet before Draco's sightless eyes, and opened the door to 'get some air', he felt uneasy as though Harry still lurked somewhere in the room with them.

For all he knew, Harry did.

Snape felt tense and on edge. He glanced towards the open door to the hallway. Had the boy left or not? How was he to know?

He could hear Draco swallowing the pumpkin juice. There was still time. Still a world of time. He'd simply give Draco the draught. He'd lie about what it was… He'd force-feed him if he had to… Just as long as he knew that Harry was gone…

And suddenly the Headmaster appeared in the open doorway, his eyes alighting upon Draco.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," he said, "Are you ready to go?"

Draco looked up dully and nodded his head. He rose to his feet and serenely pulled his coat back on. The Headmaster's gaze fell to the goblet. Snape stared at the floor, furious with himself.

He felt Dumbledore's eyes rest upon him, searching his expression gravely. He met Dumbledore's gaze challengingly, almost as furious with the Headmaster as he was with himself.

Don't look at me like that, you old coot! You know what I am, you left him with me. You KNEW what I would do!

But when it came down it, he hadn't done it. And the realization made him sick with horror.

Dumbledore rested his hand on Draco's shoulder as the boy passed, and sent Severus another searching look before disappearing with the boy down the corridor.

Snape stared bleakly at the half-empty goblet of pumpkin juice, and he knew then he'd made a fatal mistake.

And he had. Draco vanished on his way to the funeral. The boy was reported missing by his relatives, spirited away by 'persons unknown'.

Lucius had his son back. Severus knew that it was only a matter of time.

He'd made a mistake, letting Draco go free. And he'd killed them both.