Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
Again, sorry for the long wait.
Ch 13: And from Bad to Worse it Goes


"I think we should tell the professor."
"We can't Dean, not yet." Draco insisted,
"It'll be worse if he comes back and demands to know why his son is not in the catacombs... you know it's the first place he'll go."
"I'll meet him at the gates if it comes to that," he insisted, adding "three weeks won't matter that much," with a final tone. They had not made much leeway in figuring out the Phoenix, though both were now confident that it was, indeed, Horris. Dean had told him after seeing how the wards and Pazur reacted to a sample of the Phoenix's blood, justifying Draco's worst fears. It hurt to realize what lengths Dumbledore was willing to go to, no matter how distrustful Draco had been of the Headmaster from the start.

"He moved last night," Dean offered, Draco still not up to going into that room each day.
"Moved?" The Phoenix, for Draco still held onto the sliver of hope Horris had not been so violated, had not woken, moved or eaten since his capture three days ago. The lack of nourishment did not seem to weaken him, nor could Dean or he force the unconscious figure to absorb nutrients in any form. Essentially, the Phoenix was a corpse in all but respiration.
"Not much," Dean qualified, "but he did roll over."
"Still, that's-"
"And Susan said she heard noises from this part of the Manor last night."
"What kind of noises?"
"Zack blamed it on the girl being a Hufflepuff, of course, but Susan insisted we ask the Professor if the Manor has any ghosts in that area."
"I thought Zack was over the house rivalry stuff..."
"He was teasing, Draco... even Susan laughed it off."
"Ah," he acknowledged vaguely, thankful for one less thing to deal with.
"Still, that means he made noise, too."

"We need to get to the bottom of this, Dean. Soon."
"I think he's absorbing power," Dean offered.
"The wards did waver last night," Draco contemplated, nodding.
"You think he drained the wards?" To directly absorb magic... it was...
"Let's go see him," He decided, his perturbation with it all forced to the back of his mind. It was Horris there, it would be too easy if it was not... and nothing came easy to them, or Horris.
"You have an idea?"
"The beginnings of one, at best," he admitted, getting out of his chair.
"More than I've got," Dean laughed offhandedly, following.
As soon as they walked into the relatively barren room, Draco felt the difference. The figure was certainly gaining power. Perhaps the wards had drained him? Was that why he collapsed right after Draco had apparated them through? He cautiously walked up to the bed, eyes locked on the headboard rather than the Potter-esq face.

"He looks peaceful, at least... like he's resting," Dean murmured from behind him, to which he automatically and half-consciously replied;
"No. It's a mask." It was all a mask; a part of the Potter face. A quality painted on by Dumbledore. He was looking at the face now, the rounded boyish features like a blow to the gut. It all screamed of injustice to him... that all the marks that Horris received from all that he had survived were so simply painted over and negated. It was as if all Horris did and suffered had been a lie. Still, he trailed a hand behind the boy's ear, feeling for their mark.
"It's not there, I checked."
"Whatever is making him look like this is certainly thorough, to hide this, too." Draco said, annoyed at how convoluted the situation was. It wasn't Polyjuice potion- there was no one who looked like this alive. Glamours were not solid; they only disguised how one looked. Transfiguration? That took a lot of power, but Dumbledore certainly had enough of that. To keep them up, however, required the innate magic of whatever person or thing it was put upon to be permanent and the dead had no magic... it would drain even Dumbledore to reset it every few days.

"I wish Blaise was here," Draco sighed, finally, "I don't think anyone could have unraveled transfiguration like him." Then, after a moment to clear his head, "I think we need to deplete his magic."
"That would kill him."
"He's dead, Dean. He died over six months ago."
"He's breathing!"
"Don't hope for miracles, Dean," he warned roughly, already walking away. He was becoming too aggravated for this... he was certain he would end up doing things he would later regret if he had to deal with much more of it now. Merlin help him, he was getting all wound into this. Death of the living, living bodies he dared not think of as anything more... he wondered how much more of it he could handle. How much longer he could bear it all, and how long he could keep making the others bear all this. He saw no end to it; no thinning enemy forces, nowhere to flee to from the dark or any way to keep the others from also being sucked into danger repeatedly.

"Draco!" he heard Dean call him back, the voice making him stop and turn in the hallway,
"I'll be in my room if anyone needs me," he answered, 'though I hope no one does' not needing vocalization. The interruption to his slippery train of thought did give him the needed pause to pull his mask back in place. No need to worry the others.
"Speak to the Vampire sometime before dinner," Draco instructed after taking another moment to solidify the mask, "I have heard bloodsuckers know a way to drain a body of things other than blood, and probably have a better understanding of death and ways to escape it than anyone else. He might know what we're dealing with here. See if he'll cooperate... he seems the least antagonistic when dealing with you, and tell me if he's willing to help." He was not sure if any good would come of it, but he would certainly rather deal with a vampire than get an Asp into the know about their dilemma.

He left his friend there, knowing he had treated him far more harshly than he should. He needed some time to himself though, time to figure out just what was going on. Thoughts of his Alpha kept assaulting him; memories, feelings and past misconceptions. He hoped he could figure things out once left alone long enough, in his room, but instead Morpheus called him as soon as Draco caught sight of his pillow. It was odd, how tired he felt lately, Asps not needing much sleep in the first place. Still, as soon as he let himself be claimed by the calm, he knew it was unlikely he would make it down to dinner.

When he woke, forcing back the images that had assaulted his sleep, he knew his earlier assessment had been right. A quick time spell declared it to be closer to midnight than dinner, nearly an hour after the 10-o'clock shift change. Dean was busy, then... he would speak with him after breakfast as far as what the Vamp had said. Unfortunately, despite the long nap, Draco woke seemingly more tired than before... drowsy and drained. His dreams had been fixated on the disaster of days past and old woes... deaths, pain, and mourning. His fears and assumptions kept running in circles in his mind, unable to latch onto any one possibility.

Knowing sleep would do him little good, if he was able to catch any more at all, Draco set out to his study without worrying anyone. The elves would know, or would as soon as he ordered tea, and that was enough if anyone was looking for him. He called them to start a fire in the hearth as soon as he entered, looking slowly around the room he had often occupied without truly seeing it. Beyond the different color scheme, the study was not overly different from that of his- from Lucius's in Malfoy Manor... the one he had often been called into to be disciplined or chastised as a child. The small difference seemed to change the feel of the room entirely. It was organized but not overly stiff, elevated but not overbearing; stable not scary. Although he never wanted to go into Lucius's study... he had come to be quite fond of the Professor's one here.

He began pacing without realizing it, not fully able to escape the weight of his choices, even here. Perhaps especially here.
Severus Snape.
He owed the man so much... and yet he kept questioning himself on possible ways of keeping him out of the loop as he had managed to do thus far. It was not fair to the Professor, Draco knew, but would telling him not be more cruel?
Yes, he was nearly certain the Phoenix they had captured was their Horris.
Yes... as far as Draco could tell, the Phoenix's body (at least) was alive.
But, and it was an awfully big but, he could not even begin to hope anything beyond the body had been reanimated. The body was warped and disfigured, too, and Merlin willing, what Draco was planning would revert the Phoenix to Horris' appearance in death . How cold-hearted would he have to be to tell the Professor that the Phoenix, a living weapon, was Horris... only to kill him once more?

The problem, this dilemma, he now understood to be precisely why Malfoys did not hold anyone equal to them by default. At least that way, they never had to explain themselves on anything they did or failed to do. Unfortunately, for Draco, he had stopped trying to be a model Malfoy long ago. He rubbed the now-familiar scar behind his ear, a habit he had developed while trying to fill Horris's shoes, absently wondering how a thing so small could have caused his life to change so much. This, inevitably, had lead to the reminiscence of how most of said changes were due more to Horris and his friendship than Draco's status as an Asp... though being an Asp certainly facilitated the friendship's dynamics.

Horris was the best thing that had (or ever had or ever) happened to Draco, he readily admitted, a leader that cherished his subordinates instead of subjugating them. Draco remembered realizing the full implications of being an Asp- of not being Alpha. He remembered the dread of knowing some unknown stranger would have the power to not only kill him on a whim, but to order Draco to do it himself.
However, Horris was the opposite of Voldemort and Draco's father. He was a friend, then a leader, and Draco had thrived under his guidance and protection. It made Horris's absence all the more painful, for Draco as well as the others, and left the blond with some very big shoes to fill.

A knock diverted Draco from his mind's wanderings, a quick glance at the grandfather clock proclaiming the hour approaching four in the morning.
"Enter."
"The elves said you'd be here..." Dean told him before walking in, "I'm not interrupting, I hope?"
"No," he answered simply, his mind still half lost in the past.
"You weren't at dinner."
"I overslept."
"Yeah, I figured... listen, I wanted to talk to you about the Vampire."
"You've spoken to him, then?" Draco asked, motioning Dean to have a seat as he settled himself to the one behind the desk.
"I have."
"And?"
"He wants to see the Phoenix first... and..."
"And?" Draco prompted, slightly worried by Dean's hesitation.
"And he wants to taste him."
"Taste him," he repeated slowly, careful not to sound too incredulous.
"His blood, said a vial would be enough."
"Why?"
"He said he could taste things in the blood; a whole slew of potions and residuals from spells..."
"This vamp seems awfully forthcoming with information all of a sudden, Dean," Draco noted slowly, "I'm not sure how I feel about his newfound willingness to help his captors." Draco had assumed the Vampire would be hesitant at best, with all the Asps had done to keep him confined. Nosferatu were a proud race, if solitary, and should not be so easily swayed.

"Well, he did smell his blood on me after I had brought him to that room," Dean told him, "maybe he's as curious about what happened as we are?"
"I still don't like it... especially when it involves loosening his shackles."
Letting him see Horris (or whomever or whatever the Phoenix was) presented a gaping security flaw that the Vamp would be stupid as hell not to take full advantage of. Vampires were not known to be stupid.
"You did want his help, Draco," Dean reminded him, "I don't know any other way to solve this."
"We can bring the body to him instead, I suppose,"
"I'm more worried about the Phoenix waking in transit than the Vampire being set free," Dean countered, "And the Phoenix is waking."
"All the more reason to transfer him to the dungeons permanently."
"I'd hate for Horris to wake up in a cell."
"He's not Horris." Draco growled, the idea as painful now as when he first looked onto the Potter mask, "Horris wouldn't have killed his Asps. Horris is dead."

"We'll furnish a cell, then," Dean finally agreed after a shocked silence, apparently understanding how painful the situation was to him. And for that Draco was extremely thankful... only Dean and Hermione could read his moods nowadays. Hermione. Hermione would be back in a little while.
"When is everyone coming?" he asked, veering slightly off topic, "I want him moved beforehand."
"Remus will try to drag your cousin Sirius over in two weeks... you know when Hermione and the Professor are coming better than anyone. Are you going to take up the vampire's offer?"
"If he gives me his name, yes." Draco knew how intimate a Vampire's name was to him- how heavily protected. To have that was to hold the vampire's very identity as insurance. A thing more precious to the beasts than blood. With his name, Draco would trust him... to this extent at least.
"I'll try to see if he'll agree. If not-"
"If he won't, we'll deal with the options left to us," Draco cut him off, "but tell him I'll be willing to give him more leeway were he to agree."
"More leeway?"
"Let him think on what I mean himself. It will make the offer more appealing."

He was treading on thin ice, he knew; keeping the Phoenix from the others, making deals with a captive vamp and so on... but he had to. He knew no other way to face it all. No other way to protect them all and resolve these hardships with which they were faced.
"I'll need help to move the Phoenix," Dean finally stated,
"I'll help tomorrow night- it's nearly time for everyone to gather for breakfast, and someone is more likely to notice us during the day."
"Must we really move him?"
"Or ward his room more and walk the Vamp to and fro..."
"Wouldn't that be safer though? Especially if you have his name?" Dean pushed,
"Safer how?"
"The others know about him, at least. That he's finally earning his keep will probably make them less annoyed that we're keeping him, too," Dean pointed out, "and most ignore him enough anyway not to ask for any particulars..."
"I still think it would be better to shorten how long the V-"

A loud knock made Draco stop his argument, something about the rushed, forceful thumps making the hairs on the back of his neck stand and his muscles tense. Dean must have felt it, too, already moving to answer the door.
"Zack?"
"I heard Draco was here..." the Asp said in a rush, "I need to find him."
"I'm here," he chimed in, Dean moving to let him face the other Asp, "what is it?"
"There's been an attack."
"No." Draco said with finality, "We can't interfere this time... let Dumbledore handle it on his own for once." Most of his Asps were still burned out from when they fought the Phoenix, a good deal of them still nursing their wounds. Draco's leg still pulsed in pain if he pushed himself too far, and Dean's side was still healing from a fire spell. He knew the Asps wanted to fight and did far more against Voldemort than Dumbledore's Order... especially now that they had pulled his Phoenix out of action. Still, he would not let his Asps – Horris' Asps – hurt themselves before even having a chance to heal for some strangers.
"But-"
"I said no. We're too tired and wounded to-" Draco began, stopping only because Zack ignored him and said three words that made the blond's blood run cold and Dean's face grow impossibly pale.
"It's the Grangers."


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