While the other Slytherins were away at dinner that night, Draco sat alone in the Common Room. Although he knew he was alone, Draco kept looking around, worried that some useless little first year would come barging out of their rooms, having fallen asleep or something or would burst through the portal having forgotten a book. But as it was, the blond found himself alone, and he was grateful for it.

Scanning the room one last time, Draco knelt down by the fireplace and held his breath, looking at the clock. It was almost ten after seven. All he had to do now was wait.Suddenly, the fire leapt to life in green flames.

Startled, the young Slytherin reeled back not wanting to get burned. But all too soon he realized what was going on and schooled his expression as he beheld the face of his father in the flames.

“Draco,” came the drawl of Lucius Malfoy.

“Hello, Father,” the boy responded.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at his son, before he looked around the room with a disgusted sneer. “Things seem to have gone downhill since my time at Hogwarts,” he scoffed. “But that matters little at the moment. Did you get my message this morning? How are things?”

For just a moment, Draco wished that his father was simply asking him how he was doing in school, or if he was having any trouble with anyone. But he knew better than that. “Yes, I got it,” he said simply. “And things are going…”

“What’s wrong?” Lucius demanded.

“It’s just that…well, Potter’s my roommate,” the young wizard decided to confide in his father, “and Moody’s here and—”“

Moody?” the older Malfoy said sharply. “He is still there?”

“Yes,” Draco nodded. “But—”

The older wizard glared his son into silence before he turned away slightly, looking thoughtful. He seemed to be thinking back a long time ago. “I had thought that he would get himself sacked by now,” Lucius said slowly. “But then Dumbledore is in charge of the school,” he growled. “What else?”

“Well, things are still terrible and Potter’s a terrible roommate—”

“Potter is rooming with you?” Lucius frowned, as though he had not even heard anything his son had been telling him only moments ago. “Ah, yes. I believe your mother said something about that. You wrote to us a while back, didn’t you?”

Disappointment coursed through the young Slytherin, disappointment and bitterness. Had his letters really meant so little to his father? Was his mother the only one that loved him anymore? His father used to write to him too, used to talk to him, would give him advice, would show some sort of concern for him. Now, it seemed Lucius didn’t care two knuts for his son. Draco wished that things were simple again, like when he was younger, and his father could actually love him…

“Yes,” the boy said out loud to his father. “I did.”

“I had thought so,” Lucius nodded. “But tell me, Draco, what about Snape?”

Knowing all too well what his father was really thinking, Draco decided to play dumb. “What about him?” After all, he was a Slytherin, and he could play the manipulation game. He wanted specifics. He wanted to know just what was going on, or at least get some idea about what his father was thinking and planning.

“What is he doing?” the older Malfoy snapped, becoming impatient with his son. “He cannot approve of Moody being in the castle. How has he taken to the news of the ex-auror teaching there?”

“He and some of the other professors are furious with Dumbledore,” Draco admitted. “McGonagall and Snape seemed to be championing against the Headmaster.”

Lucius gave a bark of a laugh, startling his son. “That was a foolish move on Snape’s part,” the Death Eater sneered. “You tell me the moment that old fool Dumbledore sacks Snape. I want to be right there when that traitor leaves the castle.”

The nasty smile on Lucius’s face made Draco want to squirm. Draco did not like it when his father looked like that. He did not like his father parading around the image of the glorious Death Eater, the cruel, wicked murderer. He missed the way his father used to be, how Lucius would actually act like a father instead of a drill instructor. He missed talking to his father about the little things. Now all Draco did was play spy for Lucius.

It had only been the last several years or so when Lucius had started back in on campaigning for the Dark Lord again. The older Malfoy used to be caring and thoughtful…at least where his family was concerned. Draco could still remember his father teaching him all about the Malfoy history and telling him that he should be proud of his lineage, that he was superior because he was pure and to never let anyone of lower status reign over him. Well, as far as Draco could make out, Lucius was lowering himself and disgracing the family by being the Dark Lord’s servant. After all, wasn’t the Dark Lord just some demented half-blood?

But those happy memories seemed to be gone now. Lucius no longer seemed to care about teaching his son about the family history, or about the finances of the Manor. The only thing the older Malfoy seemed concerned about at the moment was bringing back the Dark Lord and serving him. It just did not seem right for a Malfoy to serve anyone…

“Yes, Father,” Draco said quietly, not letting on his inner thoughts.

“Is there anything else I should know, Draco?” Lucius probed. “Has anything else happened?”

“Well…the Triwizard Tournament is coming up soon,” the boy shrugged.

Lucius scowled. “Do not shrug, Draco,” he scolded. “But the Tournament? I had forgotten about that. When are the other schools arriving?”

“Soon,” the boy answered quickly. “I’m not exactly sure when, but I think it’s next week. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out,” Draco amended the moment he saw his father’s glower.

“Very good,” the older Malfoy nodded. “Now, get to dinner before you’re missed. And remember, you will inform me if anything significant happens.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco nodded.

“Good.”

Without another word, Lucius Malfoy was gone, leaving his son feeling rather hurt. Draco got up and angrily put out the flames. He knew that his housemates would complain after dinner about it being cold in the Common Room and would more than likely seek out whoever had distinguished the fire, but he did not care at the moment. It gave Draco satisfaction to see the flames that had once contained his father’s head die. But with nothing else to do, the blond walked out of the room and towards the Great Hall for dinner.

~*~

After dinner, his father escorted Harry back to his room just as the Potions Master had planned. The boy noticed that his father seemed rather distracted, troubled even, but as to what, Harry was certain that man would not say. The former Gryffindor had been around Snape long enough to know that the other wizard was trying to hide his feelings, but Harry had picked up the Potions Master’s moods and tells. For instance, his father’s lips were slightly pouted and there was just the barest hint of a frown, indicating his worry. Harry doubted anyone else could have told that the Head of Slytherin was distressed, but he could, and he wished that he knew what it was that was troubling his father so much.

The two Slytherins were starting their descent into the dungeons when someone behind them called out. “Harry!”

Harry turned around to see Hermione and a terrified Neville walk over to him. “Hi!” he called with a smile. Although he didn’t have many friends anymore, Harry was still glad that these two had stuck by him.

“What do you want?” Snape snapped, glaring down at the two Gryffindors before him.

Neville shrank back, obviously still frightened by the Potions Master. Hermione, on the other hand, looked determined not to let the Professor intimidate her…at least not too much. “We just wanted to talk to Harry,” the little witch smiled uneasily. “We wanted to ask him to go to the library with us tonight.”

Before Harry could answer, Snape stepped in. “Mr. Potter cannot this evening. Now leave.”

The rude rebuttal left Harry annoyed with his father, and he looked apologetically over at his friends. “Maybe tomorrow night?” he shrugged.

It was clear that Hermione was none too happy with Snape for making Harry’s decision for him, but she also seemed to accept his decision as he was her elder and professor. “Sure. Have a good night, Harry,” she smiled. Harry was taken by surprise when she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

Neville just patted Harry on the shoulder, still eyeing Snape warily. “See you tomorrow, Harry,” the other boy smiled kindly before he and Hermione walked away, turning back to wave at their friend.

Harry waved back, smiling, but once his friends were gone, he frowned. He really missed being with them all, hanging out in Gryffindor Tower, playing Exploding Snap instead of doing homework. Ron was always good at procrastinating, and he missed his best friend a lot. Idly, Harry wondered if Ron would ever forgive him for being in Slytherin.

“Come.” Snape’s quiet command startled Harry enough that he jumped.

Nodding, the boy turned back around and began walking towards the Slytherin dungeons. It was just so different being a Slytherin now. Even people’s attitudes were way different. Where Gryffindors were loud and excitable, Slytherins were more cautious, more wary of everyone and their surroundings. On a whole, it seemed that Slytherins were colder than their Gryffindor rivals, though that was not saying that they could not be friendly or warm around those that they liked. It was just that Harry’s new house seemed prone to suspicion and indifference.

Taking a sneaky glance over at his father, Harry decided that Snape was the epitome of what a real Slytherin was like. Sure, many thought that Voldemort was, but not all Slytherins were evil, they just couldn’t be. Harry certainly wasn’t! In the beginning, Salazar Slytherin had been good, right? He had liked ambition and cunning above all other traits, but was that such a bad thing? That didn’t make a person evil, it was how a person decided to use that ambition and cunning that made them good or bad, and Snape was using his for good.

But even though Snape had some traits that Harry was coming to admire, the man was still rather cold. It just seemed to be a dominant trait among all Slytherins and Harry knew he was going to have to get used to that eventually. Anyway, most of the Ravenclaws were cold, too and he still liked them all right. But then Slytherins couldn’t be unfeeling all the time. After all, Harry’s mum had fallen in love with the seemingly apathetic Potions Master.      

“What did Dumbledore want?” Harry asked after he couldn’t take the silence between them anymore.

The slight frown on the older wizard’s lips seemed to deepen a fraction as he continued to stare in from of him, walking on as though he hadn’t heard his son. “Nothing that needs to be discussed right now,” Snape said after a moment.

“Was it bad?” Harry could not help but be worried. He didn’t like being left in the dark about things, but then, he was learning that he could trust his father…

Snape looked down at the boy with indecipherable eyes. Harry wondered what his father was thinking or how he was going to respond, if he was going to respond at all. “He and I are simply trying to make amends,” the Head of Slytherin chose his words carefully. “He wanted to ensure that everything would be well by the time the other schools arrive.”

“When will the other schools be here?” Harry asked curiously, though he still felt as though his father was hiding something from him.

“This next Sunday,” the Potions Master answered automatically. “But do not worry about them until they arrive.”

“I’m not worried about them,” the boy frowned. “I just wanted to know when they’d get here. It seems like everyone’s been talking about them almost as much as they’ve been talking about me.”

Harry saw his father wince ever so slightly. “Then when they are here it will be a good distraction away from you, I think.”

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” the younger wizard admitted. “I hope people will stop gawking at me once the others get here.”

Snape did not reply but simply kept on down to the Slytherin dorms. Harry was concerned about his father. He hadn’t seen Snape this closed off in a while, and he wondered if the Headmaster had said or done anything to cause the state the Potions Master was in. Had Dumbledore demanded that Severus help him settle things between the professors even though the Potions Master did not want to? Or was it something else completely? Did it have to do with the other Slytherins? After all, the majority of the House still did not like Snape all that well after the summer events. It was possible that something happened and Snape and some of the other rather boisterous Slytherins had gotten into a fight.

“You never said why I couldn’t go with my friends tonight,” Harry spoke up after a moment. “Is something wrong?”

That stopped the other wizard, and he stared down at the boy. “There is something that I need to do,” he said simply. “It would be better for you to be in your room.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened as all sorts of horrible ideas came into his head.

“It will not affect you, Harry,” Snape said gently, taking on a more fatherly tone, the one that Harry hadn’t heard for several days. “You don’t have to worry about this. This is a matter for adults to handle, not children like you.”

“But I could help—”

“Not this time,” Snape said sternly. “Just go to your room, do your homework, and then go to bed. Don’t worry about anything else for tonight. I will be here in the morning to come and get you.”

The Potions Master’s plan was simple. It all sounded so normal. All of his life Harry had wanted to be normal, wanted to be just like everyone else, even while at Hogwarts, but no matter what, it seemed that he was destined to stick out in some way or another. And even though Harry did not want to be the center of attention, he still did not like his father’s plan. For the first time that Harry could ever really remember, he did not want to be normal at the moment. Normal meant that Harry had to be out of the loop, that he wasn’t in the need to know. He wanted in this time, wanted to help out.

“Are you sure that—”

“There is nothing you can do right now, son,” Severus voice was gentle. “All I need for you to do tonight that would help is to be in your room and doing your work for tomorrow. That’s it.”

“But what is the Headmaster making you do?” Harry asked in frustration.

“He is simply having me review a few things before the other schools arrive,” Snape said shortly. “It’s just business. Nothing too terribly exciting. You don’t have to worry about it.”

There was just something off about what the Professor said, and Harry was sure that his father wasn’t telling him the full truth. There was something terribly convincing in the man’s voice, but then, Harry had always known that Snape was a good actor, and even better liar. There was something going on, but Harry just could not figure it out.

At last, the two Snapes made it to the Slytherin dorms and like every other night, Snape walked Harry as far as the stairs. Harry walked down alone and into his dorm. He knew that his father was waiting for the sound of the door to click before he’d leave, so in his frustration, Harry made sure that he gave an extra loud click which some might have called a slam.

Turning around, Harry had every intention of just flopping down on his bed when he noticed Draco sitting at his desk, a quill in hand and a scowl set in place. “What are you doing here?” Harry asked, surprised that the blond was in his room rather than chatting with the other Slytherins.

Scowling even darker, Draco did not bother to hide his disgust or resentment. “This is my room, too,” he spat. “Didn’t think I needed an invitation.”

Harry ground his teeth together, wondering if he could just hex Malfoy once. It would relieve some of the pressure he was sure, and then, with Malfoy immobile and quiet, Harry was certain he could do his homework in peace like his father had wanted. “You don’t,” he muttered instead. “Just thought you had more of a social life.”

That seemed to offend the blond, and Draco’s face began turning the slightest pink color. “What, and you do?” he sneered. “I’ve noticed, Potter, that you don’t exactly have friends anymore. In fact, the only people that seem to talk to you at all is that imbecile Longbottom and that little Mud-blood Granger.”

“Don’t you call them that!” Harry snapped.

Realizing that he had started to chip away at the other boy’s control, Draco smirked nastily. “Why? That’s what they are, you know. I’ve never seen anyone as stupid as Longbottom, except maybe Weasley, but Granger is a nasty little prude.”

“One more word, Malfoy, and I swear,” Harry threatened, his hands balled into fists at his side.

“You’ll what?” the other boy sneered. “You’ll punch me in the face? You’ll run and go tell Snape? You really think you’ll do anything, Potter? Will you go get your friends to beat me up? No, you know what, Potter? I think that our little agreement we made is invalid now. I don’t have to worry about the Gryffindors as much as I thought I would. But you,” Draco smiled wickedly. “You’ll have to worry about the Slytherins because I’m not keeping them off anymore.”

Harry could not help but be stunned, stunned and horrified. Malfoy had actually figured out that the majority of the Gryffindors didn’t care for him anymore. Without that leverage over Malfoy, then Harry was practically fair game to his new Housemates. They’d be on him faster than flies to a carcass. Snape’s influence alone didn’t have as much power anymore like it used to. While his father could watch over him before and after classes in most cases, and even in his own class, Snape could not watch him all the time. While going from class to class, while in classes, Harry would be an open target.

Draco continued to smirk as he watched the different layers of horror pass over Harry’s face. It was good to see that he could scare Potter. Without his groupies following him around all day, Potter was useless. There was nothing imposing or frightening about the black haired boy. Nothing about Potter seemed threatening at all, and Draco knew he would enjoy watching his Housemates, his real Housemates, beat up and torture the imposter.

But as much fun as a bloodied Potter sounded, Draco suddenly remembered one crucial element he had not factored into his threat: Snape. He had forgotten about that traitor, having gotten too much into frightening Potter. Snape was making Draco watch out for Potter, threatening him, blackmailing! What had the Potions Master said? That if one ended up hurt, he’d blame the other one, no matter what? Damn! That ruined all of the blond’s plans with regard to Potter…but as long as Potter didn’t remember what Snape had said…

“You know what, Potter,” Draco drawled, looking down his nose at the other boy. “I can still save your pathetic hide from the others…”

“But?” Harry growled.

“But,” Malfoy smiled cunningly, “what are you willing to give me in return? I don’t need you to help me against Gryffindors anymore.”

“I’m not giving you anything, Malfoy,” Harry hissed. “So just shove off! I’m not going to be in debt to you!”

“Well then,” Draco shrugged. “I hope you have fun getting beat to a bloody pulp everyday from here on out. Suits me just fine anyway. Oh, but just try not to bleed on my side of the room when you come in from now on, won’t you, Potter? I'm not sure even you could affort to replace some of my things.”

That was it. That was the last straw. Without really thinking, Harry had his wand in hand, and he pointed it at the blond before Malfoy could raise his own. “Stupefy!” he shouted.

But instead of Draco falling over like a sack of potatoes, like both boys had thought may very well happen, the spell that came out of Harry’s wand was not a Stupefy at all. Instead, bright colored sparks of red, green, and purple came out of the end of his wand and they flew around all over the room, having both boys duck and jump around, trying not to get hit with the hot little bolts of light. It took a full ten minutes before things settled down again.

“What the hell was that Potter?” Draco demanded.

“I don’t know!” Harry yelped.

“Are you really so stupid that you can’t even do a proper Stupefy spell?” Malfoy sneered. “I have no idea what that was.”

“It wasn’t me!” Harry growled. “I did the spell right, it just…well, I don’t know what it did, but I know I did it right!”

“Well, maybe you can’t do it right,” the blond smirked. “But let’s see if I can.”

Draco raised his wand so fast and shouted out the Stupefy curse before Harry could have raised his wand to protect himself. But, again, instead of the proper spell happening, the same bright colored lights were emitted from Draco’s wand as well, and for the second time that night both boys were jumping around trying not to get hit. They might have found the situation amusing, seeing their rival dancing around like they had ants in their pants, but both were too distracted cursing and avoiding the bolts of light to see anything amusing about the situation at the moment.

Again, when things had settled down, both boys stood near each other panting slightly. “I…I don’t think we should try that… again,” Harry huffed. “At least not for another twenty minutes.”

When Malfoy looked over at Harry, their eyes locked, and for the first time since their acquaintance, both burst out laughing. Neither one really knew what they were laughing about, but they kept laughing until there were tears in their eyes. “Yeah,” Draco tried to speak through his amusement. “Yeah, just give me a bit of a breather, Potter, and I’ll be ready for round two.”

They both continued to laugh until finally, they stood together in a rather awkward silence. “So…what do you think happened?” Harry asked, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence.

“I think…” Draco began, but paused. “I think that someone warded our room, so that we couldn’t hurt each other.”

“Like…Snape?” Harry threw out the name casually.

The blond smirked, amusement playing in his normally cold eyes. “Yeah, he could do it.”

Another discomforted silence fell before Draco realized that he was on Harry’s side of the room. As quickly as he could, without looking like he was jumping, the young Malfoy went back over to his side of the room and went to his desk. The blond sat down and picked up his quill again, putting his wand away. “I’m working on my Charms essay, so just keep quiet, Potter, will you?” He didn’t sound so confidently angry, but it suited Harry for the time being.

Harry walked over to his own desk and sat down as well. Maybe Draco had the right idea; homework would help him forget about laughing with his archrival. They were not supposed to like each other, and laughing with the enemy just messed up both of their plans of hating each other forever.

~*~

As Snape walked into the Headmaster’s office, he noticed that Albus had a rather old looking piece of parchment. “Is that it?” Severus asked, coming to stand in front of the Headmaster’s desk.

“Yes it is,” Albus nodded. “I’ll need you to sign it.”

“That’s it?” Severus eyed the parchment skeptically. “Is that really all that needs to be done?”

“That’s it,” the older wizard nodded.

“Won’t my signing this alert someone at the Ministry? Won’t someone find out about this?” Snape could not get over his misgivings.

“Believe it or not, Severus, I do have friends, and most of them have been strategically placed within the Ministry,” Dumbledore smiled.

Frowning doubtfully, Severus picked up a quill, only to lower it again. “Are you sure that you can trust this friend of yours?” the Potions Master scowled. “Because if something goes wrong it’s my skin that they’ll have.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Dumbledore said confidently. Oddly, that didn’t make Severus feel better. “I wrote a letter to them after we talked earlier, so he’ll be ready.”

There were still doubts that flooded the Potions Master’s brain, but he knew that if he was ever going to get out of the castle, this was probably the best and safest way to do it. So, taking back up the quill, Severus signed his name right below Albus’s signature. The green ink seemed to burn into the parchment, and slowly, the once bright green faded into black almost immediately.

“There now!” Albus exclaimed. “It is done.”

“Is that it?” Severus asked again, feeling uneasy. “That’s all that I need to do? Nothing else?”

“That is it,” Dumbledore nodded his head, his blue eyes twinkling. “You now share all of the benefits of a Headmaster with me.”

“Won’t Minerva be angry when she finds out about this?” Snape thought a bit too late. He had not wanted to make McGonagall upset, especially over one of Dumbledore’s plans.

“She won’t find out about this,” Albus said confidently.

“But if this was allowed,” Severus frowned. “Why haven’t you made Minerva sign under you? After all, she is your Deputy Headmistress. I didn’t think you’d want to horde all the power for yourself.”

The old wizard smiled at his younger protégé. “I was saving this for the right time for the right person, you see,” Albus explained. “And I knew I could not share power like this with just anyone. Besides, you need this more than Minerva.”

“I’m afraid I’m still skeptical,” Snape drawled.

The Headmaster chuckled, irritating the Potions Master greatly. “Would you like to test it out?” the old man smiled. “Come, Severus, let’s practice this together. Where would you like to go?”

Severus stood still, not knowing if he really wanted to try this after all. What happened if something went wrong? What if he really couldn’t share in on the Headmaster’s privileges? If something went wrong, then he’d be the one that was shit out of luck.

“Let’s try something simple first, shall we?” Albus asked, noticing that the Professor was hesitant. “To the Quidditch Field, perhaps?”

Taking a deep breath and holding it, Severus nodded once. He knew that if this worked then he could do so much more, but if it didn’t work… “Yes,” he said, trying to convince himself that he was really doing this. He readied his mind.

“Then let’s go,” Dumbledore smiled. “Ready? One, two, three!”

And with two loud cracks, the Headmaster and the Potions Master were gone, having both apparated to the Quidditch Field.