Draco was at Malfoy Manor early on a Monday morning, preparing for work. He had been promoted to Senior Auror and had started going in an hour early to prepare for the day. He was enjoying his new found status. He liked the way the junior Aurors looked up to him, awed by his fame and position and seemingly infinite knowledge. Just as he finished tying his tie, a barn owl perched outside his kitchen window, hooting loudly. He didn’t recognize the bird. Frowning, he took the scroll of parchment from the bird’s leg and unfurled it.

As Draco read, his hands began to shake and sweat beaded his forehead.

D--

I dictate this missive

In hopes you’ll agree

That these sentiments I send

Come directly from me.

I require your assistance

Bring W&G if you must

But I have one request

In which you must trust.

I must insist that you not

Share this knowledge with P

Or anyone else,

Lest I not be set free.

Your urgent arrival

Is needed, no swords

Use the following key

To get through the wards.

If you believe this is me

Take this portkey and come

Brings lots of potions

And plenty of rum.

For the stories I tell

Are grim at the best

But until you are here

I can’t tell you the rest.

Do make great haste

Come this night at eight

Much longer than that

And it may be too late.

---KEY---

The name that P called me

To my great chagrin,

The part that G of F/G lost

My accidental sin.

The voice in the matches

In years one through three.

The first three in the name

Of the golden trio G.

And last, but not least,

The thing we three had

Every night before sundown

You, me, and the lad.

Cursing loudly, he scratched out a quick a note to Granger, who had the cooler head of the two. He sent it using the barn owl, as Potter would recognize Draco’s bird. After fire-calling the Ministry telling them he needed the day off, he paced anxiously, a million thoughts racing through his head, his gut churning.

Hermione was helping Harry clean up the breakfast dishes when a siren went off. Everyone in the room looked up and Harry frowned.

“Not too often we get an unknown owl,” Harry commented.

“Might just be the Daily Prophet, mate. Maybe that old one that always came finally kicked the bucket.”

“Ron,” Hermione scolded as Ron let the barn owl in.

He detached the scroll and handed it to Hermione. “Looks like it’s for you.”

Hermione unrolled the scroll, not bothering to hide it from view. There were only four words: For Your Eyes Only.

Harry glanced over. “Secret admirer, then?”

Ron quickly looked.

“It might be about work,” she said. “Maybe I should take this privately.”

“That’s not a Ministry owl,” Ron observed.

Hermione waved her wand. It didn’t seem to be cursed. “Just give me a minute,” she said, getting up from her chair and stepping outside the room, immediately glad she did once she read its content.

Granger,

I received a message. It is urgent you and Weasley come to the Malfoy Manor at once. DO NOT TELL POTTER!!! Make some excuse. Come immediately.

-Draco

Draco had never written to her before, much less summoned her. She had to think fast. If she spent too long, Ron and Harry would get suspicious. She returned to the room with a sigh.

“Ron,” she said, “we are needed at the Ministry immediately.”

Hermione glanced pointedly at Harry, who looked back, questioning.

“What’s happened?” Ron said, jumping to his feet.

“Nothing,” she hedged, looking sympathetically at Harry again.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

Hermione bit her lip. “Well,” Hermione hedged, “I really shouldn’t tell you… but I know how much you hate surprises…” Hermione glanced back at Ron.

Releasing her breath in defeat, she said quickly, “They want to plan a surprise party for you. Since your birthday is next week already, they are in a bit of a hurry.” As they had several friends and acquaintances working at the Ministry these days, she didn’t need to specify who, precisely, she was referring to.

Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

“Do you want me to get them to try and scrap the idea, mate?” Ron asked.

“Please,” Harry said.

“Well,” Hermione said, straightening her shoulders. “I’ll tell them we already have plans for you.” Glancing to Ron, she said, “We’d better get there before they do something we can’t undo.”

“Right-o,” Ron said. “After you.” He walked towards the fireplace.

“Do you mind if we Apparate, Ron? My stomach is feeling a bit off this morning.” She hoped this didn’t sound too odd. Was spinning in a fireplace really that much worse than being sucked into the compressing tube of Apparition? For emphasis, she put her hand over her mid-section. “I don’t think I can take the spinning.”

Ron shrugged and headed for the front door. “See ya,“ Ron called over his shoulder to Harry.

“See you this evening, Harry,” Hermione said, kissing him on the cheek before she left as she did every morning.

Ron put an arm around Hermione as they walked to the edge of the property, past the wards, where they could Apparate.

When they were far enough from the house, Hermione whispered, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” Ron declared.

They crossed the threshold of the wards. “Then hold on tight, we aren’t going to the Ministry.”

A look of confusion crossed Ron’s face as Hermione Apparated them to Malfoy Manor.

“Why are we here?” Ron burst out, seeing the gates of the Malfoy estate.

“No idea, but Draco said it was urgent,” Hermione reported.

As they stepped inside the wards, Draco ran toward them, his face pale and drawn.

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. Draco did NOT run to greet guests; he waited in repose for them to acknowledge his superiority and deigned only to grant them permission to speak when he was good and ready.

“Come inside,” he said, waving them forward. “It’s urgent.” He turned and rushed back toward the house. Startled, Hermione and Ron quickened their pace to follow him.

Draco led them into the library in the back, where he quickly shut and warded the door. He put a silencing charm on the room as well. Then be directed them to a long wooden table.

“What’s going on?” Ron demanded.

“I received this about thirty minutes ago,” Draco said, shoving the parchment toward them.

Hermione and Ron bent over it, reading. Hermione finished first, glancing up at Draco, her hand to her heart. “Is it him?” she asked.

“Who?” Ron asked.

“Severus,” Hermione breathed.

Ron‘s eyes widened. “Snape sent this? He’s alive?”

Draco twisted his hands together and resumed pacing. “I’d like to think it’s him,” Draco muttered.

“You think it might be a trap?” Hermione whispered.

“I don’t know,” Draco said, running his hand through his hair. “It sounds like him. And the poetry makes sense.” At Hermione and Ron’s confused stares, Draco added, “He loved to read poetry. Few people knew that about him. Potter and I discovered it when we were training with him.”

“Why would he dictate it?” Ron asked. “Why not write it himself?”

Instead of answering, Draco pointed to the parchment. “Did you figure out the key yet?”

“No,” Hermione said, pulling the parchment closer. “Did you?”

Draco nodded. “I want to see if you get the same answer I did.”

“Alright,” Hermione said. She and Ron bent over the parchment. “Let‘s read it at again first, to see if there‘s any pattern.”