Chapter 47

Baskets

xxx

A hiss that could only come from such a serpentine figure as Voldemort himself filled the silent room. The elderly witch at his side quivered as she drew back, but Voldemort paid her no attention, and she resumed her attentions to the last of his body parts which needed mending. Instead of focusing on the frightened Mediwitch, Voldemort's glowing eyes focused on the man in front of him, who stood awaiting judgment.

"Your son has grown quite strong, Lucius," said the Dark Lord evenly, leveling the man before him with a shrewd, evaluating stare.

"Due undoubtedly to your remarkable training skills, my Lord," said Lucius reverently, bowing his head.

"Is it?" questioned Voldemort. "That last curse, a malicious spell—I did not teach him that. I did not instruct him to perform it. Clearly," he added, gesturing down to his gaping flesh wound.

"Nor did I, my Lord," answered Lucius quickly, as though he had been expecting this. "The boy is very concerned with your approval; he has been spending many hours studying ways to improve his performance. I am certain he wishes to impress you."

"He has improved," said Voldemort in a low voice, lingering for a moment before continuing, "Where does he find the time? He spends so very much time at that school."

"A necessary evil, surely you agree," responded Lucius. "Draco tells me Dumbledore expends quite a bit of effort on keeping track of the students in general; it would not do to draw further attention to Draco's absences."

"Oh, come now, Lucius," said Voldemort, sitting forward and shooing the witch from his side, who scampered off quickly at this dismissal. "Surely you do not believe Dumbledore so naïve. These little weekend getaways for your boy; the Headmaster knows he is not going to visit his lonely Mother. Dumbledore allows the absence because he is hoping to use the boy to his advantage; and I wonder, has he already begun?"

"Of course not, my Lord," Lucius said quickly, seemingly appalled at the suggestion. "The Headmaster is far too concerned with Kinnaird to pay any attention to Draco. I have been very clear with Draco; he is to keep his head down, focus on remaining unnoticed by the rest of the staff, and put on a decent show of a troubled home life so that no one questions his repeated visits. He even tells me the Potter boy has, of late, become very interested in his whereabouts; he suggested that he may be able to one day lure him from the castle, given the boy's impulsive nature…"

"That would be very pleasing indeed," Voldemort replied slowly, although he did not look pleased in the slightest. He paused, drumming his fingers thoughtfully upon the arm of his chair. "Nevertheless, Lucius, you ought to stress to Draco the weight that fraternizing with his enemies carries. It would not do for anyone to get the wrong idea about his loyalties...and you, my friend, can afford few more mistakes."

Lucius' brows drew together and he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "…I wonder what you have heard, my Lord…"

"It is not your place to wonder, Lucius, only to serve," said Voldemort darkly. "Remind your son of that fact, and perhaps I will not have to teach him yet another lesson on how to do so."

"Of course," Lucius agreed quickly. He gave pause, and behind his icy blue eyes, searching for the words said, "And he has been solely focused on serving you. He values your favour so highly."

"Yes, but apparent focus can always be a ruse for other emotions, we are aware of that by now," Voldemort said softly, with a darkness which was a warning to Lucius in itself. "It was not so long ago that I lost Severus to Dumbledore, and now I must question whether it is a mistake to have placed so much faith in two men at Hogwarts. Perhaps I ought to correct the mistake."

Lucius took a step forward, seemingly without conscious thought. His lips parted and a faint noise emerged, but Voldemort's thin index finger struck a silencing fear in him as he motioned quickly to cease.

I am afraid," said Voldemort unforgivingly, "that I rather need some time to contemplate, Lucius. You are dismissed."

"My Lord—"

"You might consider yourself fortunate," Voldemort said over Lucius' protest, "that I release you without punishment. Leave me."

"My Lord, I agree with you," Lucius interrupted, and immediately bowed his head at Voldemort's dangerously narrowed red eyes.

"I find that quite difficult to believe, Lucius," Voldemort said; it was a challenge.

"Perhaps we have not taken enough notice of young Branson's movements," proposed Lucius, apparently emboldened by the fact that Voldemort had replied with words and not the violent flick of a wand. "We forget how recently he was produced from that very school, and in a time when your name was something like a myth to the children. And now we send him back to the very teachers by whom he was molded? I hope you will forgive me for doubting, but Draco's success is relatively dependent on the work of this other boy."

"It is certain that Kinnaird maintains some uselessness, Mr. Malfoy. I no longer allow any one of my subjects to have too much knowledge at once, and they are therefore crippled. However, he may be disposed of at any time; meanwhile, his inexperience encourages me. He is unable to hide his mind from me, and yet he believes I cannot see what is there. No, Kinnaird is of little consequence to me now."

"I am certain you are correct, my Lord, but allow me to offer you this. I will find a way to be closer to my son, to better influence his mind in our favor, and meanwhile I will watch this Kinnaird."

"What you do with your time little concerns me, Lucius. Just be certain that I will soon tire of your constant bumbling; you ought to choose your conquests wisely."

xxx

The descent to the chilled, torch-lit dungeons was completed with a certain sense of vacancy; numbness hovered dully in the back of Severus' buzzing brain. Slowly, he drew breath. His fingers drifted absently over the smooth glass surface of the vial buried deep in his robes, the constant motion an assurance that he did not imagine its presence there. He moved so swiftly that the touch of his hard heels to the stone floor hardly registered its echo in the empty corridor, the contact barely made.

He reached the door to his office by instinct and opened the door out of habit. He had promised to visit the Headmaster, yes, but he needed time to process…needed time to decide how to frame this for the older man. He needed to verify that the exchange had actually occurred, that he had not imagined it out of desperation to have something, anything¸ go according to plan.

For the past several months had been filled with disappointments. He had lost his position in Voldemort's circle; he had gone from being a source of invaluable intelligence to one who had to rely on others for secondhand information; it was akin to losing one's eyesight. Well, now, Severus was beginning to taste the power again; acting on his own, despite the requests of the Headmaster, gave him some control over the outcome of this war. He would continue to play Dumbledore's game; he would tolerate Kinnaird when he had the time, and continue to draw Malfoy in while maintaining a sense of discretion in their meetings…

But he would not place his faith in either boy. There was only one boy whose fate truly mattered, and Severus would deceive whomever necessary to help his son. He would take advantage of what Voldemort's two wavering subjects were willing to offer, while keeping each at a safe distance until he could decide who was the most trustworthy.

Malfoy had proven something tonight; that was certain. Where Severus had previously been worried about whether the boy would give any indication of his true loyalty until it was too late, he was now beginning to think that maybe he was a very useful tool they had not yet utilized. Until now, that was.

Taking one last glance at the vial in his hand, (a morbid sight, now that his mind was unclouded by the haze of overwhelming satisfaction) he placed it back into the inner pocket of his robes. With any lingering doubt pushed resolutely out of his mind, he straightened his office quickly, preparing to go back to the lab in his home for the next several days. With a flourish, he banished the light from his office as he crossed the room. With more force than necessary, he whipped open the door and stepped across the border between his office and the corridor.

Always a cautious man, Severus paused to ward his door against intruders. Then, slipping his wand upwards into his sleeve, he turned on his heel…

…And was abruptly greeted by an uncharacteristically stern looking Albus Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Severus," said the Headmaster, but his greeting was anything but genial.

"Headmaster," Severus returned smoothly, tilting his head in Dumbledore's direction.

"It was quite some time ago I left you at the hospital wing." The tone of Dumbledore's voice was neutral, but Severus could detect the question buried underneath the deceptively benign sounding statement.

"It was," agreed Severus, adding, "I was just on my way to your office."

The lie was casual, and to any other person, would have left no room for even a hint of suspicion; however, Severus knew—he could see—that Dumbledore was questioning his motives.

"I had thought you would have gone there, first," said Dumbledore mildly. "I did ask you to report back to me."

Deciding it was best to continue the conversation now rather than later, Severus moved to the Headmaster's side and began to stroll at what was, for Severus, a leisurely pace down the corridor. "My apologies, Headmaster, I did not intend to keep you waiting."

Aside from the necessity of making the Headmaster feel as though he had been given all the essential knowledge, Severus also understood the necessity of getting his preciously guarded Potion ingredient back to his lab, where he could place it in a stasis solution. With both of these purposes in mind, he quickened his pace as he spoke to the older man.

"I did leave some rather pressing business in my Potions laboratory at home and I must return to attend to it; I had thought I would get the necessary things from my office before coming to yours. I hope that I did not overly concern you."

"Yes, of course," said Dumbledore, his stiff shoulders relaxing slightly as he contemplated Severus' explanation for his tardiness. "But to the matter of Mr. Malfoy—"

"Mr. Malfoy has endured quite a lot this past weekend," said Severus, allowing a hint of compassion to affect his tone. "I do not think it would be wise to push him for any information he does not give freely."

"I agree," said Dumbledore, and Severus privately thought he was being honest. "But Severus, what is it he wanted to speak to you about? It is the most curious thing; he would not allow anyone to so much as touch him until you came to his side, and yet now he is allowing Poppy to tend to him freely."

"He was rather concerned about accepting help; he worries the Dark Lord will punish him more severely if he does so. However, I convinced him that this was foolish thinking. I also managed to convince him, and I hope that you will support my judgment on this issue, that he should allow me to teach him how to avoid being treated so harshly in the future." With this, Severus allowed his dark eyes to connect with Dumbledore's, eyebrows raised as if politely daring the other man to contradict him.

"I hope that you are not over-extending yourself, Severus," said Dumbledore with an equally polite eyebrow raise as he gazed at Severus over his spectacles. "With your classes to teach, this Potion to work on, a rather challenging teenage son to raise, Mr. Kinnaird to train, and now Draco Malfoy to look after…I wonder if you are not spreading yourself too thin."

Severus' eyes narrowed in challenge, and he responded, "Headmaster, I spied for you for more years than I care to admit. Compared to the relative hell I've lived through over the past several years, this is what I believe Muggles refer to as a walk through cake."

"I think you may mean 'cakewalk', Severus," said Dumbledore with a perplexed frown.

"Yes," said Severus with a sigh of annoyance, "that is what I said."

"Hmm," Dumbledore muttered quietly, not looking altogether convinced. "Well," he said anyways, as they arrived at the doors of the Great Hall, "I suppose I leave you here. But Severus—I am serious. You cannot take on so much, when there is so much at stake."

"For now, Headmaster, I suggest you allow me to decide what I can handle. However," he added at Dumbledore's expression of protest, "I thank you for your concern. Now, on the subject of my rather challenging son, might I enlist your help?"

"Of course, Severus."

"Please explain to him that I had to leave for the afternoon, but ask him to meet me in my private quarters after he takes dinner tonight, and assure him that I will explain then."

"I will," agreed Dumbledore, and Severus nodded his thanks. He turned to open the door, but Dumbledore halted him with a hand on his shoulder. Severus stiffened at the contact, but twisted his head to look at the Headmaster. "And Severus…I hope that you know we still have much to discuss, when you are able to see me in private."

"Yes, Headmaster," Severus agreed, defeated. It was at times like these when he realized, he would never truly be without someone to answer to. If only, thought Severus wishfully, the old man were as daft as he lead everyone else to believe.

xxx

The door to the sixth year dormitory closed with a startling BANG, but the only person to hear was the melancholy boy who had just slammed it.

Harry glanced mechanically around the room, and sighed with relief at its emptiness. He had spent the afternoon pacing the castle corridors; he had not been actively pursuing his father, but he couldn't deny that if they had crossed paths he would have been contented. It had been hours since Severus had left him in dramatic fashion to pursue an unknown task. Dumbledore had sent word to return to the castle, and that was the most he had been told since the morning. Even Hermione, who was normally dependably level-headed, had seemed disturbed by the lack of communication.

Though Harry was certain he would have been better off surrounded by friends, sharing dinner in the clamor of the Great Hall was not an idea he could currently stomach. So, having lapped the castle several times and with the common room mostly empty, he found himself at a loss for distractions. It was with that thought in mind that he closed his eyes and blindly flung himself onto the bed, the very picture of teenage desolation.

A moment later, green eyes sprung open as something pointy prodded the soft back of his neck. With a grimace, he pulled a crisp ivory envelope from between his head and his pillow. Frowning, he turned on his back and slid his finger between the flap and the parchment inside.

Harry was greeted by Dumbledore's tidy scrawl.

Harry,

I am sorry that I was unable to find you in Gryffindor Tower this afternoon. Miss Granger instructed me that you wished to spend the afternoon on your own. Your Father requested that you report to his office after dinner this evening.

I welcome your company if there is anything with which I can assist you,

A.D.

With a huff, Harry dropped his arm over the side of the bed and released the letter. He was certain that had Hermione not warned Dumbledore of his solitary mood, the old wizard would have been able to find him quicker than if he had climbed straight into the Marauder's Map. And while Harry was slightly relieved he hadn't needed to spend the afternoon warding off the Headmaster's sympathies, he did regret that he had spent the afternoon resenting the lack of communication that had already found its way to his pillow.

Harry rolled out of his small bed and crossed the dormitory. With dinner already half way over, Harry hoped that he would be able to catch his Father early; he had been anxious all day, and was ready for answers.

While Harry had repeatedly spoken to his father about the level of trust between them, he could not help but resent the frequency with which the topic arose. He knew that Severus did not intentionally leave him in the dark, but the fact remained that Harry was last in the chain of command. Everyone answered to him last, and chastised him when he showed signs of indignation.

To Harry, it was becoming utterly disrespectful.

Still, Harry realized that as a sixteen year old boy, he could not exactly reprimand his father of near forty years with positive results. He would have to swallow his pride, for now.

Steeling himself for the encounter, Harry took a moment to breathe before knocking on Severus' office door.

Harry listened closely for rustling from inside, though he knew silencing wards might render his efforts futile. The next few seconds passed slowly as he waited for some kind of sign of his Father. Finally, just as Harry considered turning away, the office door swung open, revealing an uncharacteristically frazzled looking Professor Snape.

Well, thought Harry, frazzled did not seem appropriate for his father in any case. But there were nuances of excitement in his movements, and his eyes gleamed sharply, revealing a mind hard at work. The changes in his demeanor were so subtle, yet Harry was acutely aware of them. He had made a career out of evaluating his Professor and Father's expressions.

"Come in," Severus commanded curtly, stepping aside to allow Harry through. Automatically, Harry obeyed.

Severus glanced cursorily around the corridor before closing the door behind his son. Whirling around, his piercing eyes rested on the boy before him, who seemed caught off guard by the quickness of his movements.

Harry lingered under his Father's gaze, curiosity overcoming discomfort. The office was dimly lit, and the pensieve glowed in the corner, several hazy vials on the table next to it.

"Sit," intoned Severus, resting Harry's attention from the setting. He gestured to the leather, high arching chair positioned in front of his desk. He could sense Harry's unease, but gathered he had little time alone with his son. The Headmaster would give him little time after his return to Hogwarts, and Harry needed to understand the importance of discretion. Simultaneously, Severus could not have him plaguing him with questions in front of Dumbledore.

Harry moved to the chair and pulled it to face his Father's desk; yet, in several swift movements, Snape had joined him in the chair adjacent to his own.

"What I am about to explain to you is a rare instance in which I require the information be kept absolutely exclusive," Severus instructed in a low voice. He stared at Harry unwaveringly, and Harry nodded.

"I understand, sir."

Severus nodded once, and stood. He folded his hands behind his back, and began moving across the room.

"I returned to Hogwarts this morning to discover Draco Malfoy in far worse condition than I last left him. This was a rather important weekend for him, you see." The light of the pensieve danced across Severus' face as he gazed down into the bowl. He paused only for a moment before adding, "And incidentally, for us as well.

"Malfoy has procured for us that which I had considered most unobtainable. The flesh of your enemy, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened, and his chin dropped. He looked up at Severus disbelievingly from under furrowed brows. "How can you be sure this isn't a ploy?"

Severus' lips twitched upward at the side, a faint half smile. "That is why I have extracted these," said Severus, motioning to the vials. "That, and I must keep these memories safe. I hope you will use equal discretion."

"Of course," Harry said, his voice hitching slightly. He was taken aback by the directness with which Severus stated his purpose. He was equally unsettled by the sudden rush of information coming his way.

With his back turned to Harry, Severus uncorked one of the vials sitting on the table, and deposited the other two in his robe. As he did so, he explained, "I will leave you to view this memory. I must go and speak with Dumbledore while you do so."

Pausing, Severus turned around to face Harry. His expression was thoughtful as he said slowly, "You should not infer that I intend to hide anything from Professor Dumbledore, but in Draco's best interest, I do wish to protect him by keeping more personal information to myself. You must be aware of this so you do not undermine my efforts to do so."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Harry," Severus said sharply, "that you are privileged to information I am not willing to share with Professor Dumbledore at this time, and you should not share it either."

"Ah," Harry muttered, only because he had no other words. He was unsure how else to respond; he felt as though he required so many answers, yet could not articulate the questions.

"When I return, we will talk. If you have finished before I return, you may make yourself comfortable in my quarters. I have set out some tea for you and you may rest while I tend to my responsibilities with the Headmaster. Is this agreeable to you?"

"Yes." Harry was certain this was the only expected response.

"Very good," said Severus approvingly. His expression softened for the briefest of moments, and Harry felt a sudden twinge of shame for the building anger he had felt throughout the day. With his normally tight expression relaxed, the stresses of the past years revealed themselves in the pallor of his face.

"Thank you," said Harry quietly, breaking eye contact.

Severus' face became stricken again, and he nodded toward the pensieve. "Perhaps thanks are unnecessary," he stated before excusing himself from the office.

Harry frowned to himself, and rose from his chair. Pondering the meaning of Severus' closing words, he made his way to the pensieve. It had not been so long since his last encounter with the magical device, but his recollection of that event did not put his racing mind at ease. The potential knowledge that lay before him calmed him as much as it excited him. It was as though some invisible strings had been cut, releasing Harry from the resentment he felt towards the imposed naivety of his adolescence.

The glass of the vial felt smooth and cool against his fingers as he gently released its contents into the pensieve. He felt unprepared for what he was about to encounter, he realized as he dipped his head near the basin. Severus had given him no precursor to what he was about to witness, and whatever it was, he would have potentially hours before his Father returned to discuss with him.

It was only the lure of the pensieve before him that quelled these thoughts. He knew that he could bear the curiosity no more easily than he could bear having knowledge without the answers.

The swirling surface engulfed him as he leaned forward. The pensieve pulled him down with increasing speed; tumbling headfirst through a cloudy sky, a rush of adrenaline shot through him—and suddenly, his world went still as he landed harshly on his feet. Losing his balance and jolting forward several steps, he caught himself just shy of running into the tall, imposing figure of the Potions Master. With a sharp breath, he stepped back, and observed his surroundings. He was standing in the corridor, and Severus was exchanging conversation with Dumbledore in a low, rumbling voice as they walked toward the infirmary. Jogging a few steps forward, Harry followed closely behind them.

"You said that Malfoy had asked to see me," said Severus. "Would this have something to do with the 'family visit' you allowed him on this weekend?"

His tone was acerbic; the disdain in his disposition was obvious to Harry.

"It does," was Dumbledore's reply. He turned to Severus, and moving closer, said quietly, "The young man refuses to speak to me about what has occurred this weekend. However, I have hopes that he will reveal it to you. He will not let Poppy touch him, beyond administering a potion for pain. He refuses to reveal what occurred this weekend, refuses to even undress."

"And he asked for me?" Severus questioned.

Dumbledore nodded soberly. "I leave you here. Mr. Malfoy has requested to speak with you in privacy; I fear that in order to learn what has occurred here, I must acquiesce."

"Certainly."

"I will see that Miss Granger and Harry made it safely to the common room. I expect to see you later this evening," said Dumbledore.

As Severus pushed the doors to the hospital wing open, Harry braced himself to see Malfoy. When he stepped in the infirmary, he saw exactly what he had expected. It seemed that the bitterness of his expression reflected the roiling resentment on the inside. He barely acknowledged Severus' presence in the room, even as he came to the side of his bed. The evidence of physical abuse was not only present; it encompassed him so that it was all Harry could see. Against his will, he was once again struck with the thought his Father had placed in his head; perhaps, Malfoy should be pitied.

When Malfoy finally looked up at the Potions' Master, it was as though he only did so to twist the dagger of having to witness him in this state. Perhaps, Harry thought, Malfoy had refused treatment in order to earn Severus' trust, or perhaps to appeal to his newfound 'fatherly' nature. Either way, despite the apparent damage he had suffered, Harry was sure he had motives that had not yet been revealed.

"No matter what I do," said Malfoy finally, stirring Harry from his thoughts. "No matter what I do, I answer to someone with only his own interests in mind. Still, an opportunity presented itself…"

Unfolding his hands, Malfoy held out a vial to Severus, who reached out and took it, turning it over in his hands. Severus looked as taken aback as Harry felt.

"Mr. Malfoy," said the Professor. "This…"

"A piece of Voldemort himself," Malfoy said, as triumphantly as he could manage despite his state. "The ingredient to your precious potion you needed the most, is it not?"

Harry could see the flood of satisfaction on Severus' face. The changes in his expression were so minute, and yet Harry now understood the energy with which he had greeted him today. It was clear how much this meant to him, even though Harry doubted the sincerity of Malfoy's act.

"What have you done to secure this?"

"I have kept my position, never fear," Malfoy said with unchecked disdain. "I will go back, when he calls. He does not know I took this. However, he was not pleased that in my training I was able to injure him, however great of a sign it is that I am succeeding in becoming as strong as I must."

"What can I do?" asked Severus, more gently now.

It took Harry a moment to realize that the jolt he experienced in that moment was a surge of jealousy. He shook the feeling away, and looked from his Father's concerned gaze to Malfoy's blank and passive stare.

"Help me," said Malfoy, dropping his eyes to the side. After a moment, he said more forcefully, "And stop wasting your time on that prat Kinnaird. The Dark Lord doesn't truly trust him anyway. Train me, instead. If you are going to insist on asking me to do these things, give me a way out, in the end. I at least deserve to profit as much as I stand to lose."

"You know Dumbledore will not abide by that," said Severus seriously.

"Do we serve ourselves or not?" asked Malfoy loudly. "If you want to keep your son safe, you must help me as well. It's the only way you can win."

"Very well," he said, stepping back from the bed. "I will try to do what I can for you."

Harry barely had time to register his own reaction before he was being pulled back through the pensieve. He felt as though there must be some mistake, like his time had been cut short. For everything he had expected to gain from viewing the memory, he now had even more to contemplate.

When Harry found himself standing back in Severus' office, alone in the dimly lit room and already contemplating the contents of the memory, it was all a bit more than he could process at once. Trying to clear his mind, he hurriedly prepared to leave the office and started towards Severus' quarters.

He tried to organize his thoughts, but they all came in the form of questions. What did Malfoy stand to gain? This stood out as the most important to Harry, and it was not something Severus could answer for him. It was a question he would have to consider on his own time. The fact remained, Malfoy did nothing selflessly. He made no claims to a noble cause. He certainly had no interest in helping Harry personally.

So why would he provide them with something so valuable, with so little in return? In fact, it was not only the lack of gain that concerned Harry; it was the extent of the sacrifice that seemed so uncharacteristic.

There was only one thing that Malfoy could earn. Severus, and all the advantages of having his trust. Malfoy must know that Severus was willing to help him, when everyone else wanted to turn him away.

It frustrated Harry beyond belief. Severus sympathized with Malfoy because he saw something of his young self in him; this much Harry knew without needing to hear it. And it bothered him, because when Severus became easily frustrated with his Gryffindor son, it seems those flaws were the Slytherin's strengths.

Yet, there was a reason Severus had shown him this memory. Harry thought back to Malfoy's demeanor. The boy was clearly disturbed. He was not faking the mental and physical injuries he was sustaining. And, he couldn't walk away. It was entirely possible that he would take any way out he could find, even if it did mean helping Harry. It was a method of survival.

Harry let himself into Severus' dark quarters and lit the ensconced candles with a flick of his wand. He poured himself a cup of tea and made himself comfortable on the couch. The smooth warmth of the tea gliding down his throat soothed him, and he closed his eyes just for a moment. He needed to stop turning over all of these thoughts. Severus would arrive soon, and they would talk about the implications of everything that had occurred.

Opening his eyes and leaning forward to set his teacup on the low table, Harry realized how rapidly change was coming. The completion of the potion would mean the start of offensive action against Voldemort. His concerns would no longer be passing Transfiguration and whether or not to take dinner in the Great Hall; the fears lingering in the back of his mind would finally be realized.

It would have been lovely, thought Harry as he buried his face in the pillows, to just close his eyes and forget the nervousness churning in his gut.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry didn't register the opening and closing of the door; he knew nothing of Severus' presence until the older man approached the couch on which he lay.

"Harry?"

Pulling his head out of the sofa, Harry looked up at him and promptly pushed himself upright.

"How are you feeling?" inquired his Father reservedly, taking a seat in the chair across from him. It seemed as though he were expecting a strong reaction.

Harry, however, merely shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure what you intended me to learn from this."

"Perhaps learn is the wrong word," suggested Severus, leaning back in his chair and watching him with an evaluative stare.

"Well, I'm not certain what the right one is, then," said Harry, perhaps with more petulance than he intended. Severus simply nodded.

"I know what your feelings are, Harry, and I do not expect you to alter them. However, I do ask that you set them aside and focus on the most important aspects of what you witnessed.

"You know that Malfoy is not Dumbledore's favored candidate for the job that must be done. You also know that Kinnaird is not mine. Do you see where I am leading?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, thought for a moment, and shook his head.

"Think about it, Harry," instructed Snape.

Harry was becoming more and more frustrated, but he did as he was told. He understood why his Father had little faith in Kinnaird… he supposed he had much more faith in Malfoy.

"I need," said Snape softly, "to ensure that we have another method of success, should Kinnaird fail. And I feel quite strongly that he will."

"I understand," said Harry. "You don't want to put all your eggs in one basket. But how can you be sure Malfoy is the right one?"

"I had hoped you would understand once you viewed my memory. I also thought you would appreciate being fully informed. Did I waste my time in doing so?"

The retort was a bit harsher than Harry felt he deserved, but he tried to brush it off. "I just wanted to understand your reasoning, that's all. I didn't say I disagreed with your method. I suppose Malfoy has done us a great service…I just wonder what it will cost us later."

"Very astute," Severus replied approvingly. "And I wonder the same, but I believe that by helping Malfoy now, we might encourage his loyalty later. Do not think he can manipulate me, Harry. I have quite a bit of experience in these matters, do not forget."

"I know," replied Harry, feeling somewhat silly. Of course, his Father had a far darker side than Harry had experience with. Harry did not think of him as a true Death Eater, but the fact remained that he had dealt with that circle for most of his adult life.

"You realize what this means for us, don't you Harry? We are much closer to winning than we have ever been before."

"If that is the outcome," said Harry, somewhat bitterly.

"It will be," said Severus, a chill to his voice. Somewhat startled by the change, Harry glanced up sharply. The look on Severus' face was steely, solemn. "We are all willing to sacrifice to help you succeed, Harry. Do not take that for granted."

"That's what I'm worried about," Harry sighed, standing with resignation. "I'm very tired, may I be excused?"

Severus looked surprised at the suddenness of the request. "I would prefer to continue talking."

It sounded more like a command than a request, but Harry persisted. "I'm just not sure what else there is to discuss. I understand. I should no longer question Malfoy's usefulness or your motives for helping him. I am thankful that you have told me these things. I might need some time to deal with it, that's all."

Severus nodded, though he looked as though he were biting back an acid response. "Very well, then. We will speak tomorrow. At the house."

Harry could have kicked himself; he hadn't realized they were returning to the house tomorrow. There, he could not resist Severus' efforts to discuss the things to come. Right now, he just wasn't ready to face those realities.

"Fine," he replied, somewhat dejectedly, moving towards the door. For a reason he couldn't quite determine, Severus looked quite affronted.

"Be here at nine A.M. tomorrow," called Severus over his shoulder. "And remember what we discussed. You are not to speak of this to anyone."

"Understood. Good night," said Harry shortly, before closing the door behind him.

From his chair, Severus stared at the wall ahead, frustrated with the immaturity of the boy who constantly complained of not being treated like an adult. Severus had expected a far more positive reaction, for he himself felt so triumphant.

But rather than reacting positively, Harry had become petulant, almost more childlike. He should have realized the advantages they now had. He should have felt relieved to see the work of the past year coming together in favor of their plan.

No, his son only saw the hatred he had for Malfoy. Despite what Malfoy had provided them with, he still could not see what Severus saw.

It was somewhat maddening. But, with no choice but to leave it for morning, Severus willed his mind to turn towards other matters. Rising from his seat, he banished the light from his quarters. He had other matters to attend to; he had done his duty to Dumbledore and talked with his son, but there was another person who needed his attention now.

It did not take Severus long, with his long legs and purposeful pace, to reach the hospital wing. As he approached, however, his steps slowed; the door to the infirmary was cracked, and low voices were slipping through to the otherwise silent corridor. Quieting the click of his boots against the stone, he moved stealthily toward the door. The nondescript mumbling became audible as he performed a subtle sound amplifying charm.

"—thank you, but you weren't exactly of service to me when it was required—" Malfoy was speaking.

"And what would you have me do, throw myself between you and the Dark Lord?" hissed a voice in retort, and Severus was surprised to recognize Kinnaird's voice.

"Don't be foolish," Malfoy growled, and there was a moment of silence. "Listen, you shouldn't be seen here anyway. You ought to leave."

"Very well," responded the voice stiffly, with more coldness than Severus was used to hearing in Kinnaird's tone. "You know how you may reach me, at any cost."

There was no more exchange before Severus heard footsteps heading in his direction. He cancelled his charm and stepped quickly into an alcove within the corridor; unseen, he waited there as Kinnaird passed by him unwittingly.

Severus had witnessed many underhanded dealings in his lifetime, but he was unsure what to make of this one. There were few reasons for Kinnaird to visit Malfoy in the hospital wing. There were even fewer to explain their conversation.

Severus began to reconsider whether it were wise to visit Malfoy at this time. What he had hoped to accomplish was to gain a little more of Malfoy's trust by taking an interest in his welfare. That was still important, he decided. He would not reveal that he had heard anything of the exchange. He would, however, save that conversation for a better time. It would be far easier for Malfoy to cover his tracks if he knew that Severus was on to him.

Just as quickly and silently as he had come, Severus swept away from the hospital wing.

xxx

When Harry arose in the morning, it took a few minutes for the anxiety over last night to hit him. As soon as it did, he wished he could go back to bed.

He realized now that he should have dealt with everything the night prior, rather than saving it for today. He had not done any "processing", that much was certain. Fuming? Yes. Jumping to paranoid conclusions about Malfoy? Absolutely. Processing the information in a healthy and sensible way?

One-hundred times no.

And now, so very early in the morning, he had to go meet his Father and travel with him to an isolated house with very few distractions. It was not an idea that appealed to Harry at the moment.

Be that as it may, Harry could practically hear his Father's sardonic tone ringing in his head, he had little choice in the matter. He needed to start practicing his magic, getting stronger, preparing. His Father, like it or not, was the only person who could teach him these things. He wouldn't learn it from a book, and it wouldn't come to him naturally…at least, not at first.

Harry knew that if he were to become the man who needed to defeat Voldemort, he would have to set aside his emotions and focus on the task at hand.

In the end, his emotions wouldn't matter if Voldemort defeated him.

Harry splashed some cold water onto his face and combed his hair to prepare himself for the day. After throwing on a clean set of clothes, he grabbed the sack he'd prepared the night before and hurried down to Severus quarters.

When Harry arrived, Severus was already waiting for him.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled at the ground as he walked up, but Severus merely shook his head. He seemed terse, probably thinking about the prior evening.

"We will be Apparating this morning," Severus told him.

The walk through the castle and to the gate was a silent one. Harry trailed behind Severus, keeping quiet aside from an occasional yawn. Every time something came to mind that he thought about saying to his Father, he stifled the urge.

When they did finally arrive at the house, Severus was very short with him.

"I am going to work on a few things upstairs, Harry. You may rest, or read some of the books I set out for you in the library. I will be with you later."

Harry had no chance to respond; Severus had whirled around and ascended the stairs before Harry could so much as open his mouth. Perturbed, he stomped off to the kitchen. Perhaps he could at least get some breakfast out of Tibby, if nothing else.

xxx

It was some time after leaving Harry downstairs that Severus left to return to Hogwarts. Harry clearly needed some more time to himself, and Severus would not be able to rest until he spoke to Malfoy. If he could get a sense of what was going on between him and Kinnaird, it would put his mind greatly at ease.

Though he had no desire to talk to the Headmaster today, the floo was now the easiest way to leave without having to argue with Harry about his destination. After informing Tibby to take care of Harry and to explain his whereabouts only if necessary, he departed for the castle.

Dumbledore seemed surprised to see him as Severus arrived in his office in a burst of green flame. Severus, however, stepped out of the ashes gracefully, as though nothing were abnormal about his sudden appearance.

"It occurred to me," explained Severus very simply, before Dumbledore could inquire about his presence, "that I should perhaps check on Mr. Malfoy, as he does not seem particularly receptive to any other visitors at this time."

"Ah," Dumbledore responded simply, eyebrows lifted as he gazed up at Severus' hard features. Nonchalantly, he added, "That is rather kind of you, Severus."

Severus' expression was disdainful as he registered the word "kind".

"Yes, well," he said with a slight sneer, "What you call kindness I call strategy, but whatever eases your conscience."

Dumbledore gave little reaction other than a small shake of his head, and he looked back down at his work. "Enjoy your visit, Severus."

Severus, for his part, was already opening the door as he said a stiff goodbye to the Headmaster.

For the second time in quite a short period of time, Severus' steps slowed as he approached the infirmary. This time, however, the hospital doors were closed, and there were no voices echoing from the inside.

Subtle trepidation stilled his hand as he reached for the handle of the door. He breathed deeply, clearing his mind of all disturbances. He felt a mixture of emotions that he was reluctant to acknowledge. There was a part of him that pitied the boy inside, who was, in all reality, still very young. There was yet another part, a more prominent part, that felt fiercely protective over his own son. That part wanted to see Malfoy and Kinnaird mounted on the wall if they dared to conspire against him.

Severus shook his head and stilled his thoughts. Suppressing his emotions was the only sure way to accomplish any of his goals, when it came to the Malfoy boy.

With no further hesitation, Severus twisted the brass handle and stepped into the infirmary.

From his bed, Malfoy's head slowly turned from the window, and his lips quirked upwards just slightly as his eyes rested on Professor Snape.

xxx

Breakfast did not hold Harry's attention for long. Even the raspberry filled pastries that Tibby had provided him with were not enough to quell the frustrated feelings manifesting in Harry while he waited for his father to come downstairs.

Though he was normally happy not to be asked to contribute in the Potions lab, (his skills were just not up to his Father's expectations), he was rather offended that Severus had not even considered asking him to come along, since he had forced him to come to the house so early in the morning. In addition to this, he was rather infuriated at the cold shoulder he was being given. Had he been a little unreasonable the night before? Yes, but this much was normal. He thought that Severus would at least have inquired how he was feeling about everything today, before locking himself in isolation.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Harry had made his way to the attic laboratory. And it was with these thoughts in mind that he finally mustered the courage to open the laboratory door.

The door swung open with a telling creak, and Harry squinted as he cringed against the reprimand that was surely coming. When no such thing occurred, however, he opened his eyes, frowned, and stepped through the door.

The emptiness inside was quite a surprise. In fact, not only was the room empty, but it looked as though nothing had been touched.

Infuriated, Harry slammed the door behind him as he hurried out of the lab. His Father was not here, and Harry was pretty sure he knew just where to find him.

xxx End Chapter xxx