InsaneJournal

Who Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape
What Occlumency Lessons & The Astronomy Tower
When Wednesday Night
Where Brews and Bottoms, the cellar of
Status/Rating Complete // PG




****

Draco Malfoy felt a bit like Horace Slughorn, which was never a good way to feel, but he couldn’t help it because he felt a little bit like, recently, he’d been very concerned with collecting friends. He had Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Ariana Dumbledore, Arthur Weasley and now even Severus Snape among them. It made him feel much better than he had before when he felt like everyone was against them, like Ron Weasley--he didn’t want to admit it, but he was glad that ruddy Gryffindor seemed to have taken a very long walk off a very short pier. He also hoped he never came back. The world was a far better place without Ron in it.

He was sitting by the door, which he’d left unlocked, but he’d already kicked all the patrons out. Draco liked meeting with Severus here, but he also knew better than to sit behind the bar to wait for him, as the temptation would be far, far too great to have a drink or seven.

Severus remained unconvinced that occlumency lessons were a good idea, particularly for Draco Malfoy. Still, they’d already started them, and the boy tended to get himself into the most troublesome situations. It was odd how he continued to think of him as a boy, despite the fact that Draco was only seven years younger than him. Possibly because he wasn’t showing a great deal of maturity so far. Though Severus would have to admit (privately) that he hadn’t been much better himself at twenty-one.

He entered the bar, pulling off his gloves as he came in. It took him a moment to realize Draco was directly beside the door and he looked at the younger man skeptically. “You look like you’re planning an ambush.”

“Ambushes, actually, are something I can plan.” He said, rather matter-of-factly, though it wasn’t really much of a joke; not considering everything. But, at the moment he didn’t particularly care. He was just happy to be spending his evening with someone who was not a Potter, because more recently he felt his life was filled with them--and not even in the way he would have prefered it to be.

Still, he did like Albus Severus, and their evening together had been interesting to say the very least. He hoped he’d have the chance to speak with him again soon. He just seemed so different than what he might have expected Harry’s youngest to be. Perhaps Ginny Weasley wasn’t as much of a failure of a mother as, up until this point, Draco had assumed.

Or maybe she just hated her Slytherin son and left him well enough alone. Neither would have really surprised Draco, considering the rather low expectations he held to the insolate woman.

“Is there anything I can get for you before we head downstairs? Water or...juice, perhaps?”

“No,” Severus responded, looking at him flatly. “This isn’t a social call, Draco.” He locked the door to the bar before leaning against the door. Every hint of warmth had fled from his demeanor, though it was probably difficult to tell he’d had any until the traces had gone. He might have been friends with Draco, but this had nothing to do with friendship. If he let that get in the way of lessons, the boy would never learn. “Downstairs. Now.”

Draco’s eyes went a bit wide, obviously hurt bY the admonishment, but taking it all the same. He lowered his eyes and got up from his seat to lead them to the cellar door, which he unlocked. He said nothing else while he hurried down the stairs and tried to collect himself best he could before he even turned around because he’d started to grow accustomed to just how little Severus knew the meaning of the word ‘warning’.

Severus knew the meaning of the word. He just saw no use for it. He wasn’t going to have a warning when he actually needed the skill; it wouldn’t help him to always have a warning in the lesson. Of course, he tended to go the extreme with that tactic and simply didn’t give him any warning at all.

He considered attacking him from behind, but Severus waited for Draco to turn around, trying to give him a chance. When Draco turned, Severus’ wand was already out and pointed at him. “Legilimens,” he intoned, casting the spell

Fucking.

Malfoy stumbled back. He’d tried to empty his mind completely, but somewhere in his subconcious he must have still been thinking about Albus Severus. He wasn’t sure if it was lucky, or unlucky, that the man’s name brought up memories that were much more powerful than his meeting with Harry’s youngest son had been.

"Now, Draco, quickly!"

But Malfoy's hand was shaking so badly he could barely even aim his wand.

"I'll do it.” Fenrir Greyback, with his hands outstretched and clearly no intention of using a wand.

"I said no!"

"Draco," This was Alecto Carrow. "Do it or stand aside so that one of us can--"

And then he was there, bursting through the doorway. Severus Snape standing and surveying the scene, his eyes sweeping from the Death Eaters, to the enraged werewolf, to Albus Dumbledore and then finally falling on Malfoy. Draco glance at him, meeting his eyes for only a second and then looking away. He was so scared; too afraid to cry, and more afraid to act. He couldn't do it, he couldn't kill him. He was going to die.

"We've got a problem, Snape." Amycus Carrow sneered, "the boy doesn't seem able--"

But before Carrow could say anything else, another's voice broke interjected

"Severus..." Albus Dumbledore, as calm as ever.

Nothing happened for a moment, and then Snape moved, stepped forward, pushed Draco roughly out of the way.

"Severus...please."

From where Draco stood, behind Snape, he couldn't see Severus' face, instead his grey eyes were focused on Dumbledore. He wanted so badly to have the courage to say something, to stop this, to not feel so helpless. But his heart was so wedged in his throat that he couldn't even make a noise.

"Avada Kedavra."

But Malfoy wasn’t quite so silent now, he fell to the cellar floor shouting the word ‘No’ as the image of Albus Dumbledore falling backwards over the side of the tower shook through him. His heart was racing. Unlike the other memories, this one seemed to take him right back there. He was seventeen. He didn’t even feel like he was watching himself, he just felt like he was there. As if he was right there.

He sucked a breath in past his teeth because, for a moment, he’d completely forgotten how to breathe. His shoulders felt and he leaned heavily on his arms, not looking back at Snape--not daring to.

Severus’ wand had dropped to the floor with a clatter as soon as he’d heard the words spoken. He’d read about it, he’d heard people tell him about it. It wasn’t the same as watching it happen. He didn’t even try to break out of the spell, though, simply watching in horrified fascination as the murder played out.

He barely recognized himself. The ten following years had not been kind to him, but he wasn’t just noticing the physical changes. He wasn’t even sure what this future self was thinking. He wasn’t sure he could have maintained that level of detachment at this point in his life. He was just so... expressionless through it all.

He came up from the memory reeling, and he stared at Draco, even as the young man avoided looking at him. “Jesus,” he whispered under his breath. Despite having spent nearly twenty years in the wizarding world, odd how it was his father’s phrases and oaths that snuck in whenever he was upset. “I think,” he said slowly and carefully, “I need a drink.”

Before Draco had called for this lesson, he’d asked Severus Snape to help him stop feeling, and in a strange way he had. This memory made nothing else in his life matter. Petty arguments with Ginny Weasley, a night with an unknown stranger.

Harry Potter.

Malfoy’s bottom lip trembled for a moment as he dragged himself slowly to his feet, half shocked that his legs even obeyed; he felt so numb. He wanted so badly to cry, or to find some other way to let the way he felt out but couldn’t manage it. It had only been five years since that day, and sometimes he’d found himself going back there in his thoughts--but he could stop it and it still wasn’t the same as watching it unfold and experiencing it all over again.

He turned around to finally look at Severus, half expecting him to look the same way that he did in his memories, and finding some relief in the fact that he did not. When he spoke, his voice was both hoarse, and quiet. “Upstairs.”

Severus nodded, and bent to retrieve his wand. He should have more control than this, and he was a little angry at himself, but... Even though this was probably the worst Draco could show him, he was done for the night. He didn’t even want to face the possibility there was more.

Upstairs, he ignored that he was in the presence of someone who worked at the bar and went behind it himself. He studied the bottles for a few moments before selecting a bourbon. He poured some into a glass and tossed it back straight. Only then did he bother to put some ice in the glass and pour himself another.

Draco would have made a comment on the fact that Severus was drinking bourbon like both Al Potter and the man from the other night, but he didn’t have the heart. At the moment, it was just a strange coincidence and nothing more. Malfoy had never really had the stomach for whiskey, but he really thought that now was a good enough time to try and change that as any.

Following Snape behind the bar, he picked up a half-empty bottle of something Irish. He didn’t bother with a glass at all. He didn’t plan to leave any. He knew there would be no other way for him to sleep tonight, not with that image of Dumbledore so fresh in his mind.

He stood right beside Severus and looked at the bottle for a moment before he just took a sip from it. The alcohol was strong and it burned him--but still wasn’t quite able to help him get rid of that dryness and hurt in his throat.

Draco looked up and caught Severus’ eyes in the mirror.

“It was my fault.”

“Really,” Severus responded in a flat tone. “From what I saw, sure as hell looked like my fault.” Apparently he was supposed to do it, Dumbledore’s orders and all, but none of that made it Draco’s fault. He knew it was supposed to have been the boy’s task, but Draco had been set up to fail. He was sure of that, even ten years into the past. Voldemort wouldn’t have given the task to him thinking he’d succeed. If he’d known a way to face Albus Dumbledore, he would have done it long ago.

He shook his head slightly, taking another swallow of the liquor. “I don’t think I actually believed it. No matter what the books said or people told me. I didn’t believe I’d actually killed him.”

“Something that I’ve always wondered, and I know that you can’t answer. But, what I could never quite figure out was if you’d told him, or if he’d just...known. Neither, really, would surprise me.“ He took a shaky breath and another drink from his bottle. “But he’d known Severus, either way, he’d known and he’d made his plans--those plans with-with you.”

His voice broken and he looked down at the bottle in his hands for a moment, turning it to read the label. Really, though, he was just looking at the letters printed there because at the moment, he couldn’t even make words from them.

“To save me. To stop me from--from dying because I never would have. I never would have.” Draco looked at Severus. “And who am I? I can’t do anything I can’t--you said it yourself, I’ve no common sense. I’m an idiot! Who the fuck am I and why was I worth saving?”

Severus hesitated a few moments. He couldn’t say for sure, he hadn’t lived through this yet. Except he wasn’t sure he could lie right now. “It wasn’t for you.” He looked into his glass, watching the ice melt into the liquor. “Albus Dumbledore has never done anything for one person. Saving you might have been a bonus, but I can guarantee he didn’t die for your sake.”

“I wish that made me feel better.” Draco sat the bottle down on the counter behind him, crossed his arms, and shivered. The only person that really knew why Albus Dumbledore had done it was Albus Dumbledore, but Malfoy knew that Severus had to be at least partially right. “It was--I mean, like with everyone else, I just thought you--I thought you were loyal to--and by the time I knew otherwise...”

Draco shrugged weakly. There were no words to explain how stunned he’d been when, after the war, Harry had finally revealed Snape’s story. Draco hadn’t even considered it--not for a moment and it had changed his perspective on everything. Severus had always been so close to him and so close to his family. Draco had known him since he was born and it had called every interaction he’d had with his Head of House into question. How much had Snape done for him to keep up appearances with Lucius? How much had Lucius failures been Snape’s fault?

“It changed everything for me.” Draco said.

Severus could hardly justify the next ten years to Draco. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to in ten years’ time. He’d done enough in the past ten that would be difficult to explain. Not everything he’d done had been on Albus’ orders. Lucius was the best example. He’d thwarted him a time or two, but he’d also helped his old friend. It hadn’t been Lucius’ wit alone that had kept him out of Azkaban.

“You probably shouldn’t trust me,” Severus said without looking at the boy. “I’m a very good liar. The people from my future have the wrong idea. Maybe it was all for a noble cause... it still doesn’t change the fact that I’ve screwed over nearly every person I’ve dealt with. Don’t be so sure I won’t do the same to you.”

Malfoy hesitated for a moment and then just leaned a bit closer to Severus, knocking his arm against Severus’. Draco would never, ever, attempt to give Severus any kind of hug. That partial touch was meant as a a substitute.

“Severus.” It was strange, he had said only last night that he’d modeled his life as much as he could after Snape’s because it was a better path, he felt, then that of his own father’s. He didn’t have any misconceptions about Severus, and he had a pretty good feeling that he understood Snape far, far better than Harry could ever hope to. Potter’d never known some of what went on with the Death Eaters. The things that Severus had to witness or participate in. Draco only knew a fraction himself, of course, but he could say he understood. “You saved my life. I know you haven’t done it yet, but--but you can’t ask me not to trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

“But, I don’t--I don’t see you as a hero.” He picked up the bottle again, and swirled it before taking another drink, looking up at Severus and furrowing his eyebrows. He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase what he wanted to say next, because he knew it wouldn’t come out right. “For me it has always been...I don’t think you know, really, how much you mean to me.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at that. He was positive Draco did not mean that the way it sounded, but really, how could he resist? “Really, Draco,” he drawled, picking up his glass and draining the rest of its contents. “I never knew you felt that way. Perhaps I should ask you what you want for Valentine’s Day.”

“You should!” Draco laughed and shook his head, looking at Snape’s reflection in the mirror again and then turning to look at him as he stood there beside him. He actually appreciated the joke, really. It was a heavy night, and he was glad to have the moment to smile. “That isn’t--you know that isn’t what I meant! You just--for everything you did, and for whatever side you were on--you were always there for me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s funnier when the joke’s on you,” Severus told him with a smirk, setting down his glass. He reached over and plucked the bottle out of Draco’s hand, peering at the label. “You could at least pick something decent,” he told him, setting the bottle to the side, away from Draco. He grabbed another bottle from the shelf, handing it to Draco. “That one’s fairly smooth. You might as well have been drinking gasoline.”

“Yes, sir.” Draco said with mock obedience, picking up a glass for himself this time and pouring the bourbon into it. He smirked at Severus before swirling the whiskey in his glass and smelling it like it was a fine wine. Draco took a s sip and nodded, a little bit impressed with the taste. It was quite good, he had to admit. Running his tongue over his bottom lip, he grinned and then stood a bit straighter..

“Really, Severus.” Malfoy said, in a strikingly accurate impression of his father. “I’m always surprised when you show any measure of class.”

Severus rolled his eyes, stealing back the bottle to pour himself a glass. “As irritating as your father, I see,” he told him, setting the whiskey bottle between them. “I hope you can hold your alcohol better than he could. It was hard to take him seriously when he’d be drunk two or three glasses in.”

He lifted his own glass, swirling the liquid in it as he cocked one eyebrow at Draco, giving him his own impression of Lucius’ superior look. “I’ll have you know my mother’s side of the family was quite classy. I must have inherited some trace of it.”

“Mm, isn’t that fascinating.” Draco sneered the way that only a Malfoy could, and looked down his nose at Snape’s reflection in the mirror before turning back to him, a smile breaking up his stern expression. He downed the rest of his whiskey and shook his head. He liked to think that he held his alcohol better than his father. He certainly drank a lot more than Lucius ever did. Of course, for the first few years after Azkaban, Lucius was rarely without a glass of red wine, but eventually it did improve. The war ending certainly helped. It was nice, though, to speak so candidly about him, especially with Severus. Really, it was nice being candid at all with his former professor. “Merlin, my father is ridiculous. But I think--you have to really appreciate the fact that he doesn’t even see how absurd he is.”

Severus snorted slightly, shaking his head. “Most people don’t. Your father is simply an extreme case.” Hell, it wasn’t like he was a bastion of reason himself. His students tended to find him ridiculous, intimidating, or some bizarre mixture of the two.

He looked down at his half-empty glass and sighed. “I should not be doing this,” he muttered. This was going to become a bad habit. He hadn’t really gotten drunk the other two times he’d gone drinking here, but this was still more alcohol than he’d had in years.

“Mm.” Draco turned to the sink to get his former Head of House a glass of water. He was starting to feel the affects of the alcohol himself, and when he moved back to hand it to Severus. “You’re right, and you’re certainly going to regret it when an eight-year-old boy is jumping on you in the morning, begging for his breakfast. We probably should call it a night.”

He didn’t really want to see Severus go, but he felt much better now than he had earlier in the evening. Hell, he felt better now than he had in a very long time--and he was sure it wasn’t just the bourbon.