Among Other Things

Disclaimer: I do not own HP!

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews!

Chapter 6

Headmaster’s Office, Hogwarts…

I always detest returning from a meeting to my false master.

The old fool, who believes himself all-powerful, has become more insane over the last few years, and it has become more difficult to predict his plans.

One such misinterpretation led to the demise of the Potters. After all, the old fool did covet their son’s power and wanted it for his own.

I, of course, did not see that motive until some time after the event. However, I have spent years watching the man, and now I feel that I am confident that I can, at the very least, prevent him from discovering his true whereabouts.

When I walk into his gaudily decorated office, almost shrine, surrounded as he is by implements that represent the boy (red and gold, the phoenix, Godric Gryffindor’s sword), I wish that I could just skip over this meeting. It would be pleasant to not be forced to live it, but the gods are known for never answering my prayers, so I do not even try.

Seating myself in an overly plush armchair, I gaze into the twinkling blue eyes as I refuse a lemon drop I am certain is laced with Veritaserum or another truth serum.

The many portraits of the past headmasters are silent, as always, showing their disapproval, in their own way, of the old coot’s actions.

Really, what he has done to the boy is almost inhuman.

I, living so closely under his thumb, can hardly disapprove and have been forced to keep up the act of a nasty evil git of a Potions Professor in order to distract everyone from the fact that I actually do care about the boy.

“What news do you have for me, my boy?” he asks between sips of his favorite tea, also laced, though whether it is a cheering charm or a calming draught that affects it I have yet to determine.

I despise the tea that he consumes.

“The Dark Lord broke through the wards on Potter’s home and killed the Muggles,” I state calmly, not wanting to reveal my information too soon.

“Yes,” Dumbledore says. “We found the remains of the house shortly after the attack.”

He falls silent waiting for me to speak, but I have not been a spy for so many years without learning patience.

Of course, the old man has been playing this game for years as well.

Eventually, I break the silence, confident that my mind is secure against any possible attack.

“The Potter brat was not in residence,” I state, loathing saturating my voice. “The Dark Lord currently has several people out looking for the boy. He hopes to find him before the beginning of the school year,” I lie.

Almost immediately, I feel the man’s silent Legilimency hitting me full force, and I quickly steer him to the part of my mind that I want him to see.

As always, he is fooled by my extensive skill, far more than he has, by the way, and leans back in his chair. “Very well, Severus. I am relieved that he not in Tom’s clutches, as of yet.” I nod, my hands curling into fists in my robes.

He did not even question why the boy left. He does not even care about the boy as long as he is alive.

“This calls for an emergency meeting of the Order then,” Dumbledore states cheerfully. “Make sure you are there tonight.”

I nod once more and then quickly make my way out of the repulsive office, my robes billowing out behind me (the weeks of practice are still worth it) as I walk.

Back in the office, Dumbledore smirked victoriously.

The Dark Lord did not have him; there was still hope.

Idly toying with the thought of his next course of action, he reached for a sheet of parchment and began constructing a lengthy letter to Ronald Weasley.

Malfoy Manor…

I have been a member of Tom’s circle for years now and I have never once regretted my decision, especially after witnessing Dumbledore’s treatment of first the Potters, Black, and the Boy-Who-Lived.

Being known as a supposed, but never proven, Dark Wizard has certainly helped me further my own aims.

Instead of being a simpering fool, working under Dumbledore, I obtain whatever I want with a few veiled threats. It is a glorious existence, and I revel in the power given to me by my lover, Tom.

It is somewhat surprising that I have ended up where I am, since I always imagined that I would spend the rest of my days with Narcissa.

She, however, died over a year ago in a botched attempt to spy on the Order. I mourn her still, but ever since I have begun the relationship with Tom, the mourning has been easier.

Draco, my only son, has also helped in that he reminds me of what it is like to be young and almost carefree. He reminds me that I used to have that, and that it was Dumbledore who took everything away from me.

Looking at the letter sent by my Tom this morning I feel a small smile appearing, a not so rare occurrence these days.

He is always so knowing, already realizing what I need to hear to stay out of the well of depression that I constantly seem to sink into, even after a year of getting used to the idea that she is gone.

“Father?”

Startled, I look at my son, apparently just out of the Floo (judging by the soot n his clothes), and motion for him to join me on the bench.

It is summer and the gardens look beautiful, mostly thanks to me, not that anyone outside this family will ever know of my little secret. A Malfoy loving Herbology and gardening was unheard of, and I prefer to keep it that way.

Draco sits next to me, looking calm and collect as always, and gazes at one of the nearby rose bushes. It is a while before he speaks. “Are you going to sit out here all day?”

I fold the letter and place it within the confines of my robes. “Not all day, Draco. Where have you been?”

Surprisingly, he blushes, an interesting contrast against his blonde hair and ice gray eyes. “I went to go visit Blaise,” he says suddenly, his gaze turning firmly towards the ground.

One of my eyebrows arch as I wait to discover just what my foolish young son has done to make himself blush in just that way.

“He was…busy, with someone else.”

And not me, I finished silently.

I had been aware of my son’s interest in Blaise Zabini for some time. However, I had done nothing to help or hinder the possible relationship, because I knew how much Zabini loved to be with other people, every single night.

“He promised that we could get together this summer,” Draco muttered bitterly.

“I have told you about promises from other people, son. They mean next to nothing.”

Scowling, his eyes turned to mine, almost shocking, as always, in their exact likeness.

“I know, I just…thought he liked me.”

I could not find an answer to that, so I waited.

“Is there something wrong with me?”

I sigh, wondering how on earth someone could put that insecurity into his brain, especially after all the times I have told him that he is a Malfoy and above everyone else.

I reach over and gather him into my arms. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you,” I fiercely whisper. “And I do not ever want you to think of yourself like that again.”

We stay there like that for some time, both giving and receiving comfort, before Draco finally pulls away and makes a futile gesture to wipe away the signs that he has been crying.

“Thank you, Father,” he states, formal once again.

I nod and get to my feet, somewhat hungry after hours of sitting out here in the sun.

“I believe dinner should be ready by now,” I state calmly, looking towards the manor, one of the greatest in Britain.

“It looks to be about that time. I hope Tipsy made those tarts that I like.”

Mentally I smile and hope that Tipsy has made those tarts, since they are, after all, my favorite food as well.

Together we make our way inside, and I find the time to hope that maybe, someday, everything will be as I have wished it.

End of Chapter 6! Please review!!