9

* * * Chapter 9: October 20, 1997 * * *

"Mr. Malfoy. A word."

Draco's insides felt an acute burst of gravity. He was certain the Potions Master had somehow seen the viewport spell, just like that damn cat. What else could Snape want with him after class? But ever a Malfoy and a Slytherin, he put on his coolest face and strolled to the front of the classroom without a trace of concern. Denial always begins before the accusations, after all. Draco raised his brows in polite interest and waited.

Snape peered over his shoulder as the last students filed out, then closed the door with a wordless flick of his wand. "I'm disappointed, Draco," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

I am so fucking busted. "What? Why's that?"

With a wave of his hand, Snape indicated that he should sit, while he settled stiffly onto the top of the nearest desk. "You have been given a singular honor at Hogwarts: the title of Head Boy. A position of leadership and influence. An exceptional achievement, given the political climate toward Slytherins at this time."

Draco's mouth was bone dry, but he refused to be caught gulping just yet. He nodded with as much incomprehension as he could fake, waiting for the axe to fall.

Snape glowered in silence a few seconds, then continued. "I would expect you to appreciate the opportunities this position creates." He paused again, as if expecting a response, but Draco refused to be baited. Father had taught him never to confess, only to admit, and then only if necessary.

"You are aware that the Headmaster has decreed that this shall be a year of gaiety and rejoicing?"

Okay, wasn't expecting THAT. "I remember the first day's speech, yes, sir."

"That he insists on reviving every single festive event ever celebrated in the history of Hogwarts, including a Halloween Ball, Yule Ball, Valentine Ball, bonfires at every astronomical event (even a mere partial lunar eclipse), and a Trout Fishing Tournament?" Snape looked like a bug had just flown up his nose.

"Already ordered a rod and reel, sir." Where the hell is this going?

"How splendid," Snape droned. "And what other initiatives have you taken to support the headmaster's policy?" When the best response Draco could manage was a fallen jaw, Snape rolled his eyes and hissed in a way he normally reserved for Hufflepuffs. "Use your head, boy!" he snapped, apparently unaware of his little play on words. "You've been granted your own common room, filled with the sorts of furnishings conducive to socializing. This is a large castle, Draco. I'm quite sure you weren't given that particular suite because there was no place else to put you!"

The light came on over Draco's blond head long before the rant had ended, but he couldn't stop gaping. Snape was ordering him to throw more parties. It's just not possible. His mind refused to wrap around the concept.

"Oh, shut your trap, Draco," Snape growled. "Even I can sense the prevailing winds. Dumbledore took quite a risk, bestowing the title of Head Boy on the son of a traitor. He is offering you a rare opportunity to redeem your standing, perhaps even that of your family, in wizard society. And you appear to be squandering it!"

This was at least a little more like the scheming Snape he'd known all his life, and Draco finally snapped his mouth shut, his teeth clicking audibly. "I... hadn't really thought of it," he mumbled. "It's not like the other Head Boys ever threw parties."

"It's true that Professor Umbridge discouraged them when you were a prefect, and last year was a bit of a wash, what with the great Battle of Good v. Evil surrounding the castle," Snape admitted grudgingly. "But that is no more, Draco. You are expected to support the Headmaster's policies, and right now that policy is to celebrate our redemption."

"Hmph. I don't see Granger celebrating."

Snape sat up straighter. "Miss Granger is... struggling, Draco. I remind you that she, too, is a student at this school, and as such is also your responsibility. Were you in need, I would expect her to support you."

It was politically incorrect to scoff at anything remotely Potteresque, but Draco trusted Snape. "I hope I never reach a point where I need help from her."

Snape leapt to his feet and grabbed the front of Draco's robes so viciously that the younger man reached for his wand reflexively and nearly fell off the back of the bench in a futile effort to retreat. "You listen to me, Draco Peverell Malfoy," Snape purred in his softest, most dangerous tone. "Such words will never cross your lips again. You are already indebted to Miss Granger and the others. Were it not for her, your father would be dead, your mother dead or enslaved, and you... I don't care to imagine the kind of fate the Dark Lord might have planned for you.

"Your father disappointed him, Draco. Severely. He would have considered you and your mother a pathetic reparation for that insult. I'm quite sure he would have assigned you an impossible task and then tortured you to death when you failed it. Instead here you are, living in the most luxurious suite in the castle." He finally released Draco's lapels with a small shove. "You should kneel before her every morning and swear your undying gratitude."

"Is that what you do?"

It was a testament to Draco's love for his "Uncle Severus" that he felt safe enough to mouth off under the circumstances. Snape responded in the same spirit, for he made no attempt to strangle, hex, or castrate Draco. Instead he fell silent, staring at his adversary with an utterly blank expression. Draco began to breathe hard; he'd never felt so afraid outside of Voldemort's presence.

"As of this moment, you will cease to voice your Pureblood prejudices," Snape finally began in a crisp, cold voice. "They are not only in the minority, they are an unpopular minority. You will, within two weeks, host a social event for the prefects in your suite. Following that, the Quidditch teams, the Herbology Club, then groups of students from each House, starting with the fourth-years. These are to be dignified affairs, and you will set a sterling example of proper conduct."

Snape set a hand upon Draco's shoulder, a grotesque mockery of an affectionate gesture. "You will invite Miss Granger to help you organize each of these events, even though she will refuse. You will politely ask her to assist you in setting up--tell her you'll assign it to a house-elf otherwise; that will sway her. Finally, you will stand by her as her escort during the party, ensuring that she doesn't slip off to her room, or the library. I trust I do not have to instruct you about introductions or refilling her goblet."

Draco averted his gaze. "I know how to act the gentleman's part, Uncle Severus."

"See that you do it!" the professor snapped, but he closed his eyes momentarily and continued in a kinder tone. "Miss Granger should not be brooding in her chambers. Rising to meet her need is precisely what is expected of the Head Boy. I'm quite certain that the headmaster will appreciate your efforts."

Snape released him, and Draco understood he was being dismissed. "Yes, sir," he said, though his voice was much scratchier than he would have liked.