Post-War Potions [Calix x CrypticPieces]

[Calix]

Severus Snape was not a man to mince words or spare feelings, and that simple fact hadn't ended just because the war had. The teary-eyed second year in Hufflepuff robes fleeing his office could attest to that.

"Is that a new record, Severus?" a familiar Scottish brogue questioned as he exited his office, giving him pause. "It's only the first day of classes and you've already begun your reign of terror," the voice continued. Naturally he rolled his eyes, resuming his pace down the stone corridor as another pair of feet fell in step beside him.

"I waited until after breakfast," he returned amicably, flicking his wand behind him to ensure his office was locked. He slowed and paused in front of the door to his classroom, turning to his colleague. "Will this be a prolonged discussion, Minerva? I have the 7th and 8th year class of Gryffindor and Slytherin students waiting within. I should think we would want to keep the castle in one piece after so recently rebuilding."

The elder woman peered at him through her spectacles in a no-nonsense fashion. "That's precisely why I stopped by. Some of those students have been through quite a lot, Severus. I wanted to remind you to keep that in mind today." She huffed when he gave no response other than a raised eyebrow.

"If there are... issues, I would like for you to send students to the Hospital Wing where the new therapist has taken residence."

"Yes," he began, clasping his hands in front of him, "I shall be sure to mollycoddle the lot and send them away for back pats and lollipops if needed. Is that all?"

Throwing up her hands, the headmistress turned and begin to walk away. "I don't know why I bothered." She paused then, turning back with a sharp eye, "You know, it wouldn't hurt for you to find yourself in that office either."

As she resumed her walk away Severus let out a huff under his breath and muttered, "Not bloody likely." Turning toward the door, he checked his collar before slashing his wand to open the door with a bang. His dark eyes took in the room's inhabitants in a sweeping gaze, raising his wand to shut the door behind him.

A mixture of faces looked back, the Slytherins mostly stoic while the Gryffindors seemed to encompass a broad range of emotions from resentful to neutral. Granger in particular looked almost pleased which he found inexplicably annoying. He could only thank Merlin that he only had to deal with semi-competent students who were trying for their Potions NEWT.

"Today you will begin the process of brewing Polyjuice potion. There will be no actual brewing today, Ms. Patil, put away your cauldron. Turn in your books to page 32 and carry the necessary ingredients to your workstations. Read the entire section from start to finish and then write an analysis on each component and why it is utilized."

Severus leaned back against his desk, dark eyes watching in silent judgement as the students split off into the storeroom, carrying out various ingredients. There were a few whispered side conversations which he allowed for the time being, taking a measure of this year's students and their current moods.

 

[crypticpieces]

The halls and corridors had become a curious and unfortunate study in how people reacted or didn’t react to the Death Eater who had let the Carrows in, allowed people to suffer and die, and managed to stay out of Azkaban all the same. Some managed to drift unnaturally out of his way, creating space, as though he might somehow infect them or curse them by contact alone. Others, particularly those who hadn’t participated, still carried the war around with them, feeling braver after Potter’s victory and intentionally knocked into the Slytherin or, if they weren’t that brave, hexed him from a safe distance. Even a number of the Slytherins felt an obligation to mind their own business where Draco was concerned; sympathetic they may have been, but they still had wounded reputations.

Draco dealt with each type of reaction by not reacting. He couldn’t, so getting through the halls was a trial, but it was still far better than the alternative. That he’d been talked into coming back at all felt like a horrendous mistake on his part.

One of the few who seemed steadfastly indifferent was Pansy. The dark-haired girl had spied Draco, who was at the best of times, hard to miss because of his unwavering likeness to his parents, and threaded her arm around his without missing a beat. There was the slightest flicker of tension from Draco that came and went from the contact, but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge her.

“Didn’t see you earlier,” she sniffed as a means of not asking the question of where he’d been. In her free hand, she held out something carefully wrapped up and bound with a little string. “Go on then. Don’t be suspicious about it.” The corners of her mouth had turned up in a smugly satisfied expression at her final comment, which she knew would get him to do as she’d wanted.

Draco snatched the makeshift gift and tucked it away without a word of thanks. He didn’t feel particularly grateful for the mothering. When it seemed unlikely that Draco was going to verbally respond, Pansy’s eyes rolled, although they both took a moment’s pause in the doorway of the Potions room. “Bizarre,” she muttered at the scattered collection of students not fighting for survival but tentatively coexisting.

It was Draco who moved first, Pansy simply following because she was unwilling to detach herself until the blond found somewhere to sit. She perched herself next to him and launched into a lengthy story with the freckled girl in front of her about a former Slytherin having recently attempted dating an Auror and how awfully it had gone. After a while, Draco had to stop listening.

He’d gotten distracted by the know-it-all Gryffindor whom he hadn’t seen up close in months. For a second too long, he watched her, and then Pansy was elbowing him and the flicker-flash of a memory of not that long ago vanished. “A galleon Snape sweeps in dramatically,” Pansy proposed.

This was the process of getting back to normal, and it was ludicrous and trivial. “We’re not first years,” he responded flatly and without explanation.

“No, but he’s been doing it for ages. I think he likes to make the Gryffindors jump.” It was just then that the door banged open. The unexpected sound caused Draco to flinch, his attention going briefly back to Hermione before sliding to Snape who would, it seemed, be himself in perpetuity despite everything. Pansy let out a high-pitched squeak that melted into muffled laughter. “Told you,” she whispered hoarsely, fighting down another round of mirth.

Normalcy settled in: the instructions, calling someone out, the noise that signaled people getting up to do as they were told… Draco had already left Pansy by the time she’d gotten herself under some semblance of control. By all accounts, Draco seemed perfectly fine. Granted, he wasn’t the boy he used to be, but he also wasn’t the husk of a human he was at the height of things.

With ingredients procured, Draco returned to where he’d left his book open. The only person to come into contact with him at all during the shuffle was Blaise who only nodded after he’d managed to get Draco’s attention. They hadn’t spoken at all since. Draco was tired of guessing exactly what motive each person he used to be friends with had for avoiding him. Well, they preferred not to be seen with him. That was really it. It wasn’t as though they had some revelation that transformed them into better people.

Setting the ingredients aside, he peered down at the pages, vaguely aware of when Pansy returned, although her attention had blissfully been pulled away from him for the time being.

 

[Calix]

Severus waited until every student had returned to their desks, his eyes carefully cataloguing the ingredients they'd removed. He kept a meticulous list of his stores and some of the ingredients in Polyjuice were highly controlled substances. It still irritated him to this day that he'd had materials stolen for it, not once, but twice. And the first had been by a Gryffindor in this very room.

Pushing off from his desk, he walked slowly and methodically between the rows, pausing to look over the ingredients that each student had gathered. At least none of them had managed to bring back incorrect ingredients, which meant they could all read. Circling back to the front of the room he spoke, "Polyjuice is one of the most difficult potions you will attempt to brew in this class," he began. "It requires great attention to detail, a modicum of patience, and an extended preparation period. At the end of the term your final grade will be dependent on the efficacy of your final product."

Turning to face the class once he'd reached his desk he continued, "As all of you should know, Polyjuice is a transfiguration brew used to mimic another's appearance. This potion is only to be used for human subjects," the last was said as his eye stopped on Granger who immediately flushed red. It was mollifying, if a little petty, so he allowed his slight prodding to stop there.

Severus turned dismissively, allowing them to continue reading through their books while he sat at his desk and picked up the papers from his last class. Slowly, the tension that had been lingering in the class dissipated as quills began scribbling on parchment and pages turned, everyone's focus redirected. It was now that he glanced up to truly gain an insight into the classroom's inhabitants.

Unsurprisingly there was no mingling, a firm divide between the red and green in the room. Some things never changed. His dark gaze swept through his pack of snakes, noting Draco's position in particular. It was no longer centered; he was no longer the key player among Slytherins. It was now Ms. Greengrass and Mr. Zabini it seemed. Not surprising since both families had taken a somewhat neutral stance in the war.

Almost all the students had a stiffness in their shoulders and he noticed Ms. Weasley's gaze shifting up from her pages every minute or so. She would take stock of her surroundings, gaze flickering sideways to Granger, up to him, and then turn back to the pages as if momentarily assuaged. Only time would ease some of the deep-seated tension, though he doubted that the colors would ever mix in his lifetime. He would have to watch over his snakes closer this year than ever.

Some of these students, the edgy or bolder Gryffindors in particular, were undoubtedly land mines ready to blow at the slightest provocation. He would keep them busy with his classwork at the very least. It wouldn't do to let their minds wander much this year or allow them time to stew. He knew that from experience.

 

[crypticpieces]

At about the time that Snape had mentioned something about the efficacy of their final product, Draco had stopped processing the words he was reading. His gaze inched back along the text until something felt familiar again, but things weren’t sticking like they had been moments before. Even without recognizing what caused the sudden unease, he knew returning had been a mistake, but he was here now and there was no backing out of it.

If anything helped his derailed thoughts, it was the sudden calling of attention to Granger. Draco kept his eyes on his book, but the quiet huff from him was, perhaps, the distant relative of a laugh. Pansy, who was now taking notes and doodling lacewing flies on her parchment, had been right in calling this bizarre.

In the relative silence that fell into place, a loud clatter broke through the uneasy air. A student in the far corner was trying to save her ingredients. Some had tipped over, some took only seconds to roll off the desk and shatter. She shot up out of her seat while in the process of turning a violent shade of scarlet. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened.” Another student nearby had decided it was his valiant duty to try to help her, while others looked on. Some had jumped up, too sensitive to the potential for danger, but others were merely thankful for a reprieve from the reading.

Even Draco had taken to looking at the unfolding scene, if only out of a passing annoyance at the disruption. It meant that in those few moments of distraction, he missed movement he should have been looking for. Someone had taken the opportunity to blow something too close to him; the whole event had been orchestrated for that particular attack: a well-aimed jinx to spill the ingredients to create the distraction for already jumpy students and watchful staff and that urge of people ready to leap into action provided the excuse to get up, snatch something, and move around.

Although he reflexively jerked back, Draco had sharply inhaled and faint traces of it lingered on his clothes and skin. When nothing immediately happened, Draco brushed at his sleeves without bothering to search for the source of the attack. The source didn’t matter. It wasn’t as though he was going to run to the faculty or his parents or retaliate himself. The last thing he wanted was to draw any attention.

However, that wasn’t his fate. It may not have been the flashy, immediate spectacle, but that little innocuous powder, whatever he’d accidentally ingested was starting to sting. It started in his lungs, the pressure like every breath was wrapped up in a thorn bush. It wasn’t stopping him from breathing, but every time hurt. There was also something like a silver light under his skin, running through the veins, that stung like nettles.

Draco had set his hands against the edge of the desk, as though he had intended to push away and get up, but his shoulders were tense and his head was bowed, trying to get through the process of breathing. It was that pained bit of gasping that made Pansy look away from what would have otherwise been a very amusing, if not idiotic display. “Nothing ever—”

It took her approximately two full seconds to register what had happened. She jumped up, knocking her chair over, which pulled more focus. “Professor!” she yelped, her fingers flexing as she resisted the urge to grab Draco before she knew she wasn’t going to suffer the same fate.

 

[Calix]

Severus passed his gaze over lesson plans from the previous two years that Slughorn has taught, his brow furrowed as he searched for the gaps in instruction that he would need to address in this year's students. The old man was competent, but he put too emphasis on the brewing process itself and not enough on the basic components and preparation. Not to mention, it was obvious from the writing on some of these that the old Potions master had spent much of last year deep in his cups. Of course Severus had already known that fact having witnessed it often as Headmaster.

He was looking over the nearly illegible scrawl when a disturbance made his head snap up and he ignored the ache that arose in the quickly stretched skin on his scarred throat. Rising to his stand, his gaze quickly narrowed in on the ingredients that had fallen to the ground, an irritated curl rising on his upper lip as he moved around his desk.

This was the worst class for such an incident. Multiple students had stood and the air seemed like it was sparking with agitation. "Sit down!" he ordered loudly, wand in his grip as he passed through the tables his eyes blazing as they caught on the seventh year student who had set this into motion. Before he could reach the spilled ingredients, a shout and chair clattering to the ground pulled his attention oncemore.

Quickly his eyes found those of a panicked Ms. Parkinson who was hovering near a gasping Draco. Something was definitely wrong. Bloody fuck. Cutting his wand sharply through the air, Severus sent the tables, chairs, and students that blocked his way sliding to the sides, ignoring the surprised cries of alarm.

Circling the table, Pansy jumped out of his way as he gripped Draco's shoulders, twisting him to get a look at the problem. The blonde's eyes were heavily dilated and it was clear that breathing was a painfully taxing exercise. Streams of silver pulsed beneath his skin, spidering across his face in the surface capillaries. Severus' mind raced and as he caught sight of the slight sheen of a powder dusting Draco's collar.

Releasing one shoulder, a forefinger dragged through the substance, lifting it to observe. There was a silvery glow that matched the color swimming beneath Draco's skin. Crushed ashwinder eggshell. Toxic if inhaled, it constricted airways and bloodflow alike, leaving a sensation of fire in its wake. Could lead to stroke or asphyxiation depending on dosage and relative health.

Though it wouldn't be affected by a beozor or any known antidote, there was a simple counter agent until the effects wore off. Raising his wand swiftly, Severus spoke, "Accio fire seeds." A glass vial with red molten colored seeds the size of quill nibs zoomed out from the storeroom to smack into his waiting hand. Removing one, he pressed it against Draco's lips.

"Bite down on this," he ordered, pushing one of the warm seeds into the gasping mouth. "Don't swallow the seed pod." Fire seeds were used in fire breathing potions and had the capability to make one immune to fire for short periods of time. It wouldn't get rid of the toxin, but it would allow Draco's body to form something of an immunity until the inhaled eggshell finished making its way through the young Slytherin's system.

 

[crypticpieces]

The order to sit had the girl who’d lost her ingredients to the floor banging her head on the desk as she nearly jumped out of her skin, although the boy was slower to react, almost reluctant to give up helping. Other students were either quickly dropping into chairs or slowly doing so depending on how intimidating they judged the Slytherin Head of House to be.

At least everyone was resigned to returning to normal until the mess that had been unfolding in the front corner of the room was wholly forgotten in favor of the new drama in the back. Heads swiveled, and students who had once been in the way found themselves suddenly not, while others dodged out of the way of moving furniture and people. Some shorter students propped themselves up on their toes to try to see, but they remained where they were or where they’d been slid off to.

Draco didn’t actively resist being moved, but the tension he was holding trying to prevent more pain didn’t make it easy. He hadn’t wanted to release his grasp on the edge of the desk. When one hand finally slipped so that he could be turned, it took several seconds for his fingers to curl into his palm, which eventually pressed down onto his leg.

On some level, he did know Snape was there, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to feel one way or another about it. In the same way, he couldn’t be bothered with abruptly finding himself the center of attention in a classroom with a good number of people who were probably just delighted at the turn of events.

With some considerable effort, Draco convinced his teeth to come down against the seed, although they obstinately chattered until he sorted out how to pull in air through his teeth and keep a hold on the pod enough to crack it. The feeling that followed wasn’t quite cooling, but it was soothing in its way. Little by little, the feeling of having needles run through his veins subsided and, in turn, the tension in his body faded into an occasional shudder and then to nothing at all.

While even his breathing slowed and quieted, the light that ran under his skin persisted, the telltale sign the powder was still there for the time being. Eventually, what he’d inhaled would dilute and the interesting little effect would disappear completely. Until then, whatever sense of vanity he had left intact could cope with an innocuous glow.

For a few seconds longer than strictly necessary, gray eyes peered at the man in front of him, finally able to reasonably comprehend what and who he was looking at. There wasn’t anything clear or definitive in the look. Rather it was an uncertain, jumbled mess of conflict. Then all the sharpness snapped back into place, and Draco’s gaze ticked toward the other students.

Pansy looked stricken with unexpected relief, while the rest of the expressions he could see varied widely. Those who worried about what Draco was capable of made a point of glancing somewhere else when he did look at them, while those who assumed that he was harmless stared back until he stood. The movement made those brave souls blink or find something else to fixate on. Others, like the Weasley girl, who had made a point of being particularly rash, seemed more interested in trying to protect people who certainly didn’t need protecting.

The parchment on which Draco had been keeping notes was shoved into his book and he flipped it closed. Draco paused for an instant, as though he might wait or ask for permission to leave, but it was so quickly decided that he didn’t need it that he abandoned the book and notes and moved for the door. The mere thought that he might have still been bound by the social expectations of the school was nonsense.

 

[Calix]

Severus watched Draco's face intently as he heard the crunch of the seedpod between chattering teeth, searching for a sign of relief. The lines of pained tension in his features slowly eased, though there was still the silver gleaming fractured lines mapping his face. It was to be expected, but it was still a fascinating effect that he momentarily followed.

Seeing his breathing come easier Severus focused back on Draco's eyes, seeing first the flare of recognition and then something all too familiar. It was like an echo of feeling, a lost uncertainty given life in those grey eyes. A look he had hoped would've been permanently banished with the Dark Lord's demise which in itself was a foolish notion. Severus knew all too well that the things they had both seen at the Dark Lord's side wouldn't be so easily overcome. Nor would the surrounding distrust of those who didn't understand.

As quickly as he recognized it, the look was gone, replaced by a familiar coldness as Draco assessed the room. Severus took a step back to try and give some space as Draco shoved his things together before watching as the other decided to abandon the effort altogether. The potions master didn't even attempt to stop the boy, but he knew it would be unwise to leave him to wander the corridors alone.

"Ms. Parkinson," he spoke low, waving his wand to gather the contents of Draco's bag together, sending it all to his own desk for safekeeping and insurance. "Please ensure Mr. Malfoy finds his way to the hospital wing, and inform him that I will expect his return after classes to check his condition." She nodded, quickly gathering her own things to try and follow after her housemate.

Scattered whispers began to grow as Parkinson left the room and Severus spun in place. "Quiet," he hissed loudly, his tone low in warning. "Clean everything up and retake your seats. Miss Robins..." he drawled out, eyeing the Gryffindor who was now picking up the bits of her ingredients from the floor, "Forty points from Gryffindor and you will stay behind after class." It would let the silly chit stew over what he was going to do for the remainder of class, but even that wasn't enough. Severus had no doubt that this had been an orchestrated fiasco and it made his blood boil.

He returned to the front of the class, arms folded in front of him as he monitored them more closely. Once class had ended, he assigned a thirty inch parchment on the history and legalities of Polyjuice before dismissing them, much to their chagrin. He also took great joy in assigning Demelza Robins detention for the next three weekends so that she could assist with restocking his potions stores.

When they had all finally left, Severus ran one hand across his eyes and released a heavy sigh, then raised his other to rub over the fabric that covered his throat. It still hurt when he raised his voice, the area slow to fully heal. Lowering his hands, he summoned one of the house elves, requesting tea for before his next class. Day one and the targeting had already begun. He had no doubt that his other Slytherins would recieve similar treatment, but no one had as large of a target as Draco Malfoy. This was going to be a long year and Severus needed a plan.

 

[crypticpieces]

By the time Pansy was in the hall, Draco was pulling what was left of the seed out of his mouth as he marched off toward the common room. “Draco,” she called, bustling in an awkward not-quite walk to catch up. While he’d considered ignoring her, she was nothing if not persistent, as they all were, so he did the only thing he could to get her to stop badgering him: he stopped and looked back at her.

“What?” His tone was surprisingly calm and even for someone who could have been far worse off than he was. Granted, he had suffered worse in the past few years. No student here was seriously going to cause him that much distress. It was easy to dismiss the incident as something that could have been incidentally deadly, if it even would have been. He wasn’t certain, and he hadn’t felt inclined to ask.

Pansy slowed and stopped, watching the glow trace along something under his skin. Recalling that he was waiting on her, she furrowed her brow. “I’m meant to see you’re looked at by Pomfrey or, you know, someone. You’re still… you’re glowing a bit.”

“It’s fine,” he remarked, turning back in the direction he was headed, knowing she certainly would follow, but Draco did bother looking down at his hand as though he hadn’t fully realized what ‘glowing a bit’ meant. It looked, at a glance, like flashes of lightning spider-webbing across the back of his hand. Fantastic.

“You’re also meant to go back after classes. And regardless if you think it’s fine, you’re going to see her, aren’t you? You weren’t fine a few minutes ago.” The silence made her press her lips together. “Look, if you don’t go, I’m going to get into trouble over it, aren’t I? I’d rather not, and do you want that fate befalling your last friend?”

Draco turned on her so suddenly she nearly ran into him. “I didn’t ask you to be my ‘last’ friend, did I? I haven’t asked anything from you.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even bother with that snide tone he had been fond of. Instead, he remained as calm as he’d ever been, although his tone was low, carrying an underlying edge. “You made a choice that you ought to rethink before everyone you still gossip with turns on you.”

It didn’t bother Draco that Pansy had insisted on remaining his friend. In some way, he was grateful for her, even if she was suffocatingly mothering and like a viper all at once. However, he didn’t want her to continue pushing, trying to corner him into doing what she wanted. He’d had more than enough of that.

Pansy’s wide eyes narrowed and her chin lifted. “Fine. Do what you want, but I’m not being scolded because you’re impossible.” She brushed by him without looking back.

While it wasn’t his original intent, Draco did go to the hospital wing. He let the woman there fuss at him, remind him how lucky he was, ask over what had happened (which he wasn’t interested in answering), and keep the more harmful effects of the powder at bay until it had mostly run its course. At least staying with her meant he could avoid other people.

At the end of the day, Draco returned to the Potions classroom, certainly not because he’d been asked to but because he did need his book. He loitered in the hall until the last student had darted out of the room and down the hallway before he appeared in the door, leaning one shoulder against the frame as his parents would surely hate and no one else would dare be so indifferently casual in front of Snape. “Parkinson said you wanted me back.”

Draco had tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers and his gaze was slowly hunting the room for his things. His aim was to get in and get out. Avoiding everything that had transpired was just as miserable as having to deal with it, and he’d rather not play pretend.

 

[Calix]

Severus registered the presence in the doorway of his classroom but continued shuffling the papers together that had been strewn over his desk. He'd only made it through the 5th year lesson plans that Slughorn had left and he wanted to finish the work tonight. Perhaps over a tumbler of whiskey. Finally his eyes flickered up to the front of the class where Draco stood.

"Indeed," he answered, flicking his wand to reinstate the ward on his storeroom. When that was done he set a path for the blonde and the wide doorway. "I've placed your things are in my office," he explained, sweeping past the nonchalant teen.

The walk to his office was a short one and he entered the familiar office, leaving the door open for Draco to do the same. A cauldron bubbled with some black substance in the corner but Severus didn't give it anything more than a glance. It still had weeks to go before the next phase of the brew was ready.

Setting the papers he held on the desk within, he took a seat in the worn upholstered wing back, settling comfortably into the deep cushion. "Take a seat," he spoke, gesturing towards the chair on the opposite side.

Severus leaned both elbows on the desk, laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top. "What do you want to do with your life Draco?" he asked, his tone less sharp than usual.

Truth be told, he held something of a soft spot for the Slytherin. Sure, his poncier tendencies in his early years had been highly irritating, but there was a certain kinship there. A recognition of another person who had faced similar tribulations and made similar mistakes.

The professor pushed off from the desk and leaned back as he studied the boy in front of him. Draco was a young man, coming into his own, but a single mark on his forearm would haunt him for the rest of his life. Severus knew that better than any. There were options ahead, but none of them would be easy.

 

[crypticpieces]

At the information that what he’d come for was somewhere else, Draco scrutinized a corner of the room. He considered the likelihood that he could get by without his bag. Probably, yes, although it would have been inconvenient. After a moment, he pulled in a slow breath and followed Snape the short stroll down to his office.

It was, again, an alarmingly normal scene. If Draco had imagined the whole world changed after the war, he was consistently being thrown off that it wasn’t actually that different in appearance. The office looked almost as it always had, minor variations from it being used aside. From the doorway, he watched the older man move about and settle in. The offer of a seat meant it wasn’t a quick in and out.. He set his teeth together, but he did cross the threshold and sit.

Despite what anyone thought about the Potions professor, Draco had always been fond of him. It was probably exacerbated by that fraction of favoritism that went beyond house allegiance. After all, even other Slytherins were careful around him, not least of all because he made a habit of being unapproachable. However, that question about the rest of his life came as an unwelcome surprise.

Draco sat back and he looked just over Snape’s shoulder, considering whether he wanted to have the conversation. He didn’t. It left him too vulnerable. “Does it hurt still?” Divert attention it was. The silver gray eyes shifted fractionally toward where Nagini would have bitten. Although Draco’s expression was relatively neutral, his aim wasn’t kindness. That wasn’t what he’d learned. What he’d learned from his aunt was to put pressure where something might hurt. “You were very lucky,” he added slowly.

He knew what he was doing wasn’t fair, particularly because Snape–Severus–had saved him on more than one occasion, even at the expense of someone else. Draco had done the same to Pansy earlier. It was the kindness that grated on him. If he couldn’t see the cost of it, then he couldn’t reasonably trust it.

 

[Calix]

Severus repressed the urge to check his collar or give any indication that the words affected him. Still, he couldn't manage to repress the slight curl of his lip as Draco's eyes flickered to his throat. Severus had been so close to dying and it wouldn't have necessarily been unwelcome.

His life had been one manipulation and ploy after another. In short, he had been tired. But, as luck or lack of luck would have it, he'd survived long enough for medical attention to save his life and his voice.

"Yes," Severus responded, his voice clipped. It did still hurt from time and he supposed he was lucky. Now that his mind was clearer and he was away from the endless subterfuge, he did want to live. Perhaps not forever as the Hogwarts Potions Master, but there was still plenty of time to figure his life out.

Heaving a sigh at his own natural defensiveness, Severus allowed his head to roll and stretch the skin of his neck, a portion of the white scars peeking over his collar at the movement. "There are good days and bad, but it is healing," he spoke, the words more forthcoming than he was used to. The following silence felt awkward and tight.

"Today was only the beginning," Severus finally ventured. "And it will only get worse before it gets better." He needed to feel out Draco's mood about his status here and if the boy really wanted to persevere to finish this year. If so, he would do what he could to facilitate.

 

[crypticpieces]

The initial curt response made him tilt his head a fraction, a subtle shift suggesting satisfied interest. It surprised him a bit to have gotten even that much. The added information made it all the better, although Draco knew how his mind was cataloging the information. It was hard to stop now when not everything needed to be stored to be used as a weapon later.

Draco wasn’t particularly eager to revisit the past, even a moment of it that wasn’t his, but he was glad to not have to consider the uncertainty of his own future. It was looming somewhere beyond the grounds of the school. He did, after all, have to get through the year in one piece, another point he didn’t particularly want to touch.

It was tempting to claim that no one would dare do worse than today, but they would try. Too many of them had lost loved ones, and Draco was an easy target because if he wanted to stay out of trouble, he wouldn’t fight back. The steady stare he’d maintained dropped. “I know,” he admitted quietly. All of the sharpness and calculated consideration had disappeared for just a moment. He tugged the cuff of his sleeve once before looking up again. “I hadn’t expected it to be easy.”

Draco stood, hands returning to his pockets. “I’d rather not have a chat about the obvious,” he began flatly. “I’ve very little control over what other students do, including disrupting your class, or how they think of me. I would suppose you know that and aren’t going to mention what happened earlier.”

“May I have my things back?” At one point, Draco had been too liberal with what he was willing to share with people who would listen. It had lasted right up until he’d felt the real danger of failing to fix the vanishing cabinet. He’d never quite recovered after that. If he had, the conversation they were having would have gone very differently. Now, he was skittish at best and could be outright hostile at worst. This, at least, had been relatively polite.