Fidelitas

Chapter Four

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Draco stopped in his tracks at the doorway to the dining-room..

'What is it Draco? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

Lucius Malfoy was seated at the head of the table, immaculately dressed, and at perfect ease.

'Good morning father,' said Draco, recovering himself. 'You look well.'

An understatement to say the least. At their last meeting, a month ago, at Azkaban, Lucius had been a mere skeleton of his usual self. The Dementors had affected him terribly, and Draco had hardly recognized him. The man Draco currently beheld was a completely different story. He might have spent the last year and a half in the south of France for all the effect Azkaban seemed to have had on his outward appearance.

'You did not know that Azkaban was attacked last night?' Lucius said, in a voice tinged with disapproval.

'No father. I was unaware.'

'It will be different once you join our forces. Sit, Draco, we have business to discuss.'

Draco obediently took his place at the table on Lucius' side, facing Narcissa Malfoy. A team of well-trained house-elves immediately began to serve him breakfast. Lucius and Narcissa had already finished.

'I have spoken to our master about your entry into ranks, and he seems pleased at the prospect. We shall have the ceremony on Halloween.'

Draco was shocked, but knew better than to show it. Halloween was merely ten days away. He needed to decide his course of action, and quickly.

'As you say father. I cannot wait.'

Apparently pleased with the reply, Lucius rose, and left the table, followed by Narcissa, leaving Draco to collect his thoughts.

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Severus looked at the letter lying on the desk in front of him. He was in his office, where only the day before he had had his 'conversation' with Draco Malfoy. It was the younger Malfoy who was the author of the short note he had just received:

Professor Snape,

I need to speak with you. Soon.

Draco Malfoy.

Severus was unsure what to do. For all he knew, Draco might already be a Death Eater, or planning to attack Snape to prove his loyalties. On the other hand, he could be a useful spy, and perhaps the key to Voldemort's defeat. Even if that were the case, he had probably written from Malfoy Manor, hardly safe from prying eyes. And to add to that, Lucius had just escaped . . .

He re-read the letter, and stared at it, as if it might answer his questions itself. Finally he sighed and stood up, his mind made up.

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'What do your instincts tell you, Severus?'

'Oh for crying out loud, Albus! I came here for an answer. If you have one, give it to me!! What do my instincts have to do with it?'

'All right Severus, have it your way. My answer is: follow your instincts. I trust them. So should you. You have taught Draco for almost seven years. Do you think he shall help us? Or do you think he shall join his father? Think about that, and then decide what you want to do.'

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Draco untied the package from his eagle owl. He opened it to find a small golden key, and a note:

11 o'clock

It was unsigned, but he could recognize Snape's writing anywhere. A glance at the clock revealed the time to be 10:55 pm. Draco put the key in his pocket and disposed of the note. It would not do for it to be found by Lucius, or any of the house-elves.

Then made his way to the small garden adjoining Lucius' study, where the wards which covered most the mansion did not work. It had been engineered so Lucius could Apparate to Voldemort as soon as possible, without having to exit the Manor completely. Today Lucius was at a meeting himself. Smiling at the irony, Draco took out the key, and waited.

Within moments he felt a familiar tug as the Portkey transported him into an unknown location.

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Draco appeared outside a small cottage. He looked around, but did not see anyone. His left hand wrapped around the handle of his wand, he knocked twice on the door of the cottage. There was no answer. He tried the key in the keyhole; it turned. Draco turned the door-knob and went inside.

The cottage was sparsely furnished, but a fire was burning in the grate. A passage led to what he assumed was the kitchen. There was an arm chair in front of the fire; it looked old and well worn out. There were two other chairs in the room. The walls were bare and without paint. A faint smile tugged at Draco's lips as he compared his current surroundings with Malfoy Manor.

A sharp crack broke his musings, and Draco turned around to see Snape, his wand at the ready.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

'It would seem that you do not trust me, sir.'

Severus lowered his arm slowly. 'It does not do to be careless, Mister Malfoy. Nobody is above suspicion.' He still had his wand out.

Draco shrugged, and seated himself on one of the chairs. With a sharp flick of his wand Snape Summoned the armchair close to Draco, and sat down.

'Does anyone know you are here?'

'No, sir. My father is at a ... meeting.'

'Are you sure?'

'I am a Slytherin, sir. I am sure I was not followed.'

'Indeed. What is it that you needed to say to me so urgently?'

'I am to be Marked on Halloween. I need to decide. And I do not know how to.'

Severus sighed. 'This is meaningless Mr. Malfoy; I cannot make your decision for you. You must do so yourself. There is no other way.'

'How did you decide?'

Snape's mouth twisted into a crooked smile. 'I didn't have to. It was ... made clear to me. As I have told you, it is all merely a question about loyalty, and faith.'

'I thought about it, sir, and while I cannot have faith in the Dark Lord, why should I place my faith in Dumbledore? What reason has he given me?'

Severus looked up at Draco, his expression unreadable. 'You misunderstand me; it is not about whom you may have faith in, but about who may have faith in you. I was useful to Voldemort; yet would he ever have trusted me?'

Draco shifted. Severus continued.

'There is no honor among Death Eaters; you must know that by now. I was a Death Eater, yet Albus trusts me; he proves it everyday, despite everything that I have done in my life. For that trust Draco, I risked my life; and I would again, for it is worth my life. It was my choice. Your choice, however, is your own. You have to decide what is most important to you, and how you can defend it. I have chosen my side; now it is your turn.'

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