bakerstreet | i kinda like that; i wanna tap that

You know why. Because I made the Unbreakable Vow. It's my sworn duty to protect you.

[And again, all Severus can do is press his lips into a thin, firm line at the way Draco's resolve is crumbling. Severus balls his hands at his sides and for a split second he considers lifting an arm around Draco to pull him into an embrace. Not that Severus is the affectionate kind - he's far from affectionate - but he doesn't know what else to do.

He swallows thickly. Oh, how he wishes he could do something to pull Draco out of the circle of Death Eaters. Free him from this chaos, this cruelty, this inevitable bloodshed. This festering, vile future Lucius had willingly allowed - nay, forced - Draco into.

He watches the boy coming undone at the edges with the smallest hint of sadness and fear for Draco in his own eyes. He works his jaw and forces those emotions back beneath the surface. Emotions are a weakness; if he allows emotions to start leaking forth, he will become weak to the Dark Lord's Legilimency. And so, he pushes everything that could potentially expose him down, right down, until he's nothing but stony faced and stern looking again.]

Tears are a waste of energy. [He says this coolly and dismissively but not without the tiniest inflection of gentleness. But then he steels himself again.] Stop being foolish and let me help you.

[okay, god. that feels like the six hundredth time Snape's made that demand.]

And how do you plan to help me?

[Snape's words do sting, especially as Draco is used to being coddled by his parents; having been treated with a gentle hand by adults his entire life until very recently, he doesn't do well with the sternness. but Snape's, at least, is a sternness he's used to. even when acting in Draco's favor, it's always been with this tone.

he does take several shuddering breaths inward, and it calms him somewhat—he wipes an eye as well. being a little mad at Snape helps him feel less ready to fall apart with the thought of his parents being murdered.

worst of all, it's probably all being broadcasted to Voldemort. the specifics of his terror, his anxiety...]

[I'll kill Professor Dumbledore for you. But of course, he can't say such a thing, and he's extremely careful to keep his mind warded from that thought being detected.]

I'll teach you to control your emotions. To block your mind.

[Severus knew there simply wasn't enough time to truly teach Draco how to do that effectively. But that wasn't the point: if he could convince Draco to allow him to mentor him in ways of controlling his emotions, it meant he could keep a closer eye on the boy. It meant he could keep Draco as far out of harm's way as was possible. It meant that he could do his best to protect Draco with greater control if he could keep him under his watchful eye.

And he had the perfect excuse: he could tell the Dark Lord that he was preparing the boy for what was to come. Training him up to be a good soldier for the Dark Lord's cause.

He needed to drum it home to Draco, though. Make the boy think about this.

Do you want the Dark Lord knowing how weak your mind is? How weak you are? Do you want the Dark Lord to doubt you, Draco? Because he will if you keep spiralling the way you are.

[the terror is so gripping that for a moment Draco worries he might pass out. there's thrumming in his ears, and the room lurches, but he keeps it from spinning out. and he can't even help it at this point, how his eyes are red around the edges; the dampness under his eyelids; the flush of his face, expression agonized and posture increasingly weak. it terrifies him to think that even know, Voldemort could know how he was buckling to the pressure.]

I don't, [Draco sobs in a whisper, wilting somewhat at his knees.] I don't. I want—t-to serve him. I want his confidence in me.

[as it leaves his mouth, Draco wonders if it's even true, anymore. but he wants to finish this mission, that much is true.]

[It takes every ounce of self-control for Severus to remain expressionless at Draco's terrified, almost sobbed words. It takes even more self-control to keep the anger that wants to rise in him at the Dark Lord, at Lucius, for what they're putting Draco through.

Draco looks like a cornered animal. Defenceless. Weak. Frozen in terror. Petrified. And all Severus can do is blankly, impassively, coldly look on. There is absolutely nothing he can do except fulfil what Dumbledore made him promise to do when the time came.]

And you'll have it if you learn how to control your emotions, Draco. If you learn how to block your mind.

[Otherwise the Dark Lord will think you're useless and will destroy you.

He decides to pose it as a quiet, coaxing, almost gentle question this time, and he raises his hand to very lightly touch Draco's arm:]

Will you let me help you, Draco?

[Draco nervously finds Snape's touch with his teary eyes, and it grounds him a little. the room still feels unstable and the dreary colors of their surroundings seem abnormally bright. he tries to ground himself, sniffling—a tear falling off his jaw, his chin dimpled.

this approach is effective, with Draco softened up as much as he's been.]

Yes, [he agrees weakly, nodding blearily. if he could be in better control of his emotions, maybe he could eat or sleep a little more. as it is, he's lost weight, and even he can see it when bare. he's paler than even usual, darkness stuck around his eyes.

unfortunately, occlumency does not quite work that way.]

Please.

[Draco's answer is like a tidal wave of relief to Severus. He heaves a subtle sigh of relief and drops his hand away from Draco's arm, balling it into a fist again at his side.

He watches Draco, how small and fragile he looks even despite his height. He's so fragile with terror that he looks like he might break if he was to be handled even just a little too roughly. He's so terribly thin, and pale, and a picture of stress and unending dread.

Severus gives a curt, single nod.] Good.

He squares his shoulders, reigns himself back in, fully resumes the persona of cold sternness.] Now, pull yourself together. Get a grip on yourself.

We'll start tonight, after dinner. Come to my office. Come alone. Am I clear?

[Draco nods a few quick times, exhaling shakily as he blinks the last of his tears away, thankful that he didn't shake apart any further than he already has. Snape's orders are strangely effective, despite Draco's typical stubborn arrogance and flippancy.]

Alright.

[he nods again, sniffing, and takes a step back.]

Alright.

[he then skulks away at a pace that's blessedly quick for his recently sprouted long legs, and spends the rest of his evening with a distracted sort of numbness. he barely hears his name at his table, though he does well enough generally, and he leaves early without excusing himself.

and he makes very sure he is alone. he knows that specific peers of his are very adept at sneaking around. confident he hasn't been followed, however, Draco lets himself into Snape's office with light feet. he closes the door just as quietly.]

[Severus watches Draco leave, his gaze fixed on the boy's back as he hastily makes his departure. Severus desperately wishes Draco's acquiescence was enough to settle the anguish churning like acid, even just slightly, in the pit of his stomach. He turns away once the boy is out of sight and strides towards his office - the only place of refuge he has left - and when he reaches it, he shuts himself inside and takes a seat at his desk.

Elbows resting on the desk, his face hidden in his hands, Severus takes a few deep, determinedly calming breaths to still the turmoil brewing in him. Merlin, how he doesn't want to do this anymore. He doesn't want to do this anymore. He doesn't want this guilt, this shame, this heavy wage of sin eating away at him like a raging storm against a crumbling cliff.

It's his own fault, though. All of this is his own fault. Not a day goes by where he doesn't think about how this is all his fault. If only he hadn't been so horribly misguided in his youth, so bitterly driven by hatred, by a determination to exact pain on the world the way the world had exacted pain on him. If only he hadn't been so obsessed with seeking the approval of others. If only he hadn't been so obsessed with being looked upon with favour by the Dark Lord, then he never would have been so foolish as to tell the Dark Lord the Prophecy he'd overheard that night in the Hog's Head Inn. Lily would still be alive. The weight of knowing he had to slay Dumbledore wouldn't be hanging over his head like an anvil waiting to drop. Draco would never be in the position that he's in.

It's all his fault.

Severus pulls himself together, though. He always pulls himself together. No matter how pressing, taxing, terrifying, despairing the situation - he always pulls himself together. He dines in the Great Hall as per expected of all the teachers, and he does so with typical silence and disinterest in engaging with anybody else. He glances at Draco only a few times; he is otherwise very careful to assume a composure of indifference and when he finishes his dinner, he rises from the table and sweeps out of the Great Hall in a swish of black robes.

And when he returns to his office, he waits for Draco. He busies himself while doing so to keep his mind occupied, to keep his hands busy; he aimlessly sorts through a box of Potions ingredients he's been meaning to label and categorise for his stores. It helps centre his thoughts. He needs to be centred. And when he hears his office door quietly opening, he calmly glances over his shoulder before returning his attention to the vial he's currently got clasped in his fingers.]

Sit.

[His commanding greeting is quiet and composed. He places the vial back into the box, closes it and stores it on the shelf. He turns to face Draco.]

Good to see you've got yourself back under control tonight, Draco. I do hope you ate a reasonably sufficient dinner. You're going to need the energy.

[Draco does as he's told, slowly settling into the seat in front of Snape's desk. when Snape turns, Draco's hands knot nervously over eachother, in slow, anxious turns, but he otherwise seems back on his feet.

at the mention of a sufficient dinner, Draco looks at his lap. he ate, of course, but not much. he's never had a large appetite, but he would always eat well. lately, however, it's difficult to feign an appetite, even for his health.

and so his eyes find Snape again, his expression steady and even, if not somewhat somber. but, it could be from the recent thinness of his face and the darkness of the room.]

More sufficient than usual, at least.

[Severus takes a moment to quietly observe Draco: the way he's subtly but anxiously wringing his hands together; the way he sits in the chair almost as though awaiting an unpleasant verdict; how pale and withdrawn he is. He looks like a timid little boy rather than a young man on the brink of full adulthood. He looks like a terrified prisoner rather than a proud Death Eater.

It won't do. If he's to teach Draco how to face his fears, he's going to have to be ruthless. Severus starts forward and he briskly grabs Draco's arm, pulling him roughly to his feet. He wants to see anger, not fear. Emotions are things he wants to teach Draco to gain control of but until then - he needs Draco to engage, to focus, to channel himself in a way that will ultimately help him.]

Is this how you compose yourself in front of the Dark Lord? Like a scared little child? [He lets Draco's arm go with a brusque shove. Peers sharply into his eyes.] If I was the Dark Lord, I'd be disgusted by what I'm looking at right now: a coward.

[worst of all is that Draco has been effective as a Death Eater until recently; it's only recently all been shaking apart, the pressure tearing him apart. it's frustrating to get this sort of criticism when he's been doing a pretty good job as a servant, he thinks.

he hisses through his teeth in a surprised, suppressed gasp when Snape yanks him upward, and he keeps his teeth bared as he's roughly shoved free. he then neatly straightens his sleeve with slow strokes, his heavy brow furrowed pensively.]

Stop handling me!

[Draco rakes Snape's dark silhouette with his pale eyes, scowling tightly for a moment as he looks Snape back into his eyes. he shakes out his shoulder. he doesn't trust Snape as much as he used to, but he's also desperate.

he doesn't know how to refute his being a coward.]

Don't waste my time... I haven't much of it.

Neither have I. [Severus speaks these words with cold, punctuated coldness.] And I suggest you don't waste my time or the Dark Lord's time. Especially the Dark Lord's time.

[He realises his office is not going to be a safe enough place to do this. They both need to be as far away from prying ears and eyes as possible. Anybody could come knocking on his door, student or teacher. Anybody could simply stand right outside that door and eavesdrop.

Reaching for Draco's wrist, he snatches it and drags Draco with him to the door. He flings it open, checks momentarily that the coast is clear, and hauls the boy after him down the corridor, his other hand reaching into his robe for his wand to charm the door shut over his shoulder. It slams with a resounding thud.

He leads Draco down a staircase that spirals into the bowels of the castle. It's a long and tense walk, his grip tight and fierce as he wrestles Draco down the stairs after him, and eventually they come to a room at the end of another smaller and darker corridor that is far away from where anyone would think to look for them. He charms the door open - it flies open at his silent command - and he forces Draco to go in first, stepping into the room behind him.

Door shut and locked, Severus whips back around to look at the boy. And suddenly, Severus is calm again.]

It's safer here. [That's the only explanation he's going to offer. He draws in a deep breath, straightens his shoulders and begins walking a slow circle around the boy.]

So, now that we're safe... Tell me, Draco: what does the Dark Lord mean to you? And don't lie, or I'll know.

Edited 2013-09-13 02:47 (UTC)

[as Draco is hauled along, his mind seers and races. he wonders if Snape's trying to pull a fast one with him, trying to get clever—pull him aside and snuff him out, securing the spot that Draco took in place of his father under Voldemort. he numbly follows, easily able to keep his pace with Snape, and braces himself for the worst.

he does, however, stagger in, and his posture is tense and defensive. his heart is racing, and he turns immediately to face Snape. his hair barely moves with the sudden closing of the door, somewhat heavier with the sweat of his brow.

he watches as Snape passes him and grits his teeth in impatience. he feels foolish and ashamed that Snape caught him in his weakness; that he was plucked away from his own business and taken apart until the tender underneath was exposed. he did feel weak. he did disgusting. but more over, he felt that Snape was aiming to find a way to prove that he wasn't worthy of the tasks appointed him by Voldemort. he can't be sure.

he doesn't want to think that, of course. but he can't be too careful. he can't be so trusting, even if Snape is his favorite teacher. even if he's like family away from home.]

A better world, unpolluted by muggles and those associated. A world wherein we can truly evolve, to the betterment of our race.

[and the Dark Lord was respectable, but terrifying—the lines between these qualities are blurry. Draco had always known he was terrifying, but that was more objectively; he never knew, or thought, that he would be the one under Voldemort's vindictive lense.

Draco's eyes find the cobblestone floor as he carries on, completely honest throughout even if increasingly uncertain.]

An icon of unimaginable and unsurpassable power...

i kinda like that; i wanna tap that

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sorry for the length ;_;

NEVER A PROBLEM

good good

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