"Professor...where are we?"
"Someplace safe. For the time being."
Draco looked at the humble surroundings and for a moment thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. Besides that oaf Hagrid's poor excuse for a home, he had never seen such awful living conditions. His gaze fell on Professor Snape. The head of Slytherin house (or former head now, Draco supposed) was opening cabinets and filling his robes with all manner of odds and ends. Draco immediately recognized these as potion ingredients. Then it struck him.
"Professor...is this your house?" he asked. The thought was absurd, but Snape was clearly familiar with the surroundings.
Snape turned on him and held him with the same fierce gaze he had as he ran Draco out of Hogwarts and across the grounds. The sharp nose stood out in the confined space and managed to make the professor more menacing than usual. "Technically, yes. It was my childhood home. What there was of it." The last was more of an afterthought and, Draco thought, not meant for him. As he watched Snape busy himself, the events of that evening started to catch up with him. It all did not seem real. He wondered what Voldemort would do to him - and his family - for his failure. He had to try to play this off somehow.
"I would have done it, you know," Draco spat out. "You just wanted the credit for yourself. I was in control of the situation."
Snape turned on Draco like a whip and pinned him against the wall by the throat. "Listen good, young Malfoy, if you want to maintain the shred of sanity you have left in that spoiled head of yours." Snape leaned in close. "The Dark Lord will not be fooled by your petty lies. Your thoughts are an open door to him. There is no hiding behind your father or your wealth. You will be as exposed and raw as if you were a newborn child. I am your only hope of surviving. Remember that and treat me with the respect I deserve! You can start by not lying to me. I would expect that of Potter, but not of you." He let Draco drop to the floor unceremoniously and continued his search.
Draco picked himself off the floor, rubbing his throat. Professor Snape had never spoken to him like that before, much less been violent. He found a chair at the bare wood table in the middle of the room and climbed into it. Draco figured he did not have much choice but to trust him. After all, hadn't the professor proven beyond a doubt that he still worked for Voldemort? To Voldemort, killing Dumbledore would be the ultimate act of loyalty. Clearly, he had underestimated Professor Snape.
The professor was now standing in front of the door, examining the room. His eyes were darting this way and that as if he was counting something in his head. His mind seemingly made up he walked over the far side of the room and grabbed Draco by the arm.
“We should be leaving,” Snape announced and pulled Draco out of the chair. Draco suddenly felt panicked. He was not prepared to face Voldemort yet. He needed time “ and advice. This was too soon.
“Wh-wh-“ Draco started and found it difficult to even speak.
“We’re not going to visit the Dark Lord, if that’s what has you speechless,” Professor Snape responded. Draco felt a moment’s relief at this and felt his heart settle back in his chest.
“Where then?” he asked.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Hang tight to my arm and concentrate on Disapparating.” Draco shut his eyes and focused. He felt that familiar pulling feeling and before he knew it, the smell of dust and mold was replaced by the scent of oiled wood. He opened his eyes to an elaborate living area. An enormous fireplace crackled and furniture of exquisite quality adorned the room.
“Severus. Nice to see you again, sir. I trust all went as planned.” Draco turned to see none other than Rufus Scrimgeour walking toward them. Draco noticed he looked tired and strained. Despite this, he was still an imposing figure.
“Indeed,” Snape said and looked at the floor. Scrimgeour patted Professor Snape on the back and led them all toward the fire.
“You did what had to be done. He knew what he was doing. You have to have faith in him.”
“My faith was never in question,” Snape responded. “It didn’t make the task any more bearable.” Scrimgeour gave Snape a weak smile and nodded quietly.
“You’re going to the funeral then, I take it?” Snape asked.
“Oh, most certainly. It would look out-of-place if I wasn’t there. While I am there, I think I will give Harry one more test to see where his loyalties are. Couldn’t hurt.”
“Where is he?” Snape asked. Scrimgeour looked confused for a moment until Snape looked down at Draco.
“Ah, yes. This way. In the library,” Scrimgeour replied and led them to a door at the far end of the room. Scrimgeour opened the door and stepped aside. Draco looked at Snape for help.
"The business in there is yours, Draco. You should see to it," Snape said and walked back into the living room with Scrimgeour.
Draco slowly stepped into the library. The door shut behind him of its own accord. The room had rows upon rows of ancient texts that led to a window on the far side. Staring out the window was a man with long, silver-blond hair and a black cloak. Draco's mouth fell open when the man turned around and for the second time that day he was rendered speechless.
"Hello, Draco. I hear you've been trying your best to make your father proud." With a flick of his wand, Lucius Malfoy caught his son in mid-air before he hit the floor.