of what she was feeling.
Snape was frowning. "Draco, did you hear what I said?"
"Yes. What would you like me to respond with? She left without a word of farewell and now she's permanently gone. I fail to see the difference."
"There is a difference!"
"How did she die?" Hermione whispered.
Snape transferred his intense, black gaze to her. "An overdose of opium, however-"
"Have you told my father yet?" Draco interrupted.
Snape actually looked pained as he said this. "Draco, your father knows. He's known for months, but he hasn't been able to tell you."
Hermione was beyond disgusted. "Lucius Malfoy has reached new levels of low, hasn't he?"
Draco looked up. Something like hope flashed across his face. "But the money that has been deposited into my Gringotts account each month that was supposed to have come from Mo- Narcissa. How is that possible?"
Snape hesitated for a moment. "The money is from me. I' m afraid I' ve known as well. It was our plan to inform you at the right time."
"The right time being the news of her murder splashed all over the Daily Prophet!" Hermione scoffed. It was almost like she was speaking for Draco. Merlin knew she could feel his rage very clearly now. It all but obliterated the other emotions. "Rather, you decided that your only option was to tell him now before he found out on his own, in the worst possible way!"
Draco shot up to his feet, albeit a bit shakily. "Your plan?" he spat. "Yours and Lucius' you mean? You knew You both knew my mother was gone all this time and you never told me!" His voice caught. "I wrote letters to that woman for three months and all this while I assumed she was simply disinclined to write back."
"I assume full responsibility," was all Snape could or perhaps, would say, to the accusation being laid at his feet. "It was a lapse in judgement on my part, to not have told you sooner. It is imperative that you listen to me now, however. You are in danger. Both of you. You need to be exceedingly careful. The investigation has uncovered the fact that Narcissa didn't commit suicide as we had thought. She was murdered, Draco. For reasons I can only guess at, at this stage, I believe that the Death Eaters are making an example of your family. We had your best interests at heart when the decision was made not to tell you."
"Murdered?" Draco whispered hoarsely, his eyes narrowed into slits. "My mother was murdered?" The look of shock transformed into painful horror and then, there was nothing.
He shook his head and then swallowed audibly. "II'm sorry, Professor,"
Draco began, his voice dripping with ice, "but somehow I don' t think this school, or the Ministry, or my father, it would seem, has ever had my best interests at heart. I am going to demand some answers, rest assured, but they won't be from you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed."
He took a step, stumbled, and then held out his hand to Hermione. The look in his eyes was a naked plea for her to aid him before he keeled over altogether. Hermione was there in an instant.
Snape frowned deeply. He stood. "Miss Granger, I believe you will need my assistance."
The unfairness of it all made Hermione want to hit something. All the nasty, unkind things she had ever thought about Snape over the years, condensed into one, chilling look. She anchored her arm around Draco's narrow waist and together, they made their way to the door.
"Thank you, Professor, but I think I can manage."
She just about slammed the door in his face.
**
Snape stood, staring at the closed door for many minutes. Absently, he looked down at his hand and sighed when he saw that it was shaking.
He made a fist. The shaking stopped.
In the end, he was no better than Lucius. There were so many opportunities, so many previous chances to sit the boy down and tell him, but he hadn't.
Of all the many responsibilities and duties that were his, there had always been one that he had genuinely enjoyed.
Draco.
It was both a pain and a pleasure to watch the boy grow into manhood. Snape was a poor choice for a godfather. He was an old, hardened, bitter, former Death Eater; a former spy with a list of enemies as long as his right arm. But then Lucius was hardly parent-material himself. A pity that children could not dictate which