Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline contained in this story. I will make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. It is solely for entertainment value.

Thank you, Mithralandtj, casanle, and Makaem! You keep the muses breathing!

Makaem, not much room for a naked Snape story wise, but you'll find a virtual one tied up on your virtual bed, the next time you want him. ::smirk:: Do you like Remus/Snape? If so, I can make that my next story, when I get that one far enough along to start posting it...?

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Chapter One
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Draco shifted restlessly as he waited just outside the eastern entrance to the castle. The door Potter had chosen to meet outside was small, and usually went unnoticed. Usually, only those students adventurous enough to do some rather extensive exploring ever found it. It really didn't surprise him that Potter knew about it. Of all the things the Gryffindor was known for, being a shut in was definitely not one of them. Draco knew about it courtesy of his father, who, apparently, had been quite the intrepid explorer in his day. He smirked to himself. It was either that, or his father had told him about it. Frankly, Draco thought that was far more likely of the two ideas. He was just glad he did know about it. If he hadn't, it would have been a pain to let Potter know he had absolutely no clue where the hell the prat wanted to meet.

Nearly growling with impatience, Draco paced quickly across the small alcove and leaned up against the wall, giving himself a good view of the door. He wanted to know the moment they arrived. That was, of course, assuming that bloody Potter wasn't already here, hidden under that invisibility cloak of his, making him wait. He was going to be very irritated if that was the case. He'd been here for ten minutes already, waiting, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, exactly as if he were being watched. If Potter was just being purposely obnoxious. . . .

It had taken him over a month's work to get everything he needed together and brew the potion. It wasn't the easiest one he'd ever brewed. In fact, it had been damn difficult. He'd almost messed three separate times, and only quick thinking and his knowledge of potions ingredients that had saved the brew. He was invested in this - not that the curse would allow for anything else. No, he thought suddenly, it would have, I just would not have been very happy about it. He really didn't think it wasn't anything he couldn't ignore if he really wanted to, but given his two choices, Potter truly seemed the better choice at this point. He shook himself, a little unsettled at his thoughts. He certainly wouldn't have thought that before the train ride to school - despite not wanting to have anything to do with the dark lord. Of course, he hadn't really tried very hard, either. The knowledge that Potter's raw power was greater than that of the dark lord - not to mention the potential political and social power Potter should one day wield - had made his actions seem very clear cut, obvious even, and he'd followed through on that. He was a Slytherin after all, and this was definitely in his best interests - curse bedamned. It had merely allowed him to see that fact.

The door cracked open jerking Draco from his thoughts, and he slowly moved back into the shadows of the corner, in case it was Filch, or any of the professors. He couldn't afford to get caught by any of them . . . for varying reasons. For the first time ever, he was actually more worried it would be Professor Snape than any of the others. He loved his godfather, and believed the man cared about him in return, but Draco couldn't take the chance that said caring would be far outweighed by his responsibilities to the dark lord. He was a deatheater, after all. Just like my father, Draco thought, shuddering. He hoped his father would still be speaking with him when this was all said and done, but knew there was a very real chance that the man wouldn't ever want to see him again, let alone speak with him.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the door shut and he could make out Potter's shape in the moonlight. Taking a deep calming breath, he took a single step forward into the moonlight. "I'm surprised to see you here alone," he said by way of greeting.

Potter snorted, turning to face him. "Who said I am?" he asked, smirking.

Draco nodded wryly. One or both of the others could be here, he supposed, hidden under the cloak he'd thought Potter might come under. They could have come in with Potter and he would never be the wiser. For that matter, they could also have been here from the beginning.

"You wanted to talk?" Potter challenged. "I'm here; so talk."

Draco nodded, having figured already that Potter wouldn't be interested in Slytherin word games. Unfortunately, the words he'd practiced over and over suddenly left him. It figures, he snorted. "I know you've got no reason to believe me, past experience and all, but I don't want anything to do with 'you know who'," he began.

Oh, great beginning, you pillock!

Potter laughed. "You're right, I don't have a good reason to believe that," he sneered, folding his arms firmly across his chest. "Why wouldn't you follow in dear old Daddy's footsteps?"

"I met him this last summer," Draco replied bluntly.

"That'd be enough for me," Potter admitted, eyes a little widened.

"Listen," Draco said intently, hearing the unspoken, 'but I doubt it's enough for you', "he's insane, obsessed even. And that's one of the reasons you're going to beat him."

"So," Potter said, scoffing, "this is about 'being on the winning side'?"

"I will admit," Draco began slowly, knowing Potter wouldn't believe anything else at this point, "that is a part of it, but it's not all of it."

Potter frowned, and for the first time since he stepped through the door began to look slightly less . . . decisive.

"I can help you, Potter," Draco said, leaning forward, realizing this was his moment to be convincing. "I may not be good at the same things you are, but there are things I'm far better at, and we both know it. And that's a good thing." Draco spoke intently, knowing he was right. He had value to Potter, and it suddenly dawned on him exactly what that value was. In fact, his body was fairly singing with it. He would be a key, some kind of catalyst. He didn't know for what, precisely, just that it was what he could do best for Potter's side. It's what Potter needed from him. It was a heady sensation, the feeling coursing through him. And though, he knew it stemmed from the curse, it still felt incredible. He had a purpose, one that didn't turn his stomach, or make him want to hide under his covers and never crawl out.

Potter huffed and shook his head. "I don't doubt that, Malfoy, not if you're legitimate. What I doubt is your sincerity."

Wanting to stomp his foot in frustration, despite the fact that he'd known all along it would come to this, Draco sighed and reached into his cloak pocket. Potter stiffened and Draco rolled his eyes. "After more than five years, you still don't know where I keep my wand?" he asked drily.

"Doesn't mean you couldn't have moved it," Potter retorted, but Draco could see in his defensive reaction that he hadn't even thought of that.

He shrugged anyway. It was still time to make nice. "Point," he replied, pulling out the small vial he'd brought with him and holding it up for Potter to see.

This time Potter's eyes widened far more noticeably. "Is that what I think it is?"

"If you think it's veriteserum, then, yes, it is."

Potter's wide eyes narrowed suddenly, and Draco nearly gave in to the urge to roll his eyes again.

"And before you say it, I'm sure Granger knows how to test its authenticity."

"I do," Granger said suddenly, stepping forward and disrupting her dissallusionment charm.

Draco contained his jump of startlement for the most part, berating himself silently for having been startled at all, since he knew damn well at least one of the trio was hidden away. Now he suspected two of them had been, because, somehow, he doubted Weaselbee was not there. Draco couldn't see the jealous prat, letting these two do this without him.

"The problem with veriteserum, is the fact that you have to ask the right questions. The person dosed with it will answer questions quite literally, often times completely bypassing the actual intent of the question."

Draco nearly smirked. Here was a good chance to get in good with the mudblood witch. "I'm sure you can figure out questions without loopholes." He even managed to say it without a hint of a sneer, something he was rather proud of.

The bint narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but didn't retort.

"Can you test it, Hermione?"

"Only one way to do it right here, Harry, since I don't normally carry spare potions ingredients, nor the other items necessary for testing, around with me," Granger replied drily.

"How's that?"

"Have one of us take some and see if we have trouble lying," Granger replied, her tone grating and superior.

It was all Draco could do not to lash out at the bloody bint. He was just glad the statement - and the tone - hadn't been directed at him, or he wouldn't have been able to. Of course, the fact that Potter's question had been rather stupid was a point - a very small one - in her favor.

Potter reached out and Draco handed him the tiny bottle. He still couldn't believe he was willing to go this far! They could ask him anything once he was dosed, and he wouldn't be able to do anything except answer them honestly. It was a recipe ripe for humiliation. He just hoped that along with whatever humiliating thing they came up with to ask, they also asked the questions that would make it all worth it. The curse, according to his father, was not going to give him a choice in this matter, and it would be more than simply humiliating to continue helping Potter, trying to gain his trust, like some kind of sick lapdog, who'd keep coming back even after getting kicked. This was bad enough.

That thought stopped him rather cold for a moment as he suddenly wondered whether his father occasionally felt that way, what with the way the dark lord seemed to treat his followers. If the night he'd attended a meeting was a reliable indicator, the death eaters got 'kicked' rather a lot. It was a disturbing realization. He had always seen his father as a strong and powerful man, not someone's whipped dog.

"One drop should be enough to test it, Harry," Granger informed Potter. "Three drops, a full dose of correctly brewed veriteserum, will have anyone spilling their darkest secrets, if the right questions are asked. One drop, will simply make lying very difficult."

Just as Potter was about to dose the chit, Weaselbee jumped forward, shedding the cloak that Draco wanted to own so badly his eyeteeth ached, as he moved. "What if Malfoy's poisoned it?" he protested loudly.

Before Draco could fully form a valid protest, one that might actually make a difference to the Gryffindors, Granger had already rounded on the red-headed idiot.

"Malfoy is not stupid, Ronald; no matter your feelings about him. Only bad things would happen for him if he poisoned the potion. One: we wouldn't test it this way and just give it to him. Two: he succeeded in poisoning one of us, and the other two inform the headmaster, getting him - at minimum - expelled, if not sent to Azkaban."

Surprised though he was that Granger was actually acknowledging his intelligence, he was far more surprised that the blunt, book-obsessed Gryffindor had reasoned out a very sound set of reasons he wouldn't poison it - even if trouble had been his intention.

Weaselbee wanted to continue protest, that was plain to see; unfortunately for him, he couldn't think of a thing to say.

"I still don't trust him," the weasel snapped sullenly.

Okay, so he couldn't think of anything good to say.

"Your protest is noted, Ron," Potter said as he let a single drop fall into Granger's mouth. "Anyway, it's not like we're trusting him out of hand, here."

Draco wanted to snarl at both of Potter's friends. With their help he was never going to get anywhere! He backed up and leaned against the wall as Potter questioned Granger - not overly eager to hear any of her secrets, them being too tempting to exploit - and impatiently waited until the three - well, two - of them were satisfied. He doubted Weaselbee would be satisfied with anything about this going Draco's way, ever.

"Alright, Malfoy," Potter said, raising his voice slightly, and Draco stepped forward, ready to get this part over with. Opening his mouth as Potter lifted the dropper top to the veriteserum bottle, he tensed, waiting for the drops to hit his tongue. He had yet to take a potion that tasted remotely good, and he wasn't looking forward to discovering what this one tasted like. Invariably the more powerful the potion, the worse it tasted. He shuddered as the drops hit his tongue, then cringed as he suddenly remembered that veriteserum was tasteless. Stupid bloody mistake, he thought to himself, knowing full well a mistake like that on one of Professor Snape's tests would have got him soundly lectured in that 'I'm so disappointed in you' tone of voice. Draco loathed that tone.

It didn't take long before a sense of wellbeing flowed over him, making him feel as if he didn't have a care in the world, everything outside himself faded to a rather inconsequential haze.

"So what should I ask him first?" Potter whispered fiercely.

"I don't know," Draco replied, despite a part of him, deep inside, realizing that Potter hadn't actually been talking to him. He simply couldn't not answer.

Weaselbee snickered.

"Something you're pretty sure he'd lie about, Harry," Granger told Potter quietly, shrugging.

Draco watched impassively, waiting for the next question he could answer.

"Malfoy, when you first approached me on the train, did you really want to be my friend?"

"Yes," Draco replied immediately.

"Why?"

"Because I'd grown up hearing about you almost constantly. I wanted to be friends with someone who was that important in my father's world, someone he wouldn't be able to intimidate and control."

Potter frowned. "So you wanted to be my friend just to spite your father?"

"No, not just to spite my father. That would have simply been a bonus."

Potter laughed then, and the part deep inside that still kept track of such things, briefly wondered if that was a good or bad sign before it was once again silenced by the potion's effect.

Potter turned to face Granger. "I think it's safe to say that he's under. I really don't think he'd have admitted that any other way. Do you really want to side with me against the dark lord?" he asked, turning his attention away from Granger.

"Yes."

"Why?" the weasel demanded angrily.

"You shouldn't ask such open ended questions, Ron!" Granger admonished the weasel even as Draco began to answer.

"Because Potter is more powerful. Because the dark lord is insane. Because I believe Potter is going to win. Because-"

"Good enough, Malfoy," Potter interrupted, and the urge to continue subsided quickly, for which Draco's peace of mind was grateful. He'd been heading into territory that the tiny little sane voice inside him was beginning to scream about.

"I assume that it is safe to say there are many reasons?" Potter asked then.

"Yes," Draco replied; a nice, safe answer.

"Will any of those reasons harm me?"

Draco blinked, his mouth opening and answering before he had time to truly think through the answer. "I don't think so."

The little voice was once again screaming in protest, and Draco wondered if the veriteserum was near to wearing off, if maybe they wouldn't ask the wrong - or right, depending on point of view - question in time.

Granger stepped closer then and Draco's sense of peace was briefly ruffled.

"Aside from the factors you've already fully mentioned, how many factors went into your decision to join Harry as an ally?"

"Three," he answer immediately, and had to stop and think of what they were, not having realized that there were that many left.

"Are any of those three significant enough that it would better that we know about them, regardless of whether or not it would be wiser for you to tell us about them?"

"Yes." NO!

"What is the significant factor that would be better for us to know?"

Damn it!

"The Malfoy family curse."

"What?" Potter and the weasel exclaimed in unison.

"Forget that question, Malfoy."

Draco did, relaxing a little.

"What is the Malfoy family curse you just mentioned, exactly, and how did it come about?" Granger asked.

Draco slumped, but immediately began replying, spelling out - in detail - the curse he had so recently learned about. He was most of the way through the tale when he heard Granger speak again.

"We've got a minute, maybe two, before the potion's effects begins to fade."

He kept speaking as Potter nodded.

"Good enough. Does that curse mean that if you ran across someone more powerful than me, that you would turn your attention to them?"

"I don't know."

"Did you feel drawn to Voldemort?" Granger asked.

"Yes," Draco replied. "Against my better judgement," he added willingly.

"And now you wish to align yourself with Harry?"

"Yes."

Potter frowned. "So what would be different about this situation that you wouldn't know whether you would switch again?"

"I had no agreement with the dark lord before coming back to school," Draco answered. "I do not know how, or whether, an active agreement would affect the curse."

"Any answers past this point, Harry, may not be reliably affected by the potion."

Potter nodded, not turning his attention away from him. "So what might prevent the curse making you change your mind later on?"

"I don't know."

"An oath of fealty," the weasel blurted out.

The haze, as well as his sense of peace, was slowly lifting, and Draco nearly groaned, the full import of the information they'd got out of him hitting him hard. His father had warned him of the importance of no one knowing about the curse. It was far too easy to use it to manipulate them. His father was going to kill him! Then the import of what the weasel had exclaimed sunk in as well. That just might work! he thought in wonder; though, he was a bit loathe to swear any kind of oath to anyone, or admit that Weaselbee just might have actually had a good idea.

The plus side to the thing, of course, was that an oath of fealty was more than a one way magic. For the fealty that the 'lord' received from the 'vassal', the lord was required to provide a certain level of succor, as well as protection, to said 'vassal'. The main drawback had yet to be mentioned, but it was a big one. He wouldn't be able to disobey any of Potter's intentional commands - not like he was a slave or anything, but still.

The full effects didn't wear off as quickly as they took effect, but eventually they did, and Draco took a deep breath, relishing his returned ability to think before responding. It was certainly an experience he was glad he'd had - especially since they, very surprisingly, hadn't taken the chance to humiliate him deeply; though, the initial three questions really were ones he'd rather have kept to himself - but wasn't one he wanted to repeat any time soon.

"Worn off yet?" Potter asked, eyeing him closely.

Draco smirked, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "No," he replied, the lie blatant in his nearly mischievous tone.

"He's obviously lying!" the weasel shouted angrily.

Duh! Draco thought instantly, rolling his eyes - as did Granger, he noted.

"Yes, Ron," she agreed with him, "and if he wanted us to actually believe otherwise, he wouldn't have been so very obvious about it, now would he?"

Weaselbee blinked in surprise, then looked incredibly sheepish. "Oh, yeah. I didn't think of that."

Obviously, Draco thought sourly, but he didn't give voice to it. Things might not have been messed up completely yet, despite the revelation of the curse, and he didn't want to take the chance that mouthing off at the bloody weasel would be the thing that did it.

"So would the oath thing work?" Potter asked him.

"It may not stop the curse from making me change my mind," he replied evenly, "but if I actually did anything about it, thereby betraying the oath, the magic of it would kill me."

"I don't want him to end up dead!" Potter exclaimed, turning a horrified look to his two friends.

"Then, he should be very careful not to betray the oath," Granger pointed out.

"But what if the curse forces him to?"

"The curse has yet to force me into anything," Draco replied instead of Granger - she wouldn't know the answer after all. "It has made it feel the most natural thing in the world to do, that it's the right decision for me - even if I don't necessarily like it - but it hasn't forced anything. Somehow, I don't think doing something that would definitely get me killed would ever feel like the 'right' decision."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when something of an epiphany hit Draco with all the subtlety of a bludger and the trio's conversation faded to the background - though he still managed to keep some of his attention on it and them. His father's words came rolling back. 'The curse changes you, Draco.' He frowned, suddenly wondering how much of that statement had actually been literal truth and how much had simply been his father's excuse for the things he'd done, things he didn't want to have done? Were those words, that belief, simply his way of dealing with what he'd become, all in the name of an insane dark lord?

"He's got a point, Harry."

Potter frowned, lowering his gaze to apparently stare at his hands. He remained that way for several minutes, while the three of them waited impatiently - Draco with his breath virtually held. The curse was going to drive him nutters, he knew, if Potter didn't accept him. He shuddered minutely, hoping that reality would prove his thought to be completely metaphorical.

Finally Potter's head snapped up. "Okay, Malfoy," he began, "think about what an oath of fealty would mean for you, and if you still want to do this. We'll do it here, tomorrow night - same time."

"And not coincidently," Draco drawled, an almost smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "give you time to figure out what it means as well." At least Potter seemed to be thinking things through these days. That boded well for the future.

Potter snorted, a hint of an actual smile ghosting across his expression. "Something like that," he agreed.

Draco stood and nodded to each of them as if taking his leave of pureblood aristocrats at some social function, then strode toward and through the eastern door. Once on the other side, the door shut behind him, he let out a heavy sigh of relief. Feeling slightly giddy, knowing that he'd stepped across some indefinable line of no return, he wondered what the end consequences would be. After all, his decision was already made. Even without the curse, he only really had two choices, because Dumbledore wasn't even on the map as far as someone he'd be willing to ally with - at least not directly. Of course, attaching himself to Potter did mean he was allied to the older wizard peripherally, but that was acceptable in exchange for the benefits - namely, staying out from under the dark lord's control.

Sighing once again, shaking his head against the odd twist his life had taken, Draco stood straight, and headed for the dorm. It was past time to get some sleep.

Unfortunately, by the time he reached his dorm and was physically ready for bed, his mind was whirling with thoughts, some productive, some not. A large part of him worried that once Potter figured out exactly how two way an oath of fealty was, the prat would back out, leaving Draco high and dry. Another part of him worried that Potter would take him up on the oath. This type of oath was forever. Did he really want to tie himself to Potter for the rest of his life?

Draco shook his head, his contradictory thoughts making less than no sense to him. Either he wanted to do this, or he didn't; wanting it both ways was ridiculous - not to mention so very . . . Hufflepuff. Frowning, he decided a trip to the library was in order for after classes tomorrow - or rather, later today. He couldn't remember all the fine details of the oath, and wanted to make sure it wouldn't turn around to bite him in the arse later on. After all, he'd only skimmed the oath in passing - and that had been back when he'd been a kid. He didn't really remember a lot about it.

That settled, his thoughts invariably circled back to his father, and the man's probable reaction to it all, something Draco dreaded. Lucius Malfoy would not be happy to discover his son was siding with the enemy of the man he had sided with. Jaw tightening, mouth settling into a firm, thin line, resolve filled Draco. Dreading the reaction or not, Draco knew he had to arrange for the two of them to run into each other before his father found out what he was doing - had done. That alone would mitigate most, if not all, of his father's rage. It had to. The man had been living with the reality of the curse far longer than Draco had. Surely, the man would understand. It would also tell him whether or not the oath was needed. Of course, by the time he discovered the answer to that, it would already be too late. He just hoped, assuming he actually took the damn thing, that it wasn't an unnecessary step.

Closing his eyes, determined to simply shut off his thoughts so he could actually get some sort of sleep tonight, a terrifying thought slammed into him. Had his father sworn any kind of oath to the dark lord? Biting his lip, Draco desperately searched his memory for any clues. His rapidly beating heart eventually slowed as he realized there didn't appear to be any evidence to support a fealty oath at least. The dark lord certainly hadn't acted like it at the meeting, at any rate. Of course, there were numerous oaths he could have taken, ones far more 'one way', but he really couldn't see his father actually taking any of the ones Draco had heard about, not willingly at any rate. Most of them were little more than spells of willing slavery.

He wished there was someone he could ask, somehow he could ask, without giving himself away completely, all the while knowing there wasn't. He couldn't even ask his father, not without giving far too much away - not that he could get an answer back in time anyway. He was truly on his own here. This was a decision he would have to make without any input from those he had always trusted to guide him. It was terrifying, as well as incredibly liberating.

With that last thought ringing through his mind, sleep finally claimed him, bringing with it temporary oblivion to all his troubles.

TBC
Kiristeen ke Alaya
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review.

AN: No, I'm not trying to say that Ron is stupid in this chapter. I'm simply portraying how his very real hatred of all things Malfoy interferes with his reasoning abilities. : ) No Character bashing in these stories - at least I don't think so. None of the characters will remain 100% JKR's characters, but hopefully, their changes are realistic in the circumstances I've chosen for them.