Potions office.
This time, Draco entered Snape’s office looking nothing like his usual eager self when he came to fetch potion ingredients. Now, he seemed distracted.
Snape tugged at his black robe and frowned tightly as he stared at his godson.
“With that supposedly clever mind of yours, you should already know the consequences of using Sectumsempra. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”
Glaring darkly at Draco, Snape honestly felt the urge to crack open the boy’s skull just to see what on earth he’d been thinking. How could he dare to use dark magic at Hogwarts? This wasn’t Durmstrang.
And his godson certainly wasn’t one of those reckless Gryffindors...
“...”
Draco tugged the corner of his mouth in silence.
It was just the two of them here—was that sarcastic tone really necessary?
Still, despite what he was thinking, Draco wouldn’t dare say it out loud in front of his godfather, especially not while Snape was clearly furious.
Pushing aside his thoughts, Draco looked at Snape, who was still standing stiffly.
“In that situation, Sectumsempra was the only thing I could think of.”
It was a weak excuse.
To begin with, Draco had no real reason to be there. Given his abilities, there was no way a sluggish troll could catch him. There had been no real need to risk using dark magic—he could’ve handled the situation in other, much safer ways.
Even if he couldn’t read Draco’s exact thoughts, Snape could tell he was hiding something. He gave a slight smirk.
Probably his way of mocking Draco.
“You know exactly what I mean, Draco.”
“Unless, of course, your brain is as dull as Harry Potter’s—then forget I said anything.”
Snape shifted his stance again, glaring at Draco with barely restrained anger.
That glare weighed heavily on Draco.
Just how much did his godfather hate Harry Potter?
Since when did “Harry Potter” become Snape’s go-to insult?
...
If Snape couldn’t tell Draco was hiding something, then he had no right to be his godfather.
Especially given that Snape, as a Potions Master, certainly didn’t lack logical thinking skills.
Looking back on the entire situation—place, people, events, relationships—it was as if Snape’s mind was drawing invisible lines between all the pieces.
One young wizard’s expression in particular had seemed off...
“Is it because of that Gryffindor witch?”
Snape abruptly looked at Draco, who appeared calm on the surface. Something had just occurred to him, and his expression darkened.
No—more than that, he looked agitated.
This wasn’t the usual gloomy, sneering Snape Draco was used to...
Even the most composed eleven-year-old has limits.
Especially one like Draco, who’d recently been influenced by a certain defiant little kitten. So when he heard Snape’s words, the calm expression he’d maintained cracked for a brief moment.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, godfather.”
Draco averted his gaze, eyes half-closed, feigning ignorance.
“Hmph!”
“Slytherin and Gryffindor are parallel lines—they were never meant to cross!”
“To those self-righteous Gryffindors, we Slytherins are nothing but evil! Don’t you get that?!”
Snape’s agitation clearly flared—like he wasn’t just reacting to Draco, but reliving something from his past...
Draco wasn’t naive. In fact, he was far more perceptive than most young wizards.
So of course he understood what Snape was really trying to say.
Nobility and Muggles.
Purebloods and half-bloods.
Beyond differences in status and identity, these two houses had fundamentally different values.
Even their understanding of power was worlds apart.
Honestly, if it weren’t for that encounter on the train, they’d probably just be familiar strangers now.
Maybe even enemies—and no one would’ve found that surprising.
But somehow, the two of them—who by all accounts should have had nothing in common—ended up getting along surprisingly well.
If things kept going the way they were, they might actually become real friends.
And that was exactly what Snape feared.
Yet the fact that he hadn’t stepped in to stop Draco right away... maybe that meant some part of Snape was hoping for something, too.
A regret.
A lingering remorse...
…
At that moment, with his eyes half-closed, Draco didn’t notice the complex and sorrowful look in his godfather’s eyes.
Snape quickly composed himself.
“Let’s set aside what your father might think about all this.”
“The important thing is, Slytherin... and Gryffindor can never be—”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
And truthfully, his voice had dropped so low that Draco couldn’t quite make out the last part.
But he didn’t press or ask.
After a long silence, Draco slowly opened his eyes.
Those steely gray eyes were chillingly cold.
“Yes. I think I understand, godfather.”
“...”
“Because I am Draco Malfoy of Slytherin!!”
In that moment, Snape felt as if a sleeping dragon had awakened before him...