"You see, Lucius? I will kill to protect her," Snape says evenly, then turns and heads toward his preferred Apparation point. Malfoy stands there looking at the door, a million questions making his head pound, desperately struggling to find the solution to the crisis he feels rising within him. "Severus," he follows quickly, thinking the younger wizard means to leave. "What..." Malfoy tries to choose his words carefully, "what is she to you? I just...I can't..." he glances back at the little house, then back at Snape, floundering. "Make me understand...I need to know what's going on!" Snape watches him, knowing he's terribly conflicted, not truly wanting this confrontation, but he feels Malfoy deserves to suffer a little for his transgretion.
"Is it not bad enough that you followed me, and was willing to take from me something beyond your comprehension? Now you stand here and ask of me something I'm not certain you deserve." They stare at each other for a long moment before Malfoy attempts to speak. "I knew you were leaving Hogwarts but you weren't meeting with the others...I was curious, so--" Snape takes a step forward, eyes glinting maliciously. "You were going to murder her just because she's a Muggle!" Malfoy can't meet Snape's eyes, he can't explain his actions, and he certainly can not apologize.
So he jumps feet first into the fire.
"Just tell me what this means, Severus," Malfoy says as he draws himself up as best he can under the weight of Snape's gaze. "It means nothing," Snape sneers, "to you, Lucius." For the first time this evening, anger flashes across Malfoy's features. "But it does, Severus, it does! Clearly, you're not ashamed of her, but just as clearly you're using her for something! What are you using her for, Severus?" It takes only a second, but Malfoy is ready for it when it happens. Snape lunges forward, grabs Malfoy by the front of his cloak and pulls him close. They are near enough to each other to feel the heat of their breath on their faces.
"I'm not using her!" Snape growls through clenched teeth, so furious that the air around them is close to scortching the grass. "Do you love her?" Malfoy's voice is but a whisper, though there's nothing soft in it. Snape's fists holding Malfoy's cloak begin to ache they're chenched so tightly; suddenly he releases Malfoy with a push and turns away from him. "What do you think, Lucius? What did you see in there? Or not see?" Malfoy doesn't relent. "I know what I saw. But I want to hear it, Severus. I want to hear you say it." Snape thinks Malfoy truly has no idea what he's getting himself into, but he's underestimated the older wizard in more ways than one.
"Why?" Snape growls and Malfoy counters. "Because." Snape's not expecting anything so simple. Still within punching distance, Snape rounds on Malfoy and glares back, "because why? Why must you know? What possible difference can it make to you, Lucius?" Snape can't tell if it's anger, fear or a mix of the two that's on Malfoy's face and in his voice but he realizes now that this night may be ending in a duel. And since her life depends on his, Snape knows he won't be the one to lose. "Because if you love her there is something very wrong!"
Snape suddenly has no idea what to do next. His keen mind, usually so very focused, is now running at least seven hundred miles an hour and in nearly that many directions at once; his heart hammers and he is dimly aware that his hands are flexing. He wants to throttle Malfoy...he wants to leave...he wants to be buried beneath those blankets on Elsbet's bed...he wants to be buried in her..."Then I'm wrong, Lucius, because I do. I love her more than you can imagine." Snape turns away from Malfoy and walks to a treestump nearby and sits down.
He has no idea how long he's sat before Malfoy finally approaches him. But his anger has largely ebbed with the confession; this is the first time he's told anyone that he loves her. He didn't have to tell Remus, the werewolf already knew. It had to be something of cosmic porportions for Snape to come to him for advice. And Dumbledore knew, but every conversation about her ended in an arguement. The Elder wizard appreciated deeply that Snape loved, and was certainly loved by, a Muggle, but he still insisted she was better off not involved in the Wizarding World's problems. It always hurt him; he always wanted to ask Dumbledore how he could say such a thing, he of all people who believed without reservation that nothing is more powerful than Love...well, here it is, he'd wanted to say, and it is powerful! But he held it in with tremendous effort.
He'd feel liberated by the very words if the situation wasn't what it is. He hears Malfoy behind him, and hears the question, but can't believe what he's heard. "What did you just ask me?" Snape turns slightly on the treestump but does not get up. Malfoy walks around to face him and asks the question again, his voice just as soft. "What is it like?" Snape looks at Malfoy as if he's speaking another language. "How can you even ask me that?" He doesn't know whether to be angry or disgusted, until Malfoy sits down on the treestump near him. "That's not..." Malfoy shakes his head slightly, almost apologetically, "I don't mean..." he actually whispers, "sexually," Snape shakes his head in disbelief, "I just..." Malfoy rises quickly and rubs his head.
"You know the doctrine to which we have dedicated ourselves, Severus, the Death Eaters. You know what that doctrine means and well as I. You know the rigid Supremist upbringing I had. That doctirne was passed down for centuries in virtually all the Pure-Blood families, and in mine it was absolute. In my grandfather's time, Severus, I would have been severely punished for what I've done here. Not only did I enter a Muggle's house, eat a Muggle's food and have a drink with her, but I allowed her to touch me." He sighs and looks up at the cresent moon, all the fight gone out of him.
"My whole life, Severus, I've believed that doctrine, that Muggle-borns and Muggles are filth, not fit to share this world with us. You know that I have. You know I've never questioned it." Malfoy stands with his back to Snape because he can't bear the expression he knows is playing across his features now. "It was passed down to me as I've passed it down to my son." He winces when he says it, as if the words taste like bile. "And now...and now I have to face a very bitter truth. That something here is horribly wrong, and I think...I very much think this could push me right 'round the bend. The very doctrine I've clung to my whole life tells me that I should have killed her, and you for being a Blood-Traitor, but tonight," he turns and faces Snape and meets his eyes directly, "tonight I touched a Muggle woman, and I liked it."
There is a strange silence; there are no crickets, no nightbirds or bats chittering, not even the sound of either of them breathing. "I liked it. I liked it and as soon as she let go of my hand I felt alone. I can't explain this, I can only say that this changes everything. My life, my whole existance has been a lie...the doctrine, the Supremist Ideal can't be right because she can't be filth, and you can't be wrong." Snape blinks and stares at Malfoy as if he is a complete stranger. He can't believe what he's hearing. Before he can stop himself, Snape asks, "why can't I be wrong?" Malfoy's eyes seem somehow not so icy, in fact, almost misty, and the words of his simple reply hang in the cool night air.
"Because I love you."
"Is it not bad enough that you followed me, and was willing to take from me something beyond your comprehension? Now you stand here and ask of me something I'm not certain you deserve." They stare at each other for a long moment before Malfoy attempts to speak. "I knew you were leaving Hogwarts but you weren't meeting with the others...I was curious, so--" Snape takes a step forward, eyes glinting maliciously. "You were going to murder her just because she's a Muggle!" Malfoy can't meet Snape's eyes, he can't explain his actions, and he certainly can not apologize.
So he jumps feet first into the fire.
"Just tell me what this means, Severus," Malfoy says as he draws himself up as best he can under the weight of Snape's gaze. "It means nothing," Snape sneers, "to you, Lucius." For the first time this evening, anger flashes across Malfoy's features. "But it does, Severus, it does! Clearly, you're not ashamed of her, but just as clearly you're using her for something! What are you using her for, Severus?" It takes only a second, but Malfoy is ready for it when it happens. Snape lunges forward, grabs Malfoy by the front of his cloak and pulls him close. They are near enough to each other to feel the heat of their breath on their faces.
"I'm not using her!" Snape growls through clenched teeth, so furious that the air around them is close to scortching the grass. "Do you love her?" Malfoy's voice is but a whisper, though there's nothing soft in it. Snape's fists holding Malfoy's cloak begin to ache they're chenched so tightly; suddenly he releases Malfoy with a push and turns away from him. "What do you think, Lucius? What did you see in there? Or not see?" Malfoy doesn't relent. "I know what I saw. But I want to hear it, Severus. I want to hear you say it." Snape thinks Malfoy truly has no idea what he's getting himself into, but he's underestimated the older wizard in more ways than one.
"Why?" Snape growls and Malfoy counters. "Because." Snape's not expecting anything so simple. Still within punching distance, Snape rounds on Malfoy and glares back, "because why? Why must you know? What possible difference can it make to you, Lucius?" Snape can't tell if it's anger, fear or a mix of the two that's on Malfoy's face and in his voice but he realizes now that this night may be ending in a duel. And since her life depends on his, Snape knows he won't be the one to lose. "Because if you love her there is something very wrong!"
Snape suddenly has no idea what to do next. His keen mind, usually so very focused, is now running at least seven hundred miles an hour and in nearly that many directions at once; his heart hammers and he is dimly aware that his hands are flexing. He wants to throttle Malfoy...he wants to leave...he wants to be buried beneath those blankets on Elsbet's bed...he wants to be buried in her..."Then I'm wrong, Lucius, because I do. I love her more than you can imagine." Snape turns away from Malfoy and walks to a treestump nearby and sits down.
He has no idea how long he's sat before Malfoy finally approaches him. But his anger has largely ebbed with the confession; this is the first time he's told anyone that he loves her. He didn't have to tell Remus, the werewolf already knew. It had to be something of cosmic porportions for Snape to come to him for advice. And Dumbledore knew, but every conversation about her ended in an arguement. The Elder wizard appreciated deeply that Snape loved, and was certainly loved by, a Muggle, but he still insisted she was better off not involved in the Wizarding World's problems. It always hurt him; he always wanted to ask Dumbledore how he could say such a thing, he of all people who believed without reservation that nothing is more powerful than Love...well, here it is, he'd wanted to say, and it is powerful! But he held it in with tremendous effort.
He'd feel liberated by the very words if the situation wasn't what it is. He hears Malfoy behind him, and hears the question, but can't believe what he's heard. "What did you just ask me?" Snape turns slightly on the treestump but does not get up. Malfoy walks around to face him and asks the question again, his voice just as soft. "What is it like?" Snape looks at Malfoy as if he's speaking another language. "How can you even ask me that?" He doesn't know whether to be angry or disgusted, until Malfoy sits down on the treestump near him. "That's not..." Malfoy shakes his head slightly, almost apologetically, "I don't mean..." he actually whispers, "sexually," Snape shakes his head in disbelief, "I just..." Malfoy rises quickly and rubs his head.
"You know the doctrine to which we have dedicated ourselves, Severus, the Death Eaters. You know what that doctrine means and well as I. You know the rigid Supremist upbringing I had. That doctirne was passed down for centuries in virtually all the Pure-Blood families, and in mine it was absolute. In my grandfather's time, Severus, I would have been severely punished for what I've done here. Not only did I enter a Muggle's house, eat a Muggle's food and have a drink with her, but I allowed her to touch me." He sighs and looks up at the cresent moon, all the fight gone out of him.
"My whole life, Severus, I've believed that doctrine, that Muggle-borns and Muggles are filth, not fit to share this world with us. You know that I have. You know I've never questioned it." Malfoy stands with his back to Snape because he can't bear the expression he knows is playing across his features now. "It was passed down to me as I've passed it down to my son." He winces when he says it, as if the words taste like bile. "And now...and now I have to face a very bitter truth. That something here is horribly wrong, and I think...I very much think this could push me right 'round the bend. The very doctrine I've clung to my whole life tells me that I should have killed her, and you for being a Blood-Traitor, but tonight," he turns and faces Snape and meets his eyes directly, "tonight I touched a Muggle woman, and I liked it."
There is a strange silence; there are no crickets, no nightbirds or bats chittering, not even the sound of either of them breathing. "I liked it. I liked it and as soon as she let go of my hand I felt alone. I can't explain this, I can only say that this changes everything. My life, my whole existance has been a lie...the doctrine, the Supremist Ideal can't be right because she can't be filth, and you can't be wrong." Snape blinks and stares at Malfoy as if he is a complete stranger. He can't believe what he's hearing. Before he can stop himself, Snape asks, "why can't I be wrong?" Malfoy's eyes seem somehow not so icy, in fact, almost misty, and the words of his simple reply hang in the cool night air.
"Because I love you."