Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and all these other people are characters belonging to J.K. Rowling. I claim no rights to them, their surroundings, or their situations. Much to my sorrow.

--- 11 Draco: When All Men Doubt You

In no hurry, as he had no idea where he was going, Draco eventually found himself away from the gathering in the ball room, wandering a far-flung, dusty hallway alone. This suited him quite well. His only regret was that he hadn't thought to pull on a shirt before he headed out, but it wasn't worth turning around to get one; he hugged himself to keep warm and meandered on, lost in thought.

So Professor Snape was out of the picture, at least for the time being. The thought was inordinately depressing. The more so since, contrary to Potter's advice, Draco was in no position to drop everything and rush to the man's side. Snape's absence put him in a serious dilemma, one that was going to require his full attention.

Only a handful of students now remained to represent his once-proud House. And he, Draco, was now the most senior Slytherin present in this motley band. At one time he might have found that idea exciting; now it just filled him with trepidation. What was that Muggle saying about the blind leading the blind? If they conceded to follow at all...

But the real problem was the other Houses. A shiver which had nothing to do with the ambient chill ran through him. He knew well enough what he and his Housemates would have done in the days when Slytherin was strong, if any of the other three had fallen into such a vulnerable state. He supposed he was about to find out whether his House was as unique in its moral deficiencies as the common wisdom held.

Personally--though he would be happy to be proven wrong, in this instance--he wouldn't bet a single Galleon that Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would hesitate to eliminate a long-standing thorn in their sides now that they had the opportunity.

No one would have to dirty their hands, even. All that would be needed was a few key figures to speak out in support of a re-Sorting, and the remaining Slytherins would be absorbed into the other three Houses, as neat and tidy as you please. Any who refused--or who were rejected by their new Housemates--would probably be asked to leave. And go where? 'Sorry, not our problem, but I hear the Dark Lord is always hiring...of course then we'd be obliged to kill you next time we see you, if he doesn't.'

Draco sat down and put his head in his hands. This was the moment of truth he'd been dreading. If he really wanted to make a go of this, it wasn't enough just to be here, be civil, and follow Dumbledore's orders. He was going to have to make some friends, and do it fast.

"Lovely," he said aloud to the empty air. "And then I'll just nip over to the Death Eaters' lair, clean the place out single-handedly, and bring peace and harmony to the world at large while I'm at it, shall I?"

Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes and pictured Professor Snape--his mentor, whom he thought of almost as a crotchety old uncle at times--helpless in hospital, alone but for one jumped-up little Gryffindor know-it-all; and at the mercy of strangers, a situation any Slytherin would deplore. Perhaps in terrible pain, perhaps even dying--no, best not to harbor such thoughts.

Depending on him, whether he knew it or not.

"I'll do my best, Professor," he promised. "But you'd better recuperate right quick and get back here, or you might not have a House to come back to."

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