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Professor Snape drew his breath in sharply as he ran his fingers lightly down Draco Malfoy's back. The boy shook his silver hair sadly and pulled the shirt back over his head.
Severus sat down hard in the straight-backed chair behind his desk. Sighing heavily, he ran his fingers through already tangled black hair. It was only two days after the end of the Christmas break, and the potions master had asked his favorite student to stay after class. The reason for this became apparent when Snape asked the boy if there was something wrong with his back.
Draco had denied injury adamantly, shaking his head with fervor, even though the movement of the fabric made his shoulders burn. Severus Snape had not been Malfoy's godfather for fifteen years, however, without picking up some telltale signs. A lie was easy to spot in the boy's body language, and after a little persistence on the part of the elder, the source of discomfort was made known.
Cautiously Draco pulled his forest green sweater up and away from his back. Scars. Scars marring the perfect Malfoy skin, jagged, crisscrossed, ugly scars, each one telling a separate tale of pain.
And then, on top of these old hurts lay new, fresh wounds, still red, and poorly tended to.
It was by this, that the most feared professor in the Hogwarts School had been floored. Stunned into silence by a horror that he felt as his own.
Draco stood there, silent himself, blond hair framing a face with downcast gray eyes, and a hardset mouth. Tears would have been a relief, that is, to anyone who knew how to summon them. As it was, even if this knowledge had been bestowed upon him suddenly by some unseen supernatural force, it remained doubtful if Malfoy would have allowed himself even that small bit of comfort, or, if you will, weakness.
And so, with his shields up, and emotions guarded, Draco waited.
Finally, after minutes disguised as hours, Professor Snape roused himself from his thoughts. Standing again, he tried in vain to establish eye contact with the boy. Draco's gaze was directly matching his own, but the blank eyes stared past him, past the stone walls, past time itself. No, not blank he realized, but so full of trouble that they had come full circle, past capacity.
"Why did you not come to me before this?" Snape's first words escaped his lips sounding harsher than intended.
"I did not come to you this time. I was merely obeying a request from my professor," Draco's careful monotone conveyed that he had indeed picked up on the rough inflection in Severus's voice.
Cursing himself silently, Snape softened the tone of his next words considerably, "Who-who did this to you?" he stammered, then regaining his composure, "Who hurt you?"
Malfoy turned his face away and feigned fascination over a jar of iguana scales on the cluttered desk. The room had suddenly grown smaller, and he found it a little hard to breathe. How he wished he could let all formality collapse, literally pouring his scarred soul out to run along the cracks of the stone floor. Then, then the most respected man in his life could read the horrible secrets like an open book, without the boy having to say a word.
Instead, Draco, knowing this scenario that he played through his head was a forbidden pleasure, masked his reply with sarcasm, "Your best friend," and even managed to force out a pained laugh.
"Lucius Malfoy," the young teacher was quick to catch the implications of that remark.
Draco's father and Severus Snape had been best friends throughout school, and even, Draco suspected sometimes, lovers.
Their friendship had ended, though, when Severus made the choice to leave Voldemort's inner circle of Death Eaters. The elder Malfoy had severed all connections with his former friend as the latter sought refuge from the only wizard believed to be feared by the Dark Lord, Professor Albus Dumbledore.
"Your father did this to you?" Snape struggle to keep his voice steady, "What could be his excuse for scars like these?"
The gray eyed boy shrugged, trying to keep indifference in his own voice, "I know his reason, the proverbial root of the problem, I guess you could say."
Severus leaned closer and carefully placed his hand on the shoulder of Draco's slight frame. The student was now seated while the other knelt beside him.
"It's really quite simple. I killed mother," the matter-of-factness kept the words from quivering.
Narcissa Malfoy had died shortly after the birth of her beautiful boy, due to complications during the short pregnancy and premature labor.
The professor shook his head sadly, "He tells you that?"
Draco shrugged and fixed his gaze on the chandelier overhead, "Only when he gets himself really worked up. Usually he just uses little excuses to... scar me, but that feeling is always there, that... revenge."
"What happened this time?" Snape got up and began gathering ingredients for a simple healing potion.
"Humph," there was contempt in that one sound, "it's always about school marks. That's probably his favorite excuse."
"Well, I can't imagine he can use that one to often. Your academic scores rival those of Miss Granger."
Draco laughed sardonically, "You'd be surprised Severus. I should have seen this one coming, though. I brought home an 88 in Ancient Runes. Anything below 90 might as well be a death wish. My solitary savior was the tradition of my grandparents spending part of their Christmas holidays with their only child. Not that their presence stopped Lucius from other-." Draco halted abruptly. "I-I really must go, Quidditch practice starts in ten minutes. Lucius will be disappointed if he bought all those brooms for nothing."
"Here, drink this before you go," Snape extended the fresh potion, "It'll help."
Malfoy made a face as he downed the stomach turning concoction. Professor Snape knew better than to press his godson for information, as he was thoroughly shocked at having pried this much from his lips.
Draco set the glass down and smiled awkwardly. The pair said the polite goodbyes, and Draco Severus Lucius Malfoy left, wondering if his lips had been a little too loose.
Professor Snape drew his breath in sharply as he ran his fingers lightly down Draco Malfoy's back. The boy shook his silver hair sadly and pulled the shirt back over his head.
Severus sat down hard in the straight-backed chair behind his desk. Sighing heavily, he ran his fingers through already tangled black hair. It was only two days after the end of the Christmas break, and the potions master had asked his favorite student to stay after class. The reason for this became apparent when Snape asked the boy if there was something wrong with his back.
Draco had denied injury adamantly, shaking his head with fervor, even though the movement of the fabric made his shoulders burn. Severus Snape had not been Malfoy's godfather for fifteen years, however, without picking up some telltale signs. A lie was easy to spot in the boy's body language, and after a little persistence on the part of the elder, the source of discomfort was made known.
Cautiously Draco pulled his forest green sweater up and away from his back. Scars. Scars marring the perfect Malfoy skin, jagged, crisscrossed, ugly scars, each one telling a separate tale of pain.
And then, on top of these old hurts lay new, fresh wounds, still red, and poorly tended to.
It was by this, that the most feared professor in the Hogwarts School had been floored. Stunned into silence by a horror that he felt as his own.
Draco stood there, silent himself, blond hair framing a face with downcast gray eyes, and a hardset mouth. Tears would have been a relief, that is, to anyone who knew how to summon them. As it was, even if this knowledge had been bestowed upon him suddenly by some unseen supernatural force, it remained doubtful if Malfoy would have allowed himself even that small bit of comfort, or, if you will, weakness.
And so, with his shields up, and emotions guarded, Draco waited.
Finally, after minutes disguised as hours, Professor Snape roused himself from his thoughts. Standing again, he tried in vain to establish eye contact with the boy. Draco's gaze was directly matching his own, but the blank eyes stared past him, past the stone walls, past time itself. No, not blank he realized, but so full of trouble that they had come full circle, past capacity.
"Why did you not come to me before this?" Snape's first words escaped his lips sounding harsher than intended.
"I did not come to you this time. I was merely obeying a request from my professor," Draco's careful monotone conveyed that he had indeed picked up on the rough inflection in Severus's voice.
Cursing himself silently, Snape softened the tone of his next words considerably, "Who-who did this to you?" he stammered, then regaining his composure, "Who hurt you?"
Malfoy turned his face away and feigned fascination over a jar of iguana scales on the cluttered desk. The room had suddenly grown smaller, and he found it a little hard to breathe. How he wished he could let all formality collapse, literally pouring his scarred soul out to run along the cracks of the stone floor. Then, then the most respected man in his life could read the horrible secrets like an open book, without the boy having to say a word.
Instead, Draco, knowing this scenario that he played through his head was a forbidden pleasure, masked his reply with sarcasm, "Your best friend," and even managed to force out a pained laugh.
"Lucius Malfoy," the young teacher was quick to catch the implications of that remark.
Draco's father and Severus Snape had been best friends throughout school, and even, Draco suspected sometimes, lovers.
Their friendship had ended, though, when Severus made the choice to leave Voldemort's inner circle of Death Eaters. The elder Malfoy had severed all connections with his former friend as the latter sought refuge from the only wizard believed to be feared by the Dark Lord, Professor Albus Dumbledore.
"Your father did this to you?" Snape struggle to keep his voice steady, "What could be his excuse for scars like these?"
The gray eyed boy shrugged, trying to keep indifference in his own voice, "I know his reason, the proverbial root of the problem, I guess you could say."
Severus leaned closer and carefully placed his hand on the shoulder of Draco's slight frame. The student was now seated while the other knelt beside him.
"It's really quite simple. I killed mother," the matter-of-factness kept the words from quivering.
Narcissa Malfoy had died shortly after the birth of her beautiful boy, due to complications during the short pregnancy and premature labor.
The professor shook his head sadly, "He tells you that?"
Draco shrugged and fixed his gaze on the chandelier overhead, "Only when he gets himself really worked up. Usually he just uses little excuses to... scar me, but that feeling is always there, that... revenge."
"What happened this time?" Snape got up and began gathering ingredients for a simple healing potion.
"Humph," there was contempt in that one sound, "it's always about school marks. That's probably his favorite excuse."
"Well, I can't imagine he can use that one to often. Your academic scores rival those of Miss Granger."
Draco laughed sardonically, "You'd be surprised Severus. I should have seen this one coming, though. I brought home an 88 in Ancient Runes. Anything below 90 might as well be a death wish. My solitary savior was the tradition of my grandparents spending part of their Christmas holidays with their only child. Not that their presence stopped Lucius from other-." Draco halted abruptly. "I-I really must go, Quidditch practice starts in ten minutes. Lucius will be disappointed if he bought all those brooms for nothing."
"Here, drink this before you go," Snape extended the fresh potion, "It'll help."
Malfoy made a face as he downed the stomach turning concoction. Professor Snape knew better than to press his godson for information, as he was thoroughly shocked at having pried this much from his lips.
Draco set the glass down and smiled awkwardly. The pair said the polite goodbyes, and Draco Severus Lucius Malfoy left, wondering if his lips had been a little too loose.