Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Philophobia- Fear of falling in love or being in love.
Summary: Draco is abused mentally, physically, and sexually by Lucius. On his seventh year at Hogwarts, he decides not to go back home for the holidays as planned. Chaos ensues. Severus/Draco slash. Graphic stuff. Don't like, don't read.
Chapter I
November always seemed to be a forgotten month. Just before Christmas, and just after Halloween. At Hogwarts, little was done in November except perhaps extra assignments given out, although the weather was rather nice. For the first few days in this neglected month, it was cold enough to wear a nice wool scarf out on the grounds and enjoy the crisp breeze as it gently caressed one's face. The grounds seemed to glisten in the morning with fresh wintry dew, and the scenery was so serene. Of course, this was before snow blanketed the green grass, and the lake received a sheet of ice. Nevertheless, November was special in it's own way. To Draco.
Six forty three in the morning on a Thursday was the most frustrating thing at the moment. Waking up from such a warm, comfortable environment in which there wasn't a care in the world, to feel the frigid air of a winter morning with knowledge of a fully scheduled Hogwarts day ahead was enough to make one want to fake ill. The blonde shifted from side to side, which resulted in just getting twisted up in his sheets. Nice going, Draco. Frustrated beyond reason, he jumped off the bed and dragged himself to the bathroom.
The cold floor tiles were a nice wakeup to the Slytherin's bare feet, as he flipped on the light. Another day of learning, and dealing with that damn Harry Potter. And his stupid little sidekick friends. That was slightly hypocritical of him, however, since Crab and Goyle still hung out around him. He really didn't like their presence because, to be frank, they made him look stupid. Yet they still followed him around as though they were dogs. How disgusting.
Twisting the knob for warm water, the blonde started to slip off his clothes. Basically, they just consisted of silk pajamas and cotton boxers. Nimble yet tired fingers gave special attention to each button on his shirt as he slipped it off of his milky shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Steam was already fogging up the mirrors in the room, but the warm stuffiness felt rather refreshing, as did the water. Blonde hair turned a glistening honey colour as they dampened, and Draco let out a small contented sigh.
Of course, the rest of his day wasn't as pleasurable as his morning shower. At all. Breakfast was oatmeal, and Draco hated oatmeal. It showed such a lack of effort in some way. History of Magic should never be the first class of the day, reason being the extreme amount of boredom makes the day seem longer. At least in Potions he was able to ridicule Weasley.
Ah, Potions. The highlight of his day.
Not only was the young Malfoy good at the class in question, he was a teachers pet. Yes, Draco was a much loved student to the intimidating Professor Severus Snape himself. The potions professor seemed to love Draco. Well, as far as intimidating potions professors go anyway. And although Draco was slightly nervous around his Head of House (to which he would never admit to), he respected him and admired the older man. Yes, seeing Snape brightened his day.
The final bell rang, and Draco couldn't have been more relieved. He stood from his desk, as did everyone else, and shoved his notes into his satchel. Rather uncoordinatedly. Of course, at the moment he could care less about how neat and organized his bag was. More thoughts were on his mind in that short time between packing up and the actual dungeon doorway. Winter was here, and he couldn't avoid it. He would have to go home once more for the Holidays, and face hell on earth. Ever since Potter had sent his father to Azkaban two years ago, his father had been beyond harsh. Yes, of course he escaped; Malfoys always have a way of escaping things.
How?
Everyone is entitled to a trial, Lucius having been no exception. He simply told the Ministry that he had been under the Imperius, slipped a few galleons under the table. That was really all it took, that with the confidence the senior Malfoy always had with him. During the whole trial he never broke a sweat, which made Draco nervous beyond reason.
And so Lucius was back in the Manor, and very disappointed. Which basically meant he would take his anger out on Draco. Great. At least Narcissa was smart enough to have left after the trial.
Draco had always been close to his mother, and to see her leave drove the boy to near insanity. With his mother being just about the only person who cared for him, he felt eternally lonely now. He remembered how Narcissa would comfort him while he lay in bed after Lucius had beaten him. Despite his wounds, those moments had made him feel comfortable.
The blonde found himself not moving in the empty classroom as he came back to reality. He had been standing there alone with his hands resting on his bag, and perhaps a few minutes after the bell had passed. To add on to his surprise, he wasn't exactly alone. A second shadow was on his desk next to him, a much taller one. This alone was enough to give the boy a heart attack, but he kept his composure and turned around.
"Sorry Professor, I was just leaving."
However, as Draco cast his eyes up at the professor, he was surprised to see he wasn't angry. In fact, he seemed curious. Not many had ever seen Severus Snape curious, but Draco was supposedly blessed enough to witness it. He pulled his satchel on his shoulder automatically and moved away awkwardly. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising slightly in embarrassment. However, just as he was leaving a pale hand rested on his shoulder.
"Mr. Malfoy."
Severus paused until Draco's eyes met his, and continued.
"I'm here if you need someone to talk to."
Draco found himself staring at his professor questioningly, but simply nodded meekly in response. He couldn't say that he wasn't surprised to see an emotion so similar to compassion in the daunting professor.but he was grateful all the same.
"Thank you, Professor," he added, his voice uncharacteristically quiet as he moved to the door and took his leave.
Philophobia- Fear of falling in love or being in love.
Summary: Draco is abused mentally, physically, and sexually by Lucius. On his seventh year at Hogwarts, he decides not to go back home for the holidays as planned. Chaos ensues. Severus/Draco slash. Graphic stuff. Don't like, don't read.
Chapter I
November always seemed to be a forgotten month. Just before Christmas, and just after Halloween. At Hogwarts, little was done in November except perhaps extra assignments given out, although the weather was rather nice. For the first few days in this neglected month, it was cold enough to wear a nice wool scarf out on the grounds and enjoy the crisp breeze as it gently caressed one's face. The grounds seemed to glisten in the morning with fresh wintry dew, and the scenery was so serene. Of course, this was before snow blanketed the green grass, and the lake received a sheet of ice. Nevertheless, November was special in it's own way. To Draco.
Six forty three in the morning on a Thursday was the most frustrating thing at the moment. Waking up from such a warm, comfortable environment in which there wasn't a care in the world, to feel the frigid air of a winter morning with knowledge of a fully scheduled Hogwarts day ahead was enough to make one want to fake ill. The blonde shifted from side to side, which resulted in just getting twisted up in his sheets. Nice going, Draco. Frustrated beyond reason, he jumped off the bed and dragged himself to the bathroom.
The cold floor tiles were a nice wakeup to the Slytherin's bare feet, as he flipped on the light. Another day of learning, and dealing with that damn Harry Potter. And his stupid little sidekick friends. That was slightly hypocritical of him, however, since Crab and Goyle still hung out around him. He really didn't like their presence because, to be frank, they made him look stupid. Yet they still followed him around as though they were dogs. How disgusting.
Twisting the knob for warm water, the blonde started to slip off his clothes. Basically, they just consisted of silk pajamas and cotton boxers. Nimble yet tired fingers gave special attention to each button on his shirt as he slipped it off of his milky shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Steam was already fogging up the mirrors in the room, but the warm stuffiness felt rather refreshing, as did the water. Blonde hair turned a glistening honey colour as they dampened, and Draco let out a small contented sigh.
Of course, the rest of his day wasn't as pleasurable as his morning shower. At all. Breakfast was oatmeal, and Draco hated oatmeal. It showed such a lack of effort in some way. History of Magic should never be the first class of the day, reason being the extreme amount of boredom makes the day seem longer. At least in Potions he was able to ridicule Weasley.
Ah, Potions. The highlight of his day.
Not only was the young Malfoy good at the class in question, he was a teachers pet. Yes, Draco was a much loved student to the intimidating Professor Severus Snape himself. The potions professor seemed to love Draco. Well, as far as intimidating potions professors go anyway. And although Draco was slightly nervous around his Head of House (to which he would never admit to), he respected him and admired the older man. Yes, seeing Snape brightened his day.
The final bell rang, and Draco couldn't have been more relieved. He stood from his desk, as did everyone else, and shoved his notes into his satchel. Rather uncoordinatedly. Of course, at the moment he could care less about how neat and organized his bag was. More thoughts were on his mind in that short time between packing up and the actual dungeon doorway. Winter was here, and he couldn't avoid it. He would have to go home once more for the Holidays, and face hell on earth. Ever since Potter had sent his father to Azkaban two years ago, his father had been beyond harsh. Yes, of course he escaped; Malfoys always have a way of escaping things.
How?
Everyone is entitled to a trial, Lucius having been no exception. He simply told the Ministry that he had been under the Imperius, slipped a few galleons under the table. That was really all it took, that with the confidence the senior Malfoy always had with him. During the whole trial he never broke a sweat, which made Draco nervous beyond reason.
And so Lucius was back in the Manor, and very disappointed. Which basically meant he would take his anger out on Draco. Great. At least Narcissa was smart enough to have left after the trial.
Draco had always been close to his mother, and to see her leave drove the boy to near insanity. With his mother being just about the only person who cared for him, he felt eternally lonely now. He remembered how Narcissa would comfort him while he lay in bed after Lucius had beaten him. Despite his wounds, those moments had made him feel comfortable.
The blonde found himself not moving in the empty classroom as he came back to reality. He had been standing there alone with his hands resting on his bag, and perhaps a few minutes after the bell had passed. To add on to his surprise, he wasn't exactly alone. A second shadow was on his desk next to him, a much taller one. This alone was enough to give the boy a heart attack, but he kept his composure and turned around.
"Sorry Professor, I was just leaving."
However, as Draco cast his eyes up at the professor, he was surprised to see he wasn't angry. In fact, he seemed curious. Not many had ever seen Severus Snape curious, but Draco was supposedly blessed enough to witness it. He pulled his satchel on his shoulder automatically and moved away awkwardly. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising slightly in embarrassment. However, just as he was leaving a pale hand rested on his shoulder.
"Mr. Malfoy."
Severus paused until Draco's eyes met his, and continued.
"I'm here if you need someone to talk to."
Draco found himself staring at his professor questioningly, but simply nodded meekly in response. He couldn't say that he wasn't surprised to see an emotion so similar to compassion in the daunting professor.but he was grateful all the same.
"Thank you, Professor," he added, his voice uncharacteristically quiet as he moved to the door and took his leave.