Challenging Draco
DISCLAIMER - These characters and the original idea all belong to JK Rowling. It is a great privilege to be able to borrow them for fun.
The parchment came by owl and as Draco Malfoy read the words, a small frown puckered the alabastor skin of his forehead. The precise lettering, marching in ink across the page read like a summons, not an invitation and Draco had only ever been invited to the office of his Head of House.
"My office at 7."
Perplexed, the boy pocketed the note. If he was perturbed at the peremptory tone used in the missive , he would still obey it. Professor Severus Snape was not a man to ignore.
He was a life long friend of Draco's parents and one of the few teachers in this school that was worthy of the name. Draco enjoyed the knowledge that he had a unique relationship with one of the most powerful teachers in this school, the one that no student underestimated.
And so, at five minutes shy of seven, the blonde haired boy walked alone along the candle lit, shadowy corridors that led downwards towards the dungeons. A strip of light beneath the heavy wooden door at the end of the last corridor told him the Professor was in his office. Draco raised his hand and knocked twice, a low, polite sound.
The door swung open and black robes filled the space, so Draco looked up and up to find the face of his Head of House.
"Good evening Professor," he said.
The tall wizard remained silent. Draco felt discomfitted, stony receptions were not usual. He was a Malfoy and the name commanded reverence.
When Snape reached out a hand and grasped hold of his collar, yanking him forcefully over the threshold, the boy let out a panicked squeak. He struggled to free himself but the fist holding him was a vice he could not escape.
If the frosty silence had rattled Draco, being manhandled had him emitting little mews of anxiety.
With a careless flick of his wrist, Snape released him and Draco quickly planted his feet. Breathing a little faster than normal, he smoothed the shiny hair, brushed his wrinkled, expertly cut robes back into shape. His eyes betrayed a burgeoning fear but his face carried a familiar sneer.
The little aristocrat seeking to restore his control. It would have impresssed Snape if he hadn't seen that look a thousand times on Malfoy senior's face. Father and son, the courage ran only skin deep.
"I don't know what's up, Professor but that is hardly a suitable way to greet a student. My father would not think so," Draco intoned.
Snape lifted an eyebrow, his only response. His silence endured and this was more troubling to the boy than the rough handling.
Draco's colour was high, his usual pallor retreating behing a reddening scald. He moved nervously, continually brushing his robes.
Snape leaned a little closer and thinking that the man was about to lay hands on him again, Draco took a hasty step backwards.
"What would your father think of his son mulishly stalking the movements of Harry Potter like a star struck fan?" he asked, finally.
The waspish, mocking question made the boy blink.
"What are you talking about?"
"You know very well, Draco. Don't play the fool with me."
"If this is about the Astronomy tower, I am telling you, Potter and Granger had a dragon. I heard them talking about it with that great, useless oaf. I tried to tell McGonagall but she is as stupid as that old fool of a Headmaster," Draco's lip curled.
"I thought this was my chance to rid the school of wonder boy and if that great heap went with him, all the better. Next time, I'll do it," Draco spat.
He was feeling a little bruised now. The Professor was not sounding at all as Draco imagined that he would. He himself was no fan of Hagrid's and he loathed Potter. What was he looking to stern about? Draco was sure Snape would have been congratulating him for his efforts.
"Next time?"
Again, that lift of one brow and again, those black eyes taunted.
"It seems you need a reality check, Draco. There will be no next time, of that be assured. After tonight, it will be a long time before you get a yen to mope around this castle after Harry Potter like a weak minded wannabe!"
Outrage and humiliation fought a furious battle for control of Draco's emotions. He would have issued a denial, an angry retort but the Professor raised a long, shapely hand, silencing any reply he would have made.
"Jealousy is not a good look for a Slytherin. Neither is failure. You have wrapped yourself in both."
The truth of the reprimand stung and Draco's gaze faltered.
"I am not jealous! I am telling you, McGonagall would not listen! She had the wool pulled over her eyes!" he insisted.
"Professor McGonagall, Draco."
The boy scowled and looked away.
"It was easy work for her to catch you out. Caught like a dunderheaded Gryffindor, as I heard it. And to compound matters, Mr. Filch tells me you moaned and whined about your detention like a coward. If it was anyone else, Draco, anyone else and I would drum them out of my House without a second thought."
The man had not raised his voice, each word was bitten out but Draco's ears roared almost painfully. He realized it was his own blood pounding in his head.
"I served my detention! We were taken into the forest and made scavange like servants, like savages!" Draco's tone was injured and indignation flashed in his light eyes.
"I see you have not learned the obvious lesson. No, not that it was wrong to be out after dark. That if you behave like an immature, green eyed fool, mimicking the actions of those beneath your station and birthright as a Slytherin, then that is how you shall be treated."
Seeing his barb hit home, Snape's lips twisted in a satisfied sneer.
Before Draco had recovered from this unexpected onslaught from the one teacher he had an ounce of respect for, he found Snape's hand once more closing on him.
This time, the Professor took hold of his arm and spun him forcefully.
As he did, he leaned against the edge of a desk and Draco found himself staring at the dusty floor of the dungeon, suspended across the Potion Master's knee.
A sense of disbelief froze him, as though he was under a full body bind spell. It was only when the first sharp smack landed on his rear that Draco reacted.
A howl left his throat and he kicked hard. A second whack landed more vigorously.
"Do not fight me. This gets a lot worse if you keep this up, Draco," the warning was as stark and cold as the flagstones beneath the boy's eyes.
By the time the spanking was over, Draco's face was wet with tears and he felt as though his backside was surely blistered.
Gasping, sobbing, he felt a hand rubbing soft circles between his narrow shoulder blades.
"Easy boy. Breathe, just breathe," Snape's voice sounded far away, as though coming from inside a cave.
He was set back on his feet and the Professor's hands took hold of his shoulders, gently this time, exerting no force.
"You are alright. Do you hear me, Draco? You will be fine."
Though the words were spoken with the genteel tone Draco was accustomed to hearing from Snape, they did not stem the torrent of tears, the hacking sobs that hurt his throat. He tried to speak but he did not have enough air in his lungs to lift the words from his mouth.
"Hush, hush now! Merlin's beard what a fuss!"
The boy found himself drawn forward and his hot cheek came to rest against a solid form. The Professor's robes were slightly rough beneath his skin but Draco leaned into the embrace.
He closed his eyes and drew from the strength of the man holding him. If he closed his eyes, that solid, reassuringly strong form could block out the humiliation, the vexation, the hurt he was feeling.
The tide of tears at last ran dry and the heaving sobs quietened to hiccups. Still Snape cradled him and Draco realised the older man was saying something to him.
His voice sounded deeper now that Draco's ear was pressed against his chest. It was strangely comforting.
"There you are. Draco, calm yourself, you are unharmed."
The boy pulled away and looked into the face of his teacher, frowning unhappily.
"No I am not! You attacked me!'
He hurled the words with as much vehemence as he could manage but his voice was hoarse from the tears he had shed.
Draco could not believe what had just happened. If his eyes were not swollen and burning and his seat did not feel so tender, he would have been sure he had imagined this awful tableau.
"That is not true. I spanked you. No one else ever has, I think."
"No! They have not because I do not stand for being manhandled and assaulted and beaten!"
Snape shook his head, his midnight hair falling to almost hide his eyes.
"If you continue to shout and rage at me, I will give you a second, more thorough taste. Maybe my hand was not enough and a good switch would do a better job of teaching you some courtesy!"
The threat had the desired effect of silencing the boy. Draco's lips clammed shut but the defiant, injured look did not leave his eyes.
"You have not been beaten. You were given a punishment long overdue to you. "
Confronted once more with the harsh, unrelenting side of the Head of Slytherin, Draco's veneer of insolence crumbled.
"I thought you liked me!" he stammered.
"You are my godson. The child of my oldest friends. I have known you all of your life and I have marked you for a Slythering before you took your first step. Of course I like you. And I care for you. When did I ever say otherwise?"
Snape's onyx eyes bored into the boy's watery, blood shot gaze.
"You hit me!"
The accusation was spoken sulkily but Draco did not quite mask his upset.
"Yes and more of the same is exactly what you will get from me if I ever get a whiff of you skulking around after the Potter boy or anyone else like a shifty lackey! You are Draco Malfoy, for goodness sake. If you cannot show a bit of pride in yourself, then by the druids, I will make it my mission to bring you to heel!"
Snape glowered at him and Draco's mouth fell open in surprise.
"What?"
"What are you doing, Draco? Measuring yourself by Potter's standards? Trying to match his famous name or destroy him if you can't?"
The golden head shook once in denial.
"No. I just want to take him down a notch or two."
"What you are to give your attention to, your fullest attention , Draco, is taking yourself up a notch or two. I have seen you fly and you are graceful and swift. You know more about Potion making than any other first year in this school. And I am told by Professor Flitwick that you are performing more than capably at Charms. Why does a boy like that need to bring down others to stand tall?"
The question made Draco's head feel funny and his eyes stung as more tears prodded his eyelids.
"Stop comparing yourself to others, Draco. That includes Harry Potter and it includes your father. You are not either of them and that is fine with me."
Draco blinked, hoping to hide the shameful second bout of tears that rose in him. If he had been offered the contents of Gringott's vaults, he could not have made himself speak, so he dropped his head and tried to clear his throat.
A firm hand landed once more on his shoulders.
"I know the man you want to be and I know you have even more than that in you. I can see it. So never let me catch you letting yourself down again, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco sniffed and looked up, once again tilting his head back so his eys could find the tall wizard's face.
There was gratitude in his eyes and he gave a small smile.
"I won't."
The Professor nodded at him.
"Go on, back to your dorm. We will say no more of this."
At the door the boy stopped, turned back.
"Severus? Professor? Um, you won't tell my father about this, will you?"
Snape's face was impassive.
"What happened here stays between the two of us Draco. It does not concern anyone else."
"Thank you." The lad turned his back, took a step onto the corridor.
"I will see you in Potions tomorrow?" he glanced over his shoulder.
Snape inclined his head in a langorous nod.
"You will be welcome to join me for tea after last lesson, if you so desire."
Draco's face was full of open, childish pleasure.
"Yes please. Tomorrow then. Good evening, Professor."
The boy's steps were light as he followed the winding corridor towards the Slytherin dorms. Though he smarted some from the spanking, he felt somehow more free than he had ever felt in his life.
He did not have to walk in his father's footsteps, something that had never before occcurred to him.
Draco had always believed himself to be unequal to the task of shouldering his father's formidable legacy.
It made him feel very happy to imagine that he had his own destiny to make and that at least one person believed he was on course to do it well.