Tw: homophobia, violence, alluded to sexual assault towards a minor, suicide ideation & suicidal actions, threat & mentions of rape

Ron knocks timidly on Draco's bedroom door at 10 pm. They made sure to make a speedy exit before Dean or Seamus tried to start any drinking games in the dormitory in honour of his birthday. There's no reply for about a minute, and Ron doesn't hear any movement. Maybe Draco is asleep? He tries the door; unlocked, so they decide to go in.

Ron grins as he admires Draco's room; balloons are tied to the bookshelf and party streamers lie about.

Suddenly, Draco springs up from behind the sofa. "Happy birthday!"

Ron jumps, holding his heart. "Jesus Christ, Draco."

Draco bounds over and launches into a massive hug. "Happy seventeenth! Sorry I scared you," he chuckles.

"Thank you," he says, eyeing the room. "I love what you've done with the place. Just for me?"

"Of course. I thought I'd make it a bit special."

"I can't do anything differently now I'm seventeen," says Ron.

"I don't care, it's still a special day," says Draco. "Now come." He drags them over to the sofa. "Present time."

Draco jumps down on top of him, squashing Ron who's lying on the sofa.

"You're in such a good mood, have you been drinking or something?" Ron says, pushing him off.

"Drinking makes me sad," Draco says. "I'm just excited for your birthday. Now, open."

He drops a small collection of wrapped presents into Ron's lap.

"Are these all for me?" Ron says.

"Yeah."

Ron smiles in anticipation and picks up the smallest one. He rips off the wrapping paper to three honey-coloured hair bows.

"Oh, wow," they gasp, rubbing the satin fabric. "Is this for my hair?"

"Yeah, since you're growing it out, I thought you'd like something to put in it."

"I love them," Ron beams, fiddling around with the clips. "Put them in, I want to see what it looks like."

"Where do I put them?"

"Uh, I don't know. Like, on the sides."

Draco clips them vaguely into the sides of Ron's hair.

"Tell me if I look like a five year old girl," Ron says as Draco steps back to admire his work.

"No, you look cute," Draco smiles. "They suit you."

Ron stands up to look in Draco's tiny mirror.

"Oh my God," he exclaims, admiring themselves from different angles. "I look hot, what the fuck?"

"Yeah you do," Draco smiles smugly at him.

"Don't give me that look," Ron says.

"What look?"

"The I-want-to-fuck eyes."

"I'm not doing that."

"Yes, you are," says Ron. "I'm opening the other presents so you can stop that."

"But birthday sex," Draco pouts.

"You'll be lucky to be getting a birthday kiss at this rate."

"What the hell?"

Ron collapses into a laugh at Draco's indignant expression. "I'm joking, you horny freak." They wrap their arms around Draco's neck and pull him in for a long kiss.

Ron ends up with Draco rolled on top of them, snogging them with as much vigour as he can manage for the next five minutes. They pull apart, flushed faces and messy hair.

"Happy now?" Ron says, exhaling with the distinct fluttering in his stomach he always gets when they kiss.

"I'm more than happy," Draco says, which would've been a nice thing to say if not for his sly smirk. Ron pretends not to notice and grabs the next present.

"I had no idea if this was the right sort," Draco says as Ron tears the paper off to reveal a small box. In it lies a colourful selection of threads and beads.

"Oh, these are the expensive type," Ron says, running his fingers through the fabrics. "I was completely running out of these, how did you know?"

"A magician never reveals their tricks."

"Well, thank you, Draco," they say, looking over the vast selection of threads and beads.

"One more thing," he says, throwing a large sack at Ron. "I hope you like this, I didn't know which size to get because I haven't exactly taken your measurements, but yeah. Let me know."

Ron tears off the paper curiously. There's an apricot-coloured piece of clothing, which they hold up to see a braid knit sweater.

"I saw this and thought it was a bit of you," says Draco.

Ron strokes the soft fabric. "Yeah, this looks so nice."

"Try it on, see if it fits."

"Okay," says Ron. "Turn around."

Draco gives them a look.

"What?"

"Turn around?" he smirks.

Ron crosses his arms. "Yeah, I don't know if you can be trusted with how you're going on this evening."

"One bit of skin and I'll come over there and fuck you, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, so turn around."

"Fine, fine," says Draco, shuffling to face the wall with a tiny smile.

Ron slips into the oversized jumper. He bounds back over to Draco and throws their arms around his shoulders.

"Do you like it?" Draco says, holding Ron's arms tightly. He rests his head on their neck, leaning back to look into their eyes.

"Yeah, I love it, it's so comfy."

Draco spins around and kisses him, stroking the soft fabric of the jumper as Ron leans their weight into him.

"You're like a big fluffy teddy bear with this jumper on," says Draco, hugging them and swinging them in a circle.

Ron giggles, nestling into his shoulders. "Draco?" he murmurs into Draco's shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"I want to lie on your tummy."

Draco smirks, amused. "My tummy?"

"You know that thing around just above your waist and below your tits?"

"Yeah, alright smart-arse," he says. "Where do you want me?" He points between the sofa and the bed. Ron signals to the bed.

"I see," he grins.

"Don't get any ideas," says Ron.

"So you want me to just lie here?" asks Draco, falling into bed.

Ron collapses onto him, bunching up their legs so they can fit on the bed with their head on Draco's chest. "This is perfect."

"Ok, so tell me about what else you've been doing today," Draco says, pulling his fingers through Ron's hair.

"Well," says Ron, contentedly flopped on his rising and falling chest. "Fred and George played a prank on me at breakfast. That was a great start to my birthday."

"What did they do?"

"I don't know, it was stupid," they say. "I was trying to eat but they'd made my food disappear and reappear somewhere else. And Harry and Hermione got me a cake, which was bloody delicious."

"Did they get you anything nice?" Draco asks.

"They got me something, that's for sure."

"It was that bad, was it?"

Ron pulls a face into Draco's chest. "It was the straightest looking hoodie you've ever seen."

"Oh, God."

"Yeah," Ron sighs. "It was black and white and had this dog on, because, you know, my Patronus is a terrier."

"Since when do you wear black and white?"

"Exactly," Ron says. "Well, if I ever want to look like I sleep with women I'll remember to put that on."

Draco snorts. "I don't think that would do enough. You'd have to shave your hair and wear skinny jeans and smile less."

Ron looks up at him. "Do I actually look gay?"

Draco wheezes which turns into a short coughing fit.

"Fucking hell, alright," Ron says indignantly.

"You're literally the gayest cunt I've ever met," Draco chokes out in another bout of wheezes, which Ron is extremely unimpressed by. "Ron, I've seen you suck a dick. Mine, actually. That's pretty gay, bro."

"Don't fucking call me bro."

Draco cracks up again. "That's more like it," he sniggers. "Anyway, no, you wouldn't be able to tell unless you mentioned it."

"Right."

"I was joking," Draco says, hugging them tightly and suppressing his smile. "You look as gay as anyone else does."

"That's helpful," Ron mutters.

"Sorry," Draco says as he jerks Ron's head slightly by running his hand through a tangle.

"It's my fault, I should've brushed my hair before this," Ron replies sleepily. The gentle up and down motion of Draco's chest is lulling him off to sleep already.

"Hey," Draco says quietly, tapping a finger on Ron's head as their eyelids droop closed.

"Mhm?" he says, blinking awake.

"Were you planning to sleep here?" Draco asks. "I'm fine with that, but just in case you had other plans."

Ron shuffles over so he's faceup. "Oh, yeah," they say, slightly dazed. "I'm meant to be going back, sorry."

"It's okay," Draco says, smiling at sleepy Ron rolling off the bed.

"Thank you so much for all the stuff," Ron says as they collect up the ribbons and threads.

"You're very welcome," Draco says, walking with him to the door. "What are you doing for the holidays?"

"I'm going to be staying at Hogwarts," says Ron. "My parents aren't a fan of Easter."

"Shit, well I'm being flown off back to the Malfoy Manor tomorrow," Draco says, sliding his arms through Ron's.

"For the whole two weeks?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"We can meet when you're next back then?" Ron says.

"Yes, we should do that. First Tuesday back."

They gaze into each other's eyes and lean into a warm kiss.

"Draco, I can't kiss you properly, I'm holding stuff," Ron mumbles as Draco pushes their back against the door.

"Down to me to do all the work then," Draco says, slipping his hands under their jumper. "As per usual."

"Oi-"

Draco kisses them before they can protest, pushing his hips onto theirs while Ron holds their presents to the side.

"Fuck it," says Ron, carefully dropping his presents a moment later. "You win."

Draco grins as they wrap their arms around his shoulders and lean in for a proper kiss, their tongues working into each other's mouths.

"Bloody hell, you've been gagging for this all evening, haven't you?" says Ron, pulling back, a familiar fluttering in their stomach at Draco's hands resting on their lower back.

"Birthday sex is the best sex."

"We are not having sex, I need to get back soon."

"I know, but just imagine me fucking you against the door."

Draco holds Ron's shoulders and slowly spins them around so their cheek is up against the door and he's pushing his front into their back.

"See," he says, his voice catching in his throat as he grinds his body into the back of Ron's.

"Draco-" Ron starts, their cheeks burning and feeling Draco's hands clasp around their lower stomach.

"Yeah?" Draco murmurs, bringing his head into the nape of their neck.

"You're turning me on," Ron giggles nervously.

Draco's eyebrows shoot up, keeping his body pressed onto Ron's. "Am I?"

Ron turns back around to face Draco. "Kiss me again," they say. "But like. More. I don't know how to describe it. Like, harder."

Draco smiles at their red cheeks. "Anything for my birthday Ron," he says, and leans in, this time driving his tongue into their mouth without hesitation.

Ron grabs onto his shoulders as Draco kisses him, their back arching against the door as Draco grinds his hips into theirs with much more force than before. The two of them make soft noises into each other's mouths, a new energy charged into them both, each part of their bodies pushed against the other's. Draco loses track of time, focused on knocking the breath out of Ron, and Ron reminds himself to breath as Draco's hands seem to run over every inch of their body.

"Okay, I'm going to need to stop there," says Draco eventually.

Ron smiles at his unusually flushed face. "Why?"

"I'm just, yeah," says Draco, stepping away from Ron. "We can continue if you want, it's your birthday and everything. I mean, it was really good but I'm going to fucking lose my shit if we keep going on like that. It's like constant edging."

"I've found how to break Draco Malfoy," Ron grins. "The best birthday present."

"Yeah, sure," says Draco, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you going now?"

Ron raises an eyebrow as they pick their presents back up. "Why, are you in a rush?"

"No."

Ron regards him for a long moment, narrowing their eyes at his fidgety state. "Do you want me to leave so you can wank off?"

Draco lets out a short laugh, slightly embarrassed Ron managed to hit the nail on the head. "Maybe."

"Freak," Ron mutters, somehow turning redder at the prospect.

"Stay and watch if you want," Draco says, taking his chance to ease his embarrassment. "I'm sure I'll be able to finish a lot quicker with you sitting there."

Ron doesn't know what to say to this, and Draco snickers at their panicked state.

"First Tuesday back, yeah?" he says.

"Yes," nods Ron.

Draco opens the door for Ron, their hands full with the presents.

"Have fun with your wank," Ron says, leaning into his hug.

"Yeah, thanks a lot."

Ron grins, satisfied at finally being able to make Draco flustered. "Night Draco. See you soon."

Draco brushes the hair out of their face. "Goodnight Ron."

[Three weeks later]

Ron jumps into Draco's bedroom for the second time after the uneventful Easter holidays.

"Hi," they say, diving onto the sofa.

"Oh hi, you're early," says Draco, getting up from his desk.

"Yeah, I can only stay for, like, one minute tonight, sorry. We're going to sneak out once I get back. I said I was going to the toilet."

Draco kisses him in greeting. "That's alright. Where are you off to?"

"Secret," says Ron. They pull something out from their pocket. "Look what I made you," he says excitedly, handing Draco a green and white beaded necklace.

"Aw, this is cute," smiles Draco.

"I made it using the beads and thread you got me for my birthday."

Draco clips it behind his head then lets it fall around his neck.

"I love it. Thanks, Ron."

Ron flings their arms around him, blushing slightly. "Okay, I've got to go now."

Draco stops him with a hand on their thigh. He pauses just next to their face. "Leaving that quickly?" he murmurs, gently kissing him.

Ron kisses him back, letting Draco push them underneath him.

"I seriously have to go," says Ron as Draco starts kissing with tongue.

"Ok, ok." Draco smirks at Ron's flushed face, shifting his hands off them so they can get up.

"See you on Friday," he says. "Don't get into too much trouble with Harry and Hermione."

"I'll try not to," Ron says, opening the door. "Bye-bye."

"Night, Ron."

Draco wonders if he dropped out of potions class whether Slughorn would stop all of this. It's after school again in the potions classroom, always the same dingy room with the same smell of chloride and the same unswept floor.

Draco sits rigidly on the chair next to Slughorn, facing away from him as he reaches forward to undo his shirt's buttons in silence. What he would give to be anywhere else right now.

"This is new," says Slughorn. Draco glances back to see Slughorn clutching the necklace Ron made for him.

"It was a present," he says tightly.

"From?"

"Ron."

Slughorn makes a noise between a laugh and a scoff. In one swift motion, he yanks the necklace off, breaking it and spilling the carefully crafted beads onto the floor.

Draco leaps up, instantly alive.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he yells, gesturing to the green and white beads, all the built-up emotions spilling out. "He made that for me!"

Slughorn glares at him with contempt. "I don't want to see your faggy necklaces. You're disgusting, you know? Making necklaces for each other? You're not girls. If you want to be treated like a man then bloody well start acting like one."

"I'm disgusting? Have you seen yourself?"

"I've never been in a relationship with another man," Slughorn shouts.

"No, you're just a paedophile which is far fucking better," Draco screams back.

They glower at each other, tension in the room as thick as fog.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that," hisses Slughorn.

"I'm not your bitch," Draco spits back.

"Shut your mouth or you'll regret it," says Slughorn in a dangerously low voice.

"Or what? You're going to rape me?" Draco scoffs. "You've already done that remember? What's next, sir?" He spits the word with contempt. "Are you going to torture me? Are you going to kill me?" In one furious motion, he pulls out his wand out his pocket and points it at his own temple. "Or shall I save you the trouble and do it myself? Well?" shouts Draco, his eyes wide open. "I'm this fucking close, Professor. I am this close." He stabs the wand onto his head. "Give me a reason to kill myself. I will do it right now, right on your classroom floor. I will kill myself in this room. Rape my dead body while you're at it, why don't you? There's my fucking consent since you asked so nicely."

"Stop making such a scene," Slughorn snarls.

"Or what?" Draco says, his voice wobbling and furious tears forming in his eyes. "What could you possibly do to me that you haven't already done? You have taken my happiness away from me. You have taken everything good from me." Raw emotion stings in his voice, the wand not moving from his temple. "The reason I go to sleep every night wanting to kill myself is all because of you, you have done this to me, you have ruined my life," he shouts.

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?" Slughorn says, his usual mocking tone absent as he warily eyes Draco's shaking hand still clenched tightly around his wand, pointing to his head.

Draco holds eye contact with him, and he can see the uncertainty in Slughorn's eyes, the slight fear that he might do it, he might kill himself in this moment, right in front of him.

"Scared I'm going to do it, Professor?" Draco says quietly, tears in his eyes as he smiles humourlessly.

"I don't care if you live or die," says Slughorn as smoothly as possible, playing it off like it's not the first time Draco has posed him any threat.

"Don't be stupid, of course you do," Draco says, all care for the consequences of this conversation down the drain. "I'm your only thread of relevancy on this planet. Without me, you have nothing." He gives a one-syllable humourless laugh. "Oh, look, Professor, you've just found me a reason to kill myself." He stares into Slughorn's eyes, exhausted despair radiating from every part of his body as he tightens his grip on the wand. "To spite you."

"Expelliarmus," Slughorn shouts just as Draco opens his mouth to utter a spell. His wand drops to the floor.

"Have you finished with your theatrics?" Slughorn says, his cold words cutting through the dead air.

Draco stares numbly at his wand out of reach on the floor, and Slughorn exhales imperceptibly out of relief. He needs Draco alive. Slughorn manages a small smile, just big enough to transform Draco's shock back into fury.

"This is all your fault," Draco yells. "You have ruined my life and I hate you, you fucking cunt. I hope you rot in hell."

Slughorn's black eyes pierce through Draco as he curls his lip.

"You're going to wish you'd taken your chance, Draco," Slughorn says dangerously quietly.

"Give me my wand," says Draco, pure fatigue in his voice, his shoulders slumped and his eyes dead. "Give me my wand back and let me go."

Slughorn knows he doesn't mean let him go from the classroom. He picks up Draco's wand with no intention of 'letting him go' in either sense.

"No," he says.

Draco realises he's made a huge mistake by having this conversation, by even raising his voice. His bravado crumbles and he finds himself once again reduced to a defenceless schoolboy, unable to defend himself or to do anything except wait for Slughorn to make a move. Slughorn isn't exactly the type for sympathy, and something tells him he won't want to return to his gentle touches of earlier. In fact, Slughorn looks as if he wants nothing more than to have Draco's dead body bleeding out on his classroom floor at his feet right about now.

Draco comes to his senses, and his natural survival instincts kick in as he lunges towards the door. He pulls down the handle with desperate force. The door rattles: locked.

He barely has a chance to look back before Slughorn is tackling him to the floor, holding him down and attacking with brutal force. He punches him over and over again. Draco cries out, resisting with his arms, a new blow of pain every second. As he begins to lose consciousness, he feels wetness down his face and chest. He holds up an arm and sees blood smeared everywhere.

Slughorn stands up, finishing off the job by stamping his boot heel into Draco's ribs until he finally drops fully unconscious. He gazes indifferently at his body, naked from the torso up, blood across his face and chest. He leans over him, framing his hands around Draco's face, and brushes his lips to his ear. "Better luck next time."

Slughorn returns to his desk to finish marking a test from last week. He then changes into clean robes and washes his hands. He checks the clock- hours past curfew; everyone will be in their rooms meaning no one will check on Draco until the morning.

Slughorn regards the unconscious body on his classroom floor. It would be a shame to lose his increasingly crucial position with Voldemort. He sighs, remembering the crunching down of his boot into Draco's chest. A few broken ribs, at least. He can hear Draco rasping for breath, and the amount of blood on the floor would be concerning if he cared about Draco in any capacity at all. Still, it would be frustrating if he died.

Reluctantly, Slughorn unlocks the classroom door and starts dragging Draco to the San.

"Can I get some help here?" Slughorn calls as he enters the San holding Draco in his arms.

"What happened to him?" The night shift nurses rush over, putting Draco onto a stretcher.

"I don't know, I just found him like this," says Slughorn, concern pouring from his voice. "It looks like he got into a fight."

"He's in the best place now, don't you worry Professor."

"Inform me immediately when he wakes up, please," says Slughorn, eyeing Draco.

"Of course."

Hours later in the early hours of the morning, Draco slowly regains consciousness. The first thing he feels is searing pain in his chest and arms.

"He's come around," whispers a voice.

"Thank goodness for that. I thought he wasn't going to make it."

"I'll let the Professor know."

Draco slowly blinks his eyes open. The disorientation wears off almost immediately, and he remembers him screaming at Slughorn, the end of his wand digging into his temple, Slughorn leaning over him, punching him over and over, lying half-conscious on the potions classroom floor thinking Slughorn was going to kill him, thinking he almost killed himself. He can't remember anything after that, but someone must've found him and brought him to the San.

The pain doesn't wear off. He looks at his arms where he tried to defend himself, all cut up and bruised. His chest and ribs look even worse, purple and swollen, bandages covering the worst of it.

"Do you remember what happened, dear?" says a nurse.

Cold air brushes in as the doors open and Slughorn strides in, looking intently at Draco, warning in his eyes.

"Could I talk to him for a moment?" says Slughorn pleasantly. He takes a seat next to Draco's bed, smiling sadly until the nurse leaves.

"How are you feeling, Draco?" he says. "A bit sore today?"

Draco doesn't answer.

"You were in a fight last night and you won't say who it was with. I found you in the corridor outside my classroom and helped you to the San." He places a firm hand on Draco's thigh. "Okay?"

"Ok," mutters Draco, flaring his nostrils at the contact. He feels helpless. Emotionally and now physically, Slughorn has absolute and unquestionable control over him. He should've killed himself when he had the chance.

"Now," Slughorn continues in a dangerously sweet voice. "If you ever raise your voice at me again, or you try to pull some stupid stunt again, or you even consider telling anyone what happened, I'm going to rape you until you're begging for me to kill you. Then I'm going to string your dead body up in Weasely's room and make sure he finds it. Alright?"

Draco makes an incomprehensible noise.

"There's a good boy." He leans in and kisses him forcefully on the mouth. "Not a word, to anyone."

"What are you doing?" Draco wheezes out as Slughorn shoves his hand onto his body. He doesn't have the energy to shout loud enough for anyone to hear him and he doesn't have the strength to move his body to escape from Slughorn's grasp.

"Finishing what I started on Thursday." Slughorn stands up, pressing his hands onto the bandages that wrap around Draco's ribs.

Draco gasps out, breaking out into sobs that send further pain whistling through his entire upper body. "Professor, stop. My- my ribs. It hurts."

He groans in pain as Slughorn pushes one hand onto his chest to hold Draco in place, despite him being too weak to move at all. For a second, Draco believes that this is the end; Slughorn is going to kill him, right here, he's going to crush all the life out of him.

The continued pressure of his hand on his bruised and broken ribs causes a gasp to catch in Draco's throat, a hot flush almost knocking him unconscious. Slughorn notices that he's reaching a physical boundary and eases the pressure on his ribs. Draco exhales shakily, his eyes half-closed, believing it's over, that Slughorn has stopped.

Then he feels his belt being undone and the sharp sobs return, and this time they don't cease. He wishes he could move his arms or jump back or scream for help. But he just lies motionless with Slughorn listening to his pathetically tiny sobs.

"Stop, please stop, please-" Draco whimpers over and over until he isn't sure if he's saying it out loud anymore. "Professor," he pleads with his last thread of energy, gulping out the words between sobs. "Please just stop." Snot and tears stream down his face. Slughorn pays him no attention whatsoever, keeping his back to Draco as he continues.

"See, you enjoyed that in the end, didn't you?" Slughorn says another five minutes later. He takes his time buckling Draco back up.

Draco has been closing his eyes and focusing on the physical pain as a distraction. It didn't work, of course. He was conscious for every single painstaking, humiliating second.

"No more," Draco coughs out, his head pounding with a headache, his eyes red brimmed; he hasn't stopped crying since.

"Remember what I said," Slughorn says, leering over him. "You were in a fight last night. You say a word of this to anyone and you know exactly what will be coming to you and Weasely."

Draco's shoulders slump, defeated.

"I hope you make a speedy recovery," Slughorn smiles, heading towards the door. "You're no fun lying there like a dead fish," he says over his shoulder. With a wave, he's out of the room and Draco is trying to take deep breaths to calm down.

His eyes are puffy and red and there's a twinge of pain each time he breathes in. It would be easy to say the emotional hurt outweighs the physical suffering, but it fucking hurts. Everything hurts.

He stares at the white ceiling and imagines that he's at the gates of heaven. What he'd do right now for a moment of joy, of hope, of anything other than the crushing humiliation at his body's reaction to Slughorn. Draco wonders how badly he must've messed up in previous lives to get given a life like this, or what evil God is out there trying, and succeeding, to make his life unbearable.

Why didn't he just do it? End it all in Slughorn's classroom, right then and there? The wand was in his hand, pointed at his head. One avarda kedavra and it would've all been over.

And for one glorious second, he had control over Slughorn. For a split second, Slughorn was scared of him. It's that thought that keeps him going.

Snape strides towards the San. Just before lessons started, he was informed that Draco was in the San and would not be attending lessons. He arrives, demanding to see him as a matter of urgency. One of the nurses takes him to the small room Draco was moved to.

"Draco?" says Snape, entering the side room. He glares in horror over Draco's apparently lifeless body. It's been beaten horribly, scars, marks and bruises across every inch of his upper body, his face swollen and battered.

"Yes?" says Draco quietly, opening his puffy eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," Draco says, his voice coming out strained and rough.

"What on earth happened?"

"I was in a fight last night," he recites, expressionless. "I won't tell you who with."

Snape looks over him incredulously. "Well, you can tell me. Was it one of the Gryffindors? Did you break anything?"

"I will make a full recovery."

Snape guesses by his terse responses that Draco must still be in shock. "Okay. Look, I've got lessons to teach now but I'll check on you later, then we can get to the bottom of this."

As the door closes, a few tears escape from Draco. He wanted to tell Snape so badly, to have him concerned and angry on his behalf, to confront Slughorn about it, to protect him.

Snape approaches one of the nurses. "Is Draco going to be okay?" he asks.

She gives a sympathetic smile. "Yes, he's expected to make a full recovery. I was a bit surprised at the state he came in though. Three broken ribs, a fractured humerus, and there was some internal bleeding, too. But we managed to stabilise him and he's taking it easy for a few days in here. It's lucky Professor Slughorn found him when he did, or he could've been in some serious trouble."

"Professor Slughorn found him?"

"That's right," says the nurse with oblivious enthusiasm. "He seemed really worried, well, I suppose who wouldn't be finding one of the children like that?"

Snape's mind clouds, uneasy at the idea of Slughorn 'finding' him. This paired with Draco's unusual reaction leads to one conclusion: Slughorn did this. But why? What could Draco have done to deserve this? He marches back into the small room.

"Draco," says Snape. Draco turns, surprised to see him again. Although he exhales with relief, he holds a weary guarded expression.

"Tell me what happened," he says. "The truth."

Draco seizes up, Slughorn's words echoing around the room. I'm going to rape you until you're begging for me to kill you. Then I'm going to string your dead body up in Weasely's room and make sure he finds it.

Nauseatingly anxiety hits Draco, and Snape watches him, his suspicions confirmed.

"Was it Professor Slughorn?" he asks gently, biting back the streak of fury.

Draco's features tighten. "No."

"What's he said to you?" Snape says. "What the bloody hell was he thinking? Why has he done this to you?"

Draco flinches at Snape's redirected anger. "It wasn't him," he says.

"Draco, talk to me," Snape says desperately. "I know it was him." His soft tone transforms into anger recalling Slughorn's threats from February. "What does he think he was doing? When I see him I'm going to give him a piece of my mind, see how he likes it lying in the San."

"No," Draco says intensely. "Please." He lets out a painful cough. When has a 'please' ever convinced anyone? "He can't know I told anyone. Professor Snape, he'd, he'd hurt Ron, he'd kill me, you can't tell him, you can't-" He bursts into another bout of uncontrollable sobs. "He's going to rape me and kill me if I tell anyone, you can't make him know you know anything please Professor Snape, I don't want him to kill me I don't want Ron to see me dead, he's going to, he said he'd make Ron find my body and, and, I don't want, I can't make Ron, I just don't, don't tell him you know it was him, please."

"Draco, okay, just breathe. I won't say anything," Snape says, alarmed at the revelation. "Ron's going to be okay, all right? And you aren't going to die, you're going to be fine, the both of you."

"Okay," Draco snivells, tears continuing to run down his cheeks.

Snape stands there and watches Draco cry, unsure of how to even begin to help him. Comforting him with words will do very little, yet he can't even acknowledge Slughorn's actions as Slughorn's in case he carries through with his threats.

It feels like Groundhog Day.

"What else has he done, Draco?" he says, genuine concern lining his voice. "Has he been threatening you since February?"

"No, he's done nothing," Draco sniffs, his sobs calming down to silent tears.

"I already know about this and I'm not going to tell anyone, all right? So you can tell me about anything else that he's done and it won't make a difference to what Hor- Professor Slughorn will do. I can help you more if you tell me what's really going on."

Every fibre in Draco's body screams for him to just give in and nod to Snape and let him help him. It's torture being this close yet this far.

"He's not done anything else."

Snape considers this for a long moment. He has no idea if Draco is being truthful or not, but he suspects not.

"You need to rest," Snape says eventually. "We can talk about this later."

"Don't tell anyone," Draco pleads one last time.

"I won't," says Snape. "If he comes near you while you're in here, call for a nurse to fetch me, okay? I don't care when it is, get someone to come and get me. I won't let him near you."

Draco nods, fresh tears pricking the corners of his eyes at the worry pouring from Snape's voice, worry for him.

"Am I alright to go now?" he says.

"Yes."

Snape gives him one last sad look. "I'll come back later," he says, then goes out, shutting the door gently behind him.

Snape makes his way to the San for the fourth time since he last saw Draco on Friday morning. Each time he returned, Draco was asleep, and the nurses refused to let anyone disturb him. This time, Snape makes sure to go at visiting time: 2 pm. When he arrives, one of the nurses gives him a short smile. "You're in luck," she says. "He's awake."

Snape enters the San, a long corridor with ten beds on either side. There are a few younger students towards the entrance, chatting with each other and the nurses. Draco lies on the furthest bed alone, staring at nothing. Snape gets some looks from the students as he makes his way over to Draco's bed; it's unusual for professors to visit sick students.

"Hello," says Snape, sitting down on the creaky chair next to the bed. Draco's absent expression lights up as he sees Snape.

"Hello," he croaks, wincing in pain as he speaks.

"How are you?" asks Snape. It's a stupid question to ask; Draco's left arm is in a cast, his upper body is in bandages, he has two black eyes and a bruised face, and it looks like he's lost weight.

"I'm ok," he says.

Snape hesitates. He can't broach the subject of Slughorn while in earshot of everyone in the room. Draco notices his paranoid glances, so he tries to keep it casual.

"The nurses said I should be back in lessons next week," he manages to say.

"Next week?" Snape says. "Are you sure? That doesn't seem long. I thought you had three broken ribs?"

"I do," says Draco. "But they said the worse of the pain will stop after a week."

Snape looks over his battered body and sighs deeply, muttering something explicit under his breath.

"You'll need more time off than that," he says.

Draco stares up, exhausted. Every time he moves his left arm even slightly, a new streak of pain electrifies his body, and he can't breathe in without wincing. His head pounds and he hasn't eaten anything in three days.

"Do you know a spell..." Draco starts quietly. Snape leans in. "... that helps with the pain?"

Snape puffs out his cheeks, the words filling him with cascading sorrow. Draco doesn't look far from keeling over and dying and he knows Madame Pomfrey is deeply ingrained into Gryffindor culture. Maybe she wouldn't care if Draco died.

"Yes, darling, I do, just take a breath," Snape sighs. He mutters a pain soothing spell. "It's quite weak because I don't have access to any of my stronger potions, but it should help."

"Thank you."

"I don't see why they haven't sedated you already," Snape mutters as Draco visibly relaxes under the spell. Draco watches Snape's sympathetic face switch to anger and thinks he did something to offend him.

"The pain isn't that bad considering what happened," he whispers. That was apparently not the right thing to say either, because Snape's face twists into even more pronounced anger.

"Wait there," he says.

Draco watches with concern as Snape strides away.

"I need to speak to you," Snape demands, entering Matron's office.

Madame Pomfrey glances up, her cold eyes narrowing at the sight of Snape. "I'm busy at the moment. Can you speak to one of my staff?"

"No, I can't," says Snape. "Why isn't Draco receiving proper treatment?"

Madame Pomfrey smiles coldly. "If you want to make a formal complaint, the paperwork is there." She points to a stack of paper behind her.

"No," says Snape. "I don't want to make a formal complaint, I want you to give him proper treatment. What potions have you given him? He asked me for help to ease his pain, when that's supposed to be your job, so I hope you're asking yourself if you've been treating him as well as you can be."

"Professor Snape," she says haughtily. "I have been the matron for Hogwarts for over twenty years. I'm perfectly qualified to deal with students' needs. If I remind myself correctly, you're a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher with no background in medical care or healing practices."

"Have you seen him?" Snape retorts venomously. "He looks like he's on death's door and you've given him no pain relief and you're going to send him back to lessons in a week."

"I don't have to justify myself to you," says Madame Pomfrey. "We've given him sufficient pain relief. He came in in an awful state and we've stabilised him effectively. Of course he's going to be in pain, he's broken four bones."

Snape glares back, unsatisfied with her justification.

"I hope you're not suggesting we aren't doing our best to treat one of the students?"

"That is exactly what I'm suggesting," Snape snaps.

Madame Pomfrey holds his gaze, unphased. "As I said, the paperwork for making a complaint is on the desk behind me. If there's nothing else, I'd like to be getting on."

"I'll be keeping my eye on you," Snape says darkly. He realises that it would be impossible to prove foul play and strides out back to the ward.

She watches him go, a sour taste in her mouth.

Snape goes back to the ward, his furious expression attracting curious glances from the other students.

"I'm taking you to the other room," Snape tells Draco through gritted teeth, beginning to wheel his bed across the ward and to the private rooms. Draco stays tensed up, wary of Snape's sudden change in demeanour. None of the nurses stop Snape, assuming Madame Pomfrey authorised the move.

"What's going on?" Draco gets out once they're alone in the side room. It hurts to talk.

Snape locks the door and gets out his wand. He doesn't know whether to tell Draco of his suspicions or if that would unnecessarily worry him.

"Matron didn't clear this," he says. "I don't think she's being completely transparent with me."

He looks down at Draco, realising he's in no position to comment or even think about what he's implying.

"Regardless," he says. "I have stronger sedation potions up in my classroom, or I can adminster a standard sleeping spell if you'd prefer. The decision is yours."

Draco gazes at the door, the same door Slughorn burst in three nights ago. He desperately wants the release of sleep, but he is too scared to leave himself vulnerable.

"Will you stay?" mutters Draco, channeling the last of his energy into speaking.

"Yes, I'll stay," nods Snape.

"Can I have the sleeping spell?"

Snape starts to murmur the sleeping spell. Just as Draco starts to lose consciousness, he says "don't let him get me."

"I won't," says Snape, his voice catching in his throat. But it's too late, Draco is already asleep.

He sits in silence for a few minutes on the uncomfortable plastic chair next to Draco's bed. He notices his pronounced cheekbones and frail body- he appears to have deteriorated since last time. Have the nurses even been feeding him?

Snape decides to fetch Draco some soup from the kitchens for when he wakes up, which shouldn't be for another few hours. He feels guilty for leaving, even for ten minutes, as he promised to stay. But nothing bad could happen in ten minutes, he decides.

He returns with some chicken soup, a cushion, and a book to read. Draco is still sleeping soundly in the same spot, untouched. Snape pulls his chair against the door, settles down, and starts reading.

If Madame Pomfrey isn't going to look after him properly, he'll do it himself.

It's been twenty-four hours since Snape left Draco's bedside to get him soup, and since then he hasn't moved. Draco's spent most of the time asleep under Snape's spell, resting. In the short time he awoke, still in extreme pain, Snape managed to feed him some soup and give him a stronger healing potion.

The bell for tea rings, pulling Draco from his sleep. Snape notes that some colour has returned to his cheeks. The food must be doing him some good.

"It's just the bell," Snape says as Draco looks around blindly.

"Oh, right," says Draco. He shuffles into a comfier position.

"How do you feel?"

"A bit better," he says. It doesn't hurt to breathe, and the searing pain through his chest and arm has lessened to a dull throbbing.

"That's good," says Snape. He picks up the half-eaten bowl from the bedside table. "Have some more soup."

Draco swallows a few mouthfuls Snape feeds him. The pain and fuzziness in his head has eased enough for him to feel something other than pain: embarrassment at being spoon-fed by his teacher.

"Did you stay here the whole time?" asks Draco, lying back down.

"Yes, I did, don't worry," says Snape.

"Where did you sleep?"

"Just here," Snape says, picking up on the trace of guilt in Draco's voice. "It was fine, no trouble."

"Are you sure?"

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on the door. Snape goes over to open it.

Slughorn stands at the door.

There's a moment of silence, where Slughorn stares at Snape, Snape stares at Slughorn, then Slughorn looks at Draco lying helpless in bed behind him. Draco's heart stops when he sees that face in the doorway.

"Get the fuck out," Snape says thunderously. "And don't come back." He slams the door in his face.

Draco starts shaking uncontrollably, picturing Slughorn right behind that flimsy door. He could easily overpower Snape then do whatever he wants to him.

"Draco," says Snape, seeing all the colour drain from his face. "Look at me."

Draco bites his tongue, hard, forcing himself to look back at Snape.

"He's not coming in. I won't let him in. He's gone."

Draco swallows. "He came back," he mumbles to himself. "Why did, he did, he came? He was going to, he was- was, was going to do what he said." He squeezes his eyes shut.

Snape stares at him, alarmed. Good question: why did Slughorn come? To threaten Draco? To silence him for good?

He quickly casts a sleeping spell on Draco before his panicking overwhelms him, then opens the door. There's no one in the corridor; Slughorn is gone.

Snape stays with Draco until he's strong enough to feed himself and until most of the pain has eased. He sits on the chair, bored to death, reading and writing and marking and talking to himself and Draco for three days.

Once Madame Pomfrey realises what he's been doing, she kicks him out with no notice. Snape makes Draco promise to call him if needed and if Slughorn so much as looks at him. Draco agrees, wheeled back to the ward with a stomach full of soup, and starts the long healing process alone.