Disclaimer -
~ Yes, its mine! All mine! Nessie owns all! I own all of these characters! I also - *is dragged off by men in white coats who clap a hand over her mouth, stifling all sound*
~ *the psychiatrist returns* I apologize for that unseemly display of lies. Nessie does not own anything in the Potterverse. That distinction belongs to JK. This fic is simply something Nessie wanted to write to show her love for the Malfoys and all things Slytherin.
Understanding
Draco Malfoy, bad boy of Hogwarts, closed his eyes, willing himself to shut out The Pain. The Pain, which he capitalized in his thoughts, consisted of his father's beatings, which occurred whenever that Mudblood Granger bested him at school. He had no sooner gotten off the Hogwarts Express than his father had demanded an explanation for his inferiority. Draco, being 16, had responded sarcastically, which was a huge mistake. Lucius Malfoy was never one to stand for being mocked - especially by his son.
And that was why Draco now found himself in the current uncomfortable position of being hit with a long black belt that had a sharp and heavy metal end. He bit his lip, concentrating on not crying out. He did wince slightly as the belt struck a particularly sensitive area of his back, reopening one of the wounds that his father had inflicted upon him a few hours ago. Draco closed his eyes tighter and clenched his teeth. He had to concentrate on something else - anything else. He doesn't understand, thought Draco. But I'll show him. I'll be better because of this.
*~* Mr. Malfoy observed his son as he almost lazily brought his belt down on the boy's back. He doesn't understand, he thought. But he'll be better because of this.
Mr. Malfoy thought back to his own childhood, and his father hitting him. And where was he now? A respected (well, to his face he was anyway) and powerful member of the wizarding community. He wanted that for his son someday as well.
He'll be stronger because of this, he thought. I know he will.
THE END Haldir: Gee, folks. It would be nice if y'all would review! It'd mean the world to Nessie here, my wistful mistress. Crowd: BUT YOU'RE DEAD!! Haldir: Honestly! Peter Jackson did not create me. Last time I checked, I was created by a man named JRR Tolkien, and since he did not decide to kill me, I do believe I am still alive. Crowd: Oh, we see! REVIEW!
~ Yes, its mine! All mine! Nessie owns all! I own all of these characters! I also - *is dragged off by men in white coats who clap a hand over her mouth, stifling all sound*
~ *the psychiatrist returns* I apologize for that unseemly display of lies. Nessie does not own anything in the Potterverse. That distinction belongs to JK. This fic is simply something Nessie wanted to write to show her love for the Malfoys and all things Slytherin.
Understanding
Draco Malfoy, bad boy of Hogwarts, closed his eyes, willing himself to shut out The Pain. The Pain, which he capitalized in his thoughts, consisted of his father's beatings, which occurred whenever that Mudblood Granger bested him at school. He had no sooner gotten off the Hogwarts Express than his father had demanded an explanation for his inferiority. Draco, being 16, had responded sarcastically, which was a huge mistake. Lucius Malfoy was never one to stand for being mocked - especially by his son.
And that was why Draco now found himself in the current uncomfortable position of being hit with a long black belt that had a sharp and heavy metal end. He bit his lip, concentrating on not crying out. He did wince slightly as the belt struck a particularly sensitive area of his back, reopening one of the wounds that his father had inflicted upon him a few hours ago. Draco closed his eyes tighter and clenched his teeth. He had to concentrate on something else - anything else. He doesn't understand, thought Draco. But I'll show him. I'll be better because of this.
*~* Mr. Malfoy observed his son as he almost lazily brought his belt down on the boy's back. He doesn't understand, he thought. But he'll be better because of this.
Mr. Malfoy thought back to his own childhood, and his father hitting him. And where was he now? A respected (well, to his face he was anyway) and powerful member of the wizarding community. He wanted that for his son someday as well.
He'll be stronger because of this, he thought. I know he will.
THE END Haldir: Gee, folks. It would be nice if y'all would review! It'd mean the world to Nessie here, my wistful mistress. Crowd: BUT YOU'RE DEAD!! Haldir: Honestly! Peter Jackson did not create me. Last time I checked, I was created by a man named JRR Tolkien, and since he did not decide to kill me, I do believe I am still alive. Crowd: Oh, we see! REVIEW!