Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot.

A/N: Hello all!! I seriously meant to get this chapter up two weekends ago, but I decided to watch Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets three times, so nothing really got done ::grins sheepishly:: Then last weekend was Easter so I was kinda busy with family and all, and then there was a death in the family this week.....But none of you care, so just go ahead and read the chapter!!!



The Pain Within
Chapter 7: Respect Lost























No reply.

Still no reply. The professor looked up to see the Gryffindor's seat next to Ron empty. Weasley, where is Potter?

The red head looked up at his teacher. He had an accident with the Tentacle Plant we were studying in Herbology this morning. It attacked him. He's been in the hospital wing ever since.

The teacher nodded and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like Smart plant before resuming the rolecall.





And Weasley is here. He marked something in his book while turning towards the Slytherins. He knew they would all be there; Slytherins never missed Potions with the Gryffindors - it was too entertaining. Just to double check, Snape did a quick head count to make sure.

Once he was finished, he did it again. And again. Each time he was one student short. He scanned the faces. A pale, smirking one was missing between the two globs of flesh that considered themselves human beings. Malfoy.

Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, where is Mr. Malfoy?

The two stared at each other, dumbfounded, and shrugged.

Don't know, Professor, Goyle said.

Snape glared at them. Why was he not surprised? Was he in your first period class?

They seemed to think about it. That was History of Magic so we were asleep, Crabbe finally remembered.

Draco wasn't in first period, Professor Snape. He usually sits right next to me, but today his seat was empty. He wasn't at breakfast either.

Professor Snape shot a grateful glance at Pansy. Thank you, Miss Parkinson. Was he in the common room at all this morning?

Pansy shook her head. Millicent Bulstrode piped in, We haven't seen him since he stormed up to his room last night at about nine thirty.

The Potion Master raised an eyebrow. He was slightly alarmed. Malfoy go to bed at nine thirty? And still be asleep? Something was terribly wrong here. Have any of you tried knocking on his door to see if maybe he just slept in?

The Slytherins all shook their heads vehemently.

Draco is not a morning person, sir. There was no way any of us were going anywhere near him, especially with the mood he's been in lately. It would be highly dangerous, Blaise informed him.

Snape rolled his eyes at them and sighed. Very well. I suppose I will go find him once I explain your assignment.

He proceeded in doing so, his worry increasing. He wasn't the kind of teacher to care about his students, but Draco was one of his best. Also being a friend of Lucius Malfoy, he visited Malfoy Manor often and watched the young boy grow up. Draco was a pretty conscientious student and rarely missed classes. His absence in Potions of all classes was a red flag for trouble.

Now, I want you to sit here and complete your work in a behaved manner. No foolish wand waving or petty arguments. Just work. If any nonsense takes place, two hundred points will be taken from both houses, irregardless of who provoked it. Do you all understand?

He pointedly stared down his house to establish that he meant what he said. All the students nodded solemnly. Good. I will be right back.

He exited the room and turned left, walking briskly towards the Slytherin common room. He recited the password (Silver venom) and entered, observing the common room. No Malfoy playing hookey down here. With an impatient growl, he climbed the stairs to Draco's room and knocked.

Mr. Malfoy, I would like to inform you that you have missed almost two of your classes.

No answer, no sound of hurried scrambling around to hide, no frantic rustling of bed covers at the information. Just dead silence.

Snape knocked again. Mr. Malfoy, this is in no way amusing.

Nothing. Absolutely no sign of life.



Again, no reply.

The greasy haired man reached out and twisted the door handle. Locked. He pulled out his wand.



He blinked when the lock did nothing. He smirked; the boy was not stupid. He didn't use the normal locking spell for which all his housemates knew the counterspell. He must have used an older locking spell. Snape searched through his memory for the counterspell. He nodded once he remembered and pointed his wand.



The lock clicked and the potions teacher pushed open the door. His eyes widened. The only resemblance that came to mind as he surveyed the room was the result of a tornado. A very violent tornado. Shards of glass littered the floor under Draco's bureau mingled with what can be assumed was blood. Walking further into the room, he saw books, quills, and pieces of paper scattered around. Dried ink stained a small section of the wardrobe door and an extinguished candle lay in a puddle of hardened wax. The bed curtains were torn and through the gaps Snape concluded that Draco was not occupying the bed. Then where the hell is he?

The question was answered once Snape came around the other side of the bed. He momentarily froze at the sight. There slumped in a corner was a very pale and seemingly lifeless Draco Malfoy. Except he wasn't only pale. He had bruises and cuts dotting his face and arms that were almost as numerous as Weasley's freckles. The lower portion of his left arm was coated in dry blood and his black pants had minuscule rips in them. Snape stared before finally taking action. He rushed over and grabbed Draco's wrist, checking for a pulse. His skin was ice cold and Snape was having trouble finding a pulse. He gently dropped Draco's wrist and reached for his neck. Relief flooded through him as he detected a faint pulse and saw the almost imperceptible rise and fall of Draco's chest. Now that he was closer he was astonished to see streaks of dried tears lining the youth's cheeks. He also noticed that a majority of the cuts and bruises were faded; just scars, scabs, and vague traces of what must have been large bruises. Deciding that Draco did not have enough time for him to go seek help, Snape scooped the teenager up. His head rolled back so Snape shifted him, discovering that he was surprisingly light for his height and long hours of Quidditch training. He edged around the bed and waded through the glass slowly and then quickly left the room heading straight for the infirmary. Being a Quidditch player himself in his day, the Potions professor made it in record time without becoming winded at all. He kicked open the door and stormed down the aisle of empty beds. Madam Pomfrey's voice reached his ears from one of the end beds.

Now, dear, just a few more hours. You can go back at dinner. Until then you need to rest. Those tentacle plants contain sometimes fatal poison. You are very lucky to-

barked a voice at the edge of the bed.

She turned with hands on her hips and glared at the intruder. Severus Snape! By now you should know better than - She caught sight of the boy in her fellow teacher's arms. Oh, oh my! Put him down immediately! Quick, into a bed! I'll go fetch a few instruments and medicines.

Snape whirled around and laid Draco gently into the bed across from Harry Potter, who stared in shocked horror at his nemesis's bloody and bruised body. Snape just glared at him. Madam Pomfrey returned with a few vials and various medical tools. She pulled the curtain closed and started bustling around, her equipment jangling and clanking.

Oh, Merlin, he's barely breathing! You've brought him to me in the nick of time, Severus, she said.

That's what I figured, Snape told her while examining Draco's many bruises and wondering how they got there.

Do you know what happened? Look at this arm, cut up like that! And these fading bruises are all over his body, she observed as she lifted up his shirt and one pant leg. She began cleaning and then applying special creams to his raw cuts. These cuts are so deep. The poor dear looks like he was attacked, she murmured.

I don't think he was attacked, Poppy, Severus told her morosely. I think he did it to himself.

The bustling and clambering around stopped. What? You don't think he's, oh my. I would have never thought, with his father spoon feeding him everything and all.

I'm not sure of anything yet. Now that he really thought about it though, Snape could see why a child would be suicidal with Lucius Malfoy as a father. He had always given Draco the most expensive and most recent material objects the boy could possibly want because he believed his son should have the best. He had to be the best and nothing less. It wouldn't be acceptable for a Pureblooded wizard to be anything short of perfect. With Granger around to contend with academically and Potter's competition on the Quidditch field, it was difficult for Draco to be number one. And Severus was sure that didn't go over well with Lucius.

Although, Poppy, I am quite certain that those bruises and scars were not some kind of self-destruction. There is no way he could have possibly punched himself in the eye to form that bruise, or reach behind him to cut his lower back like that, Snape said while the mediwitch delicately turned the boy over for better access to his left arm.

She paused to throw him a confused glance upward. But who then? Surely Albus would know if any bullying took place here at Hogwarts.

Was being second best such an offense to Lucius Malfoy that he would physically take it out on his son? Snape thought about it before narrowing his eyes and speaking in a low voice.

Trust me, it did not take place here at school.

The implication of his words silenced the mediwitch as she continued healing Draco. Well I am sure that Mr. Malfoy is in safe hands here Poppy, so I must return to my classroom. Can't leave the Slytherins and Gryffindors in a classroom by themselves for too long. Childish rivalry.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. Mm-hm. He'll be good as new in no time Severus. You will speak with the Headmaster?

Snape nodded. Yes. Once Draco is in the condition to answer, we will question him. I want to speak with him before we notify his parents. Good day.

He took one last look at the marred body of Draco Malfoy. The many bruises and cuts made him look frail and weak. His body gave no indication of life except for the subtle breathing that was beginning to gain some speed, thanks to Madam Pomfrey's administrations. His face was ghost white and his mouth was, for once, not twisted into a smirk. Which, Snape figured, was only a cover up anyway; an attempt to please his father. His mind reeled with the possibilities of what Draco might encounter at home. And suddenly, any respect Severus Snape held for Lucius Malfoy was lost.

~~~

Draco awoke several hours later to find himself in a very uncomfortable bed and his left arm very stiff. Glancing down he realized he was in a hospital bed and his arm firmly wrapped in thick bandages. He winced at the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. A groan escaped his lips as he turned over onto his right side to avoid the light. His entire body ached in the process, the need to remember the cause temporarily forgotten by Draco as he tried to reduce the amount of pain by moving slower. His shins and knees felt like they had been pierced by a thousand nails and it felt like he had gotten a million paper cuts on his hands. He shifted his bulky bandaged arm so it rested as comfortably as it could on his chest. Which wasn't very comfortable.

Seriously, why must they make bandages so bloody thick? he asked himself. A few other curses and nonsensical pointless questions that one asks when annoyed that the world isn't cooperating entered his mind before something clicked and his eyes popped open. Who cares about the damn bandage, why was his arm bandaged? How did he get to the hospital wing? Why did his body hurt so much? Shouldn't he be in Potions right now? Why was he in the hospital wing to begin with?

What the bloody hell happened?

That is what we would like to know, Mr. Malfoy, a voice said from behind him.

Draco froze. The previous night's rampage came flooding back into his memory. The sequence of events that must have transpired after he passed out arranged themselves in a logical order in Draco's brain.

Oh. Shit.





~~~
I am really really pleased with this chapter, even though I had to start certain parts over a couple of times. Wow, Snape's a smart cookie; he practically figured out what goes on at Malfoy Manor. He just needs confirmation of his suspicions...But will Draco prove him right, or deny it?? ::dun dun dun:: And before you ask, there will be no Snape/Draco romance, nor will there be any Harry/Draco romance...there will be NO ROMANCE in this at all. Please, please REVIEW! I would simply explode with excitement if I got over 100 reviews.....

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE REVIEWS FROM LAST CHAPTER. YOU ALL ROCK! NOW JUST DO IT AGAIN :)