Disclaimer: I am really getting tired of copying and pasting this thing, lol. But, tis necessary. So, everything here belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling, I own nothing but the plot (and any Slytherin Quidditch players I made up because I didn't know the real ones' names).

A/N: Vacation was alright. I've seen enough rocks and desert to last me a life time. And it was wayyyy too hot. How do Arizonans and Utahans (the spell check said that's how you spell it, lol) live out there?? Las Vegas was cool though. As you probably can guess, this story won't be finished before school starts (2 days ::tear::). Oh well, look at it this way: it gives you something to look forward to after doing pointless homework :) And the reviews give me something to look forward to ::hint hint::

Fain Oakenbringer: Nope, I haven't read The Wizard Of Earthsea, what's it about? Thanks for the review!!

Sinister Papaya Fondue: I'm so glad you like this!! I know it started out cliche-ish, but not because I wasn't serious, but because I had no idea where I was going with it, lol. I just jumped head first into writing it, and didn't really plan much, lol. Thanks for the review!!

To all the rest of you wonderful people who review: Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

The Loozer (haha, cool name!) was the only person to correctly guess the author with the initials BC: Beverly Cleary. Who doesn't love Ramona, and Socks, and Ralph S. Mouse.....

*** indicates a flashback beginning and ending.

The Pain Within
Chapter 16: Returns and Reflexes (R&R - like Read & Review!!)

Pain. That's the only thing Draco felt as he limped along the corridor of the Hogwarts Express seeking Crabbe and Goyle on January fifth. Every muscle ached, it hurt to breathe, and every joint screamed in protest as he barged into compartments in search of the gorillas. He scowled and sneered at the students when he found no Crabbe and Goyle. At one point he burst into Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville's compartment, but just glared and left. He couldn't be bothered thinking of rude comments to fling at them - it would take too much energy, an entity he was lacking at the moment. Besides, he figured his jaw was probably broken, so he didn't want to overuse it.

Needless to say, Lucius had apparated home early on January first in a maniacal rage. And so began Draco's four days in pure hell.

***

Draco was lounging on his bed, lazily tossing a snitch back and forth between his hands when the door banged open. He frowned; his mother was having tea with Mrs. Parkinson and he ordered the house elves to leave him alone. Shaking his head in disgust at the foolish creatures, he put the snitch down.

I believe I said I was to be left alone, he said, irritated. This better be important, you stupid good-for-nothing -

He was cut off by his bed curtains being yanked open and a sharp blow to the stomach. His eyes widened.

he gasped. I thought - I thought you were a house elf coming to, gasp, bother me.

Well you thought wrong, his father sneered. Get up.

Draco hastened into a sitting position under his father's cold gaze.

He looked up meekly. How did the business trip go?

Lucius' expression heated in fury and rage, and only then did Draco notice the bloodshot color of his eyes. How did it go? HOW DID IT GO? IT WENT BLOODY FUCKING WRONG, THAT'S HOW IT WENT! AURORS WERE THERE, DRESSED AS FUCKING NORMAL PEOPLE, BLOODY WAITING FOR US! WE HAD TO APPARATE IMMEDIATELY AND THE BLOODY AURORS CAUGHT TWO OF OUR MEN.

Draco feigned a look of combined horror and outrage to cover the triumphant smile that tried to worm its way onto his face, all the while trying to quell the qualms of dread in his stomach. Under the influence of alcohol Lucius could manage his speech quite well, but had no control over his physical strength.

What?!? How? From the way you, Aunt Bellatrix, and Uncle Donovan spoke, it was a foolproof plan!

Of course it was, Lucius stated arrogantly. And no one knew of it except for those involved. He paused, drunkenly scratching his chin. Oh, and you.

It took all of Draco's willpower not to widen his eyes in panic. Yes, I knew you were going on a business trip for the Lord, but had no details on the affair, he said calmly. His father seemed to register that fact, but still stared accusingly at his son.

Draco inhaled deeply. Besides, even if I did, why would I spoil our Lord's plan? I want him to gain his power back as much as you do, he said, with a bit too much attitude once he realized that it was the alcohol talking, and not truly his father.

Lucius continued staring at him - a cold, hard, calculating look - before punching him square in the jaw. Draco fell back on his bed in pain, certain his jaw had broken. Before his father could grab him, he hoisted his legs on top of the bed and flung himself over the opposite side from where his father stood. Unfortunately he didn't land on his feet, which cost him valuable running time, and his shoulder soon collided with his father's shoe. Draco felt himself being lifted and shoved into the closest wall.

Don't speak to me in that tone bitch, his father's beer tinged breath hissed in his face. And don't you dare ever compare yourself to me. You are nothing compared to me, he said, closing his hands around Draco's neck. You hear that? You are nothing.

Draco now remembered why he never struggled against Lucius, for it led to dangerous situations like this.

Nothing but a worthless piece of shit. Mm-hm, yes.

Draco gasped for breath.

Yes, yes. That is what you are.

Draco felt himself becoming lightheaded. He did the only things his quickly clouding mind could think of.

You son of a bitch! Lucius croaked as he doubled over clutching his crotch. Draco sagged against the wall, greedily gulping in air. He should have made a mad dash for the door, but never had the chance.

All he remembered after that was opening his eyes to find house elves administering to various wounds and bruises, and it wasn't the last time he would awake to that. Each day morphed into a repetition of the previous: Lucius would get drunk off his arse and insult and beat the crap out of Draco, who would then awake to the care of the house elves. Problem was, it was becoming more difficult for the house elves to tend to his injuries, seeing as they became progressively worse. Draco was flung into a glass cabinet, pushed down stairs, and had many objects hurled at him at top speeds - most of which he rarely had time to catch before they struck him. All in all, it was a terrible end to an otherwise peaceful Christmas break.

***

Draco wearily sank down into the plush seat of the Hogwarts Express. He had finally found Crabbe and Goyle in one of the last train compartments stuffing their faces with at least ten galleons worth of pastries and candies. He gave them a disgusted glare and they were smart enough to devour their food in silence. Not like they provided interesting conversation anyway.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. He should have expected his father's behavior. He should always expect abusive behavior from his father - he didn't understand why he still felt a shock at the first punch or kick. Countless times, when he thought he had actually pleased his father enough not to be struck, he still received quite a beating. Lucius' behavior should be a normal routine for him, yet his brain just couldn't accept it. Maybe his heart just didn't want to.

Whenever anything, especially a plan of Voldemort's, didn't run smoothly, Lucius targeted his anger at Draco or his mother. This time, Draco had been the victim. At least he had really done something, even if his father didn't know that. Nor would he ever find out. His mother never deserved it, at all, not ever.

Draco shifted his position and winced. Lucius had been brutal. Not just physically, but verbally too. Draco tried to ignore the comments he had been dealt. He wished he could just pass it off as the alcohol, but the sad truth was, the remarks were meant whether Lucius was drunk or not. Draco tried to pushed them away and boost his confidence by telling himself he was the better person, he would come out on top, but the insults shouted louder than the words of comfort.

You're worthless...Nothing but a failure...You don't deserve the Malfoy name...You're a little piece of shit...A mistake from the beginning...You disgust me...You're nothing but a worthless failure...A worthless failure...A worthless failure...Worthless failure...Failure.......

Draco? Draco?

he snapped at Crabbe.

We're here.

~~~

A week later, Draco was steadily getting better. Now that he was back at school with Snape's potion supplies in easy reach, he was able to brew antidotes and balms for his sores and bruises. At the Manor, he didn't have time in between being beat and unconscious.

One night he was awake brewing a Strengthening Potion (so he wouldn't collapse in the middle of a class), a Bruisewort Balm (to keep the swelling of all bruises to a minimum), an Anti-Ache Potion (a pain reliever), and his usual Concealment Potion since he was running low. While the various potions simmered, boiled, and bubbled, Draco leafed through his potions book. He thought a Wakeful Potion might be useful, because although the Strengthening Potion rejuvenated his energy, it didn't battle mental exhaustion. Checking the ingredients, he realized he needed crushed boar tusk, an ingredient the students weren't required to purchase. Sighing, the blond slowly stood up and prepared to raid Snape's cabinet.

He wished he still had Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Earlier that week, he had send his owl to Gryffindor Tower late at night with a package containing the cloak and a note of thanks. Harry had nodded at him during Care of Magical Creatures to indicate he'd received the garment.

As he tramped down the corridor leading to Snape's classroom, he silently scoffed at all non-Slytherin students. He had overheard those who were daring enough to sneak around after hours saying that once Filch's cat saw you, you were a goner. Draco smirked; Slytherins never had that problem - Filch nor his damn cat rarely ventured into the dungeons. Approaching the correct classroom, he quietly said and headed directly to the potions cabinet.

..essence of belladonna..bezoar..bicorn horn..Billywing stings..black beetle eyes..poisonous yellow beetle eyes..boomslang skin..bubotubor pus...where the hell is it?

Draco quickly skimmed the other shelves in the cabinet in case some stupid student never learned to alphabetize. No such luck. Draco cursed under his breath and crept over to the other cabinet in the room. This one contained potions or ingredients the students never dealt with themselves but Professor Snape kept for explanation and display purposes. There was an ordinary muggle combination lock on the cabinet, but Draco was no fool - it was only there to intimidate thieves. But Draco didn't consider himself a thief - in his mind, he believed he had a justifiable reason to be borrowing potions ingredients, of which, he grimaced, Snape had seen proof of. He whispered the old unlocking spell, , and watched as the combination undid itself. He chuckled. Snape wasn't going to be able to keep him out of his cabinets.

he murmured to himself as he read all the labels in search of boar tusk.

Here we go. Well, we have: Boar Tusk (Fine), Boar Tusk (Liquidated), or Boar Tusk (Crushed). Perfect, already crushed, he whispered to himself. Taking a vial out of his robe pocket, he carefully poured the necessary amount of crushed boar tusk and then cleaned up. On his way out, he repocketed the vial and slipped noiselessly out of the classroom to return to his laboratory'. He failed to notice the looming figure hiding in the shadows of the classroom.


The combination of the potions restored the blond to the Draco Malfoy everyone knew and hated. He insulted Gryffindors with new vigor, bullied Hufflepuffs with renewed energy, scorned Ravenclaws with more spite, and acted like the miniature Lucius that people saw him as. The comparison angered him as much as it had angered his drunk father days ago, but for entirely different reasons. Draco wanted nothing to do with the man, not after the pain he endured on behalf of him, and wanted nothing to be like him either. The sixteen year-old couldn't do anything but spy behind his father's back for the time being, but he knew that someday, the man would get what was coming to him. Someday, the man would feel as helpless as Draco did. And there would be nothing he could do about it.

~~~

Zabini, you, as Keeper, have to keep the bloody ball out of the hoops, Draco yelled, irritated, at his teammate. Otherwise, we lose. And I refuse to lose to Hufflepuff of all teams. Oh, and Crabbe, Goyle you're bloody brick walls - hit the damn bludgers harder, he shouted. Looking down, he added, Nice speed, Pucey. Aim is great too. Just watch your passes - they're a bit slow.

The fourth year floating below him, Adam Pucey (younger brother of Draco's former teammate Adrian), grinned and nodded.

Now will the rest of you start playing the game?

Kyle Cliffe, a fifth year Chaser, said, it's 20 degrees out, we're cold and tired, give us a freakin' break. Just because we don't have the energy you have all of a sudden, doesn't mean you should insult us. I mean, we've been practicing for two hours already. Two hours in this weather.

And we haven't eaten for three, Goyle added wistfully.

Besides, it's only Hufflepuff, Malfoy. We're bound to win, Clarisse DuPont, a seventh year chaser, and one of the very few girls to ever make the Slytherin Quidditch team, reasoned.

Draco glanced around at the rest of his team. They all had identical red-nosed glares directed at him. He threw his hands up.

Oh, I bloody give up. Go in, you pansies. But I swear to Merlin, if the score is not sky high tomorrow, I will kill the lot of you, he called as he crossly dove toward the ground.

Truth was, he too knew they would win. He just wanted to continue flying for as long as possible. The air whipping past his face at sixty miles per hour numbed him to the bone, and from any pain or anger he was feeling. The sensation of flying always made his burden feel lighter, if only for a few hours. He ushered the team inside once they landed.

Go on, I'll clean up myself. Just get out of my face.

His teammates shrugged and obeyed. No one liked to disagree or challenge a pissed Draco Malfoy.

He caught the still whizzing around bludgers and snitch and, along with the Quaffle, placed each in their proper place and slammed the chest shut. He levitated the chest, extra broomsticks, and the other practice equipment and, throwing his own broom over his shoulder, trudged through the snow covered Quidditch pitch to the Slytherin locker room. Once he was finished he headed straight for his dormitory.

He collapsed on top of his bed. Even he had to admit, it was cold out there. It took quite a few minutes for him to warm up. He could feel aches and pains seeping into his body as the Anti-Ache potion was starting to wear off. Well, he reasoned, it is over twelve hours that I last took it. Hell, they should all be wearing off soon. Exhaustion would be hitting him any time now.

Instead of exhaustion, something else hit him.

The dueling meeting! he gasped. Starts at 8:00!

He rolled over to check his clock.

Shit, I have to be there in three minutes.

When he was younger, his father had hired a professional duelist to teach him how to correctly duel, but he still had to be at the meeting that night. The fastest getting ready Draco ever participated in ensued. He took a shower, threw on clothes, gulped down a bunch of potions, grabbed his wand, and shot out the door. He didn't even bother looking for a robe. He quietly snuck down to Snape's office and as soon as he stepped through the tap door, he sprinted toward the room where he and the Gryffindors would be instructed on how to properly duel by Snape and Lupin. All of that done in fifteen minutes flat.

So, quite expectantly, the sight that hurtled through the door six seconds later shocked the room's occupants. Draco walked over and slumped into a seat next to Ron and began muttering spells. His shoes tied, the buttons on his shirt buttoned, his hair dried, and his belt buckled. He leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling.

he apologized. Quidditch ran late and then I sort of forgot about the meeting tonight.

He heard someone snort and say something that sounded like some teacher'.

Draco, you are the captain of Slytherin's team - thereby, you have the authority to end practice whenever you feel, and on meeting nights, I expect you to end it early enough so you will be able to arrive here on time, Snape berated.

Draco lifted his head and nodded, well aware that Ron was grinning like a maniac at Draco being scolded. Yes sir.

And these meetings are too important for you to sort of forget'. Show a little more responsibility, will you? Snape said as he turned to face all the students once again. Weasley, stop that foolish smiling. I'm sure you've seen something more amusing than Draco Malfoy getting reprimanded.

Ron dropped the smile and glared at Snape, joined by Draco.

I know they're important, sir. I was just tired, that's all, he lied not wanting to go into detail about the team's practice that day.

Snape stared incredulously at Draco and raised a greasy eyebrow. Were you? he asked rhetorically.

Draco blinked. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Snape worsened his already bad mood. Snape could be a real Jekyll and Hyde at times. Sometimes he seemed like he really wanted to help Draco and sometimes he just liked to be a pain in the arse. Draco shook his head and focused on what Remus was saying.

Like Severus said before, sharp reflexes play a key role in dueling. Tonight that's all we'll be working on. We'll pair you up, and you and your partner will just practice hitting each other with simple charms and hexes. Just don't use the Disarming Spell, as it will defeat the purpose of this exercise. Try to be as quick as possible with a hex after you get hit. After about twenty minutes, you'll switch partners.

Each pair was to be sent to separate corners in the room so no one would get hit unexpectedly by spells that went awry. As luck would have it, Draco was partnered with his favorite Weasley first. The two glared at each other and Ron smirked.

Now, I can repay you for waking me so damn early on Christmas morning. And I can't get detention for it.

Draco grinned. I suppose you could try.

Immediately after the words left his mouth, he was hit with the Jelly-Legs Jinx. He retaliated by sending the Pepper Breath Hex Ron's way. Although Ron's eyes watered tremendously from the hot taste in his mouth, he managed to point his wand and croak a spell, and then Draco was sending hexes from the floor where he was laughing hysterically from the Tickling Charm. By the time Snape yelled , Ron was covered in fur and his knees were reversed, while Draco's teeth were enlarged and he was still laughing. Snape ordered everyone to undo their hexing.

Finite incantatum, Ron muttered and Draco finally stopped laughing and his teeth returned to normal size.

My stomach, he moaned and then removed all of his hexes on Ron. He had to admit, the red head already had good reflexes - the two had shot spells at each other quite steadily - he just needed to learn more spells. He glanced around at the other two pairs. Hermione was demanding that Fred, who had leeks spilling out of blue ears, undo his charm, seeing as she was wearing a skirt for Merlin's sake!!. He only continued to laugh at her predicament. Finally Lupin released her from the Hover Charm. In another corner, George was covered in bright purple boils and had scales, while a bright yellow canary sat where Harry should have been. George swished his wand at the bird and it transformed back into (a very pissed) Harry Potter.

Draco teamed up with Musketeer number two next. She smiled sweetly before shooting golden bubbles out of her wand that obscured his vision. He blindly pointed his wand and hoped his Twitchy Ears Hex hit her. They battled on and at the end, Draco was firing hexes from the air where Hermione's Hover Charm had placed him. She had used a variety of spells, but her reflexes needed work.

Draco smirked at his last partner for the night, whom he had a feeling would be his most challenging competitor. Harry grinned.

This seems familiar.

Draco chuckled. I think, for better practice, and, old time's sake, we should pretend we hate each other with a passion again and just enjoy hexing the crap out of each other.

The Gryffindor thought about it. Sounds like fun, he smirked, Malfoy. No snakes this time though - or I'll sic it on you.

You're on Potter.

And with that, a string of hexes passed between the two. About half-way through, they even journeyed out of their corner's boundaries in attempts to duck the oncoming spells. A hairy Fred, long-nailed Ron, bald George, and hiccuping Hermione all stopped their own hexing to watch the now pink-haired Harry and pig-noised Draco's moving battle. Snape and Lupin didn't even try to cease the duel, for they too were watching in interest. It was like a sword fight, and neither was willing to back down.



Harry's legs danced on their own accord and he wobbled into Remus.



Fiery sparks blinded Draco as he ducked around Fred.



Hearty laughs escaped Harry's mouth as he tried to still his legs and clutch his stomach.

Locomotor mortis!

Draco's legs locked together and he hopped backwards in order to move.





Everti Stratum!

The hexing finally ended when a buck-toothed Harry was blasted into a wall and the grinning boil-covered Draco tripped and toppled backwards over a chair. Lupin chuckled at the boys, no sullen look was apparent on Snape's face, and Fred, George, Hermione, and Ron clapped. Both boys sat up from their landing positions, rubbing aching backs, hips, ribs, arms, shoulders, legs, and anything else that hurt at the moment.

Bloody hell, they groaned simultaneously.









~*~*~
Hehehehehehehe, I love those two. I can't tell ya when the next chapter will be up, but I'll say sometime before my birthday (September 14) to be safe in case teachers decide to be assholes and load on the homework. But here's the preview:

***Next chapter: More dueling...Snape tricks Draco...A confrontation about Draco's ploy to get the Death Eaters to speak...***