CHAPTER SIX: DENIAL

I know you think that you're safe, mister
Harmless deception that keeps love at bay
But it's the ones who resist
That we most want to kiss,
Wouldn't you say?
-George Michael-

The stay at Hogwarts turned into a nightmare easily as waving a wand.
Neville returned to his dormitory, forgetting about the remarkable hickey on his throat, and soon the word around the school went that he had a secret girlfriend. Neville's dark red blushes only confirmed the rumours.

Draco chose to struggle all the way to the dungeons, even though the hospital wing laid a lot nearer and had to be sent straight to madame Pomfrey accompanied by Snape, who really looked like he'd had enough. Despite all the pressuring questions about who had hit him, Draco refused to say a word. The only one not making even one comment, was Snape. The potion's master only gave him another detention that he was able to complete this time.

By the time Draco returned to his former self, he became a bigger menace to the Gryffindors than ever. Always in the company of his faithful companions, he held the school in a reign of terror that sent him and Harry colliding so often that the staff felt it necessary to keep them under constant surveilance.
Neville had become the target for all the worst viciousness the Slytherins could invent, partly taking over Snape's role as Neville's nemesis. But Neville had a lot of support from his house, now that he was some sort of Gryffindor hero after doing what all students only dreamed about when facing Snape's anger.
The potion lessons had changed dramatically. Snape still shot snide remarks about his results, but with a lot more carefully selected words. And Neville had won some sort of inner, unbreakable strength from confronting his great fear. He had after all survived the battle when pushed to the limit and learned something very important from seeing Snape's reaction on the way to Dumbledore. He never showed Snape any disrespect again and Snape didn't seem to make any further thing out of it.

But there was no shelter built up inside to meet the heavy blows raining from Draco each day and as for Draco, it was all he could do to drive the demon out that possessed him every morning when he woke up.
And then a game of Quidditch near Halloween happened to put everything on its edge.

Draco was soaring high above the audience, competing with Potter to reach the vily snitch this clear autumn day. Lucius was watching from a seat down there and Draco had been training like mad since he heard that his father would show up for the game. It had made him a lot of good, getting something else to think about than the constant inner torment. He heard the Slytherins cheer as he made a bold dive on his new Firebolt to block the way between Harry and the snitch, putting himself in the lead. The snitch was closing in and he could feel the flutter of its frantic little wings on his fingertips when he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye.
He was flying very close to the Gryffindor audience and Neville was sitting with the Potter fan club, when a girl beside Neville suddenly put her hand on the Gryffindor's thigh!
Draco didn't know what flew into him. Only that he saw red and had to create an accident by knocking her with his broomstick when he flew past.

This decision was to be proven fateful. Before he could reach her, he collided with Potter and sent them both flying through open air from their broomsticks. The audience made frightened sounds, which revealed to Draco that the collision had been just as nasty as he had felt it. The ground was dwindling nearer in a horrifying speed, but at the last moment, the fall was slowed down and Draco fell heavy into the sandy ground, escaping with a sprained ankle.
For one moment he caught a glimpse of Snape, standing among the Slytherins with his wand drawn. The next moment, Potter came down and crashed into Draco, landing on top of him. Draco gave him one look, as Potter tried to tangle himself free from the mess and then he flew right at his throat.
"GET OFF ME, YOU FILTHY GRYFFINDOR-ARROGANT-"
For each of the last words, Draco had his fist flying down at Potter, who reacted like an exploding powder ceg and returned the blows. People were running in their direction, but none of the brawlers made an effort to stop. They were tumbling around in the moist sand, before Professor McGonagall reached them and raised her wand.
"Separia!"
Harry and Draco flew in different directions and landed at a safe distance from each other. Draco felt a harsh grip around his arm and was lifted on his feet, but all he could think about was finding Neville in the crowd. His eyes darted furiously around, even when Snape dragged him away from the Quidditch field, followed by madame Hooch, who shot reprimands at Draco like a machine gun. Somewhere in the far background, Draco could see his father walking after them and even though he knew this outburst would mean dire consequences, all he could think about was that hand on Neville's thigh getting decapitaded with showers of blood.

The rest of the day was spent in the offices of different teachers.
First madame Hooch had a go at him, about competing spirit, bad losers and all. Then Dumbledore insisted on this serious conversation, his concerned eyes twinkling with worry for Draco's health and mind. If there was something wrong, he could confide in Dumbledore, he knew that, right?
Yeah right!
Then came the worst confrontation of them all, as Snape summoned him to the dungeons, and he just knew that his father would be there.

To his surprise, there was only Snape waiting for him, but judging from Snape's face, that was quite enough. The icy chill in the room said more than a thousand words and was a lot worse than any scolding his teacher could come up with. Draco placed himself opposite Snape's desk and waited for the blow to come.
Snape's voice was deceptively calm.
"What is it that I should do to make you understand the message, Mr Malfoy?"
Draco shuddered at the cold, heavy words and chose to look down instead of answering.
"Do you realise" Snape continued mercilessly, "that this is the third time you go against my directions concerning the entire Neville affair?"
Draco lifted his head, ready for his desperate speech of defence.
"But it had to do with Potter! He landed on me, he..."
"Silence!" Snape's gaze shot daggers. "First your blatant display in the library, then the time you turned up covered with blood, far too late to your detention..."
"But that was..."
"...and finally, you cannot release yourself from this spell you're under even for the seconds it would take you to win the cup for Slytherin!"
Draco swallowed and felt the bitterness coming to life inside.
"We're not seeing each other anymore." he said quietly.
Snape let out an impatient sigh.
"Gain control over the situation! Set your mind on your goal and attain it. Behave."
Draco felt he wasn't finished. There was noone to talk to but Snape and the words just kept coming.
"I fucked up when...well, I don't really care, but the bitch that sat beside him just provoked me as if I would CARE about what she does..."
Snape slammed his fist into the desk, startling Draco to silence.
"Enough! I have made it clear that I wish no involvement in this and speaking of the reason for that, your father wishes to see you right after I'm done with you."
Draco's lower lip started to tremble a bit. Not even Draco could stand being told off in eternity and Snape's words hit hard. And there was this searing anger waiting to be released, waiting to bring down the sword of vengeance with full force at the intruder who had laid hands on his property.
His property.
Set the goal and attain it.
Draco realised it had been done without any choice being made. No choice he knew about, but he did know that something old had been left behind forever and it became clear as Lucius entered the room and Snape left it.

Draco didn't even have to look up to meet his father's reproaching gaze of disappointment. He knew the expression all too well and set his mind on looking cold and attentive as usual. Only this time, there were things moving in the depts of his being that had come to life and threatened to reach the surface.
Lucius took a stand right in front of Draco and pierced him with a threatening and demanding stare.
"So." he said with his silkiest voice, "There must be a perfectly good explanation to your decicion on staining the family name in public."
You don't want to know, Draco thought, but out loud he said:
"Forgive me, father. But Harry insulted me as soon as we were both on the ground, involving your name."
Lucius heightened an eyebrow.
"Is that so? Why, then Potter obviously deserves a lot more than he had."
Draco drew in breath, to sigh in relief.
"Still." Lucius continued, now in a reproaching voice. "Somebody ignored the rules by which the family play."
Draco's sigh got stuck in his throat.
"You" Lucius hissed, leaning forward to intimidate Draco further, "disgraced me in front of the entire school!"
Draco didn't flinch, even though his first instinct was to do so, but lowered his eyes and kept on hearing his father's words. But he wasn't really listening anymore.
"You know perfectly well the proper behaviour of a Malfoy in public. To show such weakness, such a primitive lack of self control, giving Dumbledore arguments to..."
Draco felt his cheeks starting to get hot. Normally, he would have felt genuine regret for shaming his father, but now the heat meant that the limit was nearly reached. A new feeling sprang to life, protesting against the non-existent personal freedom of his life, mind and will. By just balancing on the borders of the forbidden, he had been yelled at the entire day, engaged most teachers of the school and was now facing penalty from his father.
All while Neville might be somewhere with this girl, kissing or worse...
"DRACO, PAY ATTENTION!"
Draco met his father's gaze for a moment and then looked to the side, as the lecture went on.
"I expect nothing less from my son. Discipline, honour, integrity. Carrying your noble name with dignity, making me proud..."
"I'm not you."
Lucius came to an immediate halt, staring at his son as if he had heard wrong.
"What was that?"
Suicide.
"I'm...not...you." Draco repeated, clenching his teeth together.
Lucius seized Draco's chin in an iron grip, his life-threathening gaze but inches from Draco's. Draco stared back defiantly, hiding his fear as much as he could. He stood on the brink to something awfully foolish, but the door back seemed locked.
"Obviously not." Lucius whispered with more venom than a deadly snake.
"Then face it!" Draco snapped. "I have my own priorities!"
"You are going to regret that."
"I can't regret the truth."
"Oh yes." Lucius said with an evil smirk, meaning he was truly furious. "You can and you will."
Lucius' fist struck so hard that Draco was sent flying into Snape's heavy desk, hurting his back before hitting the floor. The footsteps closing in told Draco that his father was far from finished. While spitting blood, he wondered what temporary insanity had gone into him, challenging the man who was practically the right hand of he-who-must not-be-named.
Lucius grabbed him by his robes and with a violent jerk, Draco was on his feet and thrown across the desk on his stomach. His wrists were held against his back, the flow of blood almost hindered by the strong grip. Draco tried coaxing himself out of it, but he knew it was doomed to fail. The first clever blow had made him lose balance and sent such shocks of pain through his head that it was hard concentrating on anything but preventing the tears.
The familiar sound of Lucius' concealed dagger leaving its cane was heard and within seconds the clasps on Draco's robes were cut off, leaving his back exposed.
Everything was done with chilling method and skill, one hand holding Draco fixed, the other set on the punishment.
His heart beating wildly, Draco wondered if this was the sort of fear Neville had felt when confronting Snape. But another part of him was furious and set on standing his ground.
Then he felt the cold edge of the thin, swift blade pointing at his neck.
"Now" Lucius said in a horrifyingly calm voice, "we'll test your convictions".
The first lash of the blade on his back was like an explosion. Draco had to gain all his strength to keep quiet.
The cold tip of the blade was at his neck again, pressing to draw blood.
"Tell me about your priorities." Another stinging whip came so fast that Draco unvoluntarily let out a loud gasp. Then more blows came raining down, destroying the inner defence built up against it.
I am not weak, it's just pain, that's all, that's all he can do...
But the tears burning in his eyes wouldn't hold and by the time the warm wetness of his own blood stained his face with each lash, he was crying out loud.
The blade hesitated for a moment and the cold voice spoke again, seemingly unmoved.
"I can't hear you. Speak up."
But Draco was gasping for breath, his face wet with tears, trying to cough up the blood that had gathered in his throat from biting his tounge. The blade fell on his back again, setting fire to his already burning skin.
"Stop!" Draco managed pressing out.
The tip regained its position at his neck.
"What are your priorities?"
"The...family." Draco gasped, ready to say anything that made the pain go away.
"And who is the head of the family?"
"You!"
"And what should you do?"
"I should show respect..." The blade sent streams of blood running down his neck. "...and honour the family traditions!"
"But you don't, do you?" Lucius' disapproving whisper was followed by one more blow than Draco could take.
Fresh tears came spilling down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, I really am!"
To his relief, his hands were free all of a sudden. Lucius took a step back and Draco fell down sitting on the floor, fighting to keep unconciousness at bay.
"Stand up."
Draco lifted his gaze to his father as if to make sure he wasn't joking. But Lucius fixed a critical stare at him, while cleaning his dagger with Draco's robe. Draco had no idea how he managed, but as soon as he was on his feet Lucius threw the robes to him.
"Get dressed."
Shivering, Draco obeyed. But the clasps were broken and he could only wrap the clothing around him, causing greater pain as the wool brushed against his back. He tried to raise his hands to wipe the tears, but moving his arms that much was too painful. Instead he remained still, feeling pathetic while Lucius sheated his dagger with a vicious smile and walked up to him. "I will not have such ungratefulness again. You take this into consideration. Without your name, you are nothing. See you at Christmas."
With these words he patted Draco's back, forcing a miserable cry out, and then he simply left the room.

Snape cursed and muttered as he tried to close the wounds on Draco's back with a blood-hemming salve. He had found Draco leaning against his desk, pale as a ghost, and the bloodstains around him spoke its own language, if the ugly mark on his jaw did not spell it out clear enough.
Not a word had been spoken as Draco was led into Snape's private quarters and placed on his couch.
"It will leave scars." Snape informed the half-unconcious student, as his treatment came to a finish. "I'll have you excused from all lessons tomorrow and for now, you will have a sleeping draught and I need to attend to my lesson."
Draco murmured very sourly from his state of delirium.
"Has my father left the school?"
Snape froze in his attempt to rise from the couch.
"You didn't put Mr Longbottom's life in danger by telling your father about him?"
"Of course not!" the tortured voice answered. "I told you, he means nothing!"
Snape shook his head in dislike. This entire Neville affair was like a soapy novel by Gilderoy Lockheart and then Lucius turned it into horror fiction for a moment, still leaving Snape with a much bigger part than he wished to play.
Making sure that Draco took the sleeping potion, Snape made his way out to the classroom while surpressing his urge to catch up with Lucius and beat him up, displaying the arrogant coward Lucius was.
As he reached his class of first years, the room laid in frightful silence even before he opened his mouth. Then Snape remembered the blood spilled over his desk and on the floor.
Oh, well.
At least it might prevent outbreaks like that of Neville's from ever occuring in this class.

The fourth year student, Lucinda Wintermoon, hurried through the corridors to the great dining hall. If she arrived in time, she might get a chance to find a seat near Neville, the cute fifth year Gryffindor that had stood up against the horrible Snape some weeks ago.
She had fallen behind her classmates as the Slytherin thugs Crabbe and Goyle had bumped into her on purpose, making her drop the books. Thankfully, Harry Potter had been around and offered a hand in picking up the books, preventing that Slytherin menace Malfoy from getting near.
Lucinda had been so releaved when Malfoy had been absent for a week, but he had returned with full force, harrassing his environment harder than ever. Her thoughts shifted to Neville and her cheeks started to glow. She had been beside him at the Quidditch match after watching him for weeks, and he had been so nice and polite that she had settled on making a first move. Unfortunately, a horrible accident had occured before he could react to the hand on his thigh, sending Neville to his feet with obvious concern for Harry.
Well, she would try again.
Miraculously, an empty seat gaped beside Neville and she sat down, convinced that it must be fate. Ron was on the other side of the table and looked up at her, frowning.
"Hey Lucinda, what's that sticking out from your pocket?"
The blonde, curly-haired girl withdrew a folded note from where Ron had pointed and opened it. As she read, her eyes grew wide.

Miss Wintermoon,

Do not try to talk to Neville, or touch him or even look at him. If you should, I'll send you to madame Pomfrey in thirteen pieces. Neville is mine. Forget about him, or I'll make you wish that He-Who-must-not-be-named had killed me while he had the chance.

Harry Potter

Harry seemed conveniently uninterested, discussing some strange dreams with Hermione, but Ron eyed her curiously.
"C'mon, what does it say? Let's hear it!"