Greetings from down under! I'm on holiday south of the equator, and having fun finishing up this story. I meant this to be the last chapter, but it was just getting so long that I decided to post what I had and will finish it up with one last chapter. Hope you enjoy!
"Come in, young Severus," Draco greeting the child. "I have some tea waiting for us."
"Why exactly am I here again?" Severus asked, suspicious.
""I'm sure it's been explained to you," Draco drawled, picking up a cup. "How do you take your tea?"
"With sugar and milk," Severus tells him. "And it doesn't make sense."
"Your older self mentored me as a child," Draco told him. "And your new parents thought it might be good for you to have some influence from a person who might be, well, more like you."
"I'm not some sort of blonde pansy," Severus sneered, taking the tea.
"I think you may be under the delusion that you can speak disrespectfully to me without consequence," Draco told him in a calm, aristocratic voice. "Let me assure you that this is not the case."
"My Dad said that nobody is allowed to use that spell on me again," Severus told him, his eyes narrowing. "Or to hurt me in any way."
"As if corporal punishment were my only option," Draco scoffed. "I see it as rather unimaginative, really. That nanny was so bent on pettiness that her revenge lacked scope."
"Revenge?" Severus gulped. "Scope?"
"We are Slytherins, you and I," Draco told him. "We are not intimidated by a good plan. Miss Stradling's plan for revenge was simply not good; it was short sighted, obvious and if Ginny had been such a merciful Gryffindor could have ended much worse for her than it did."
"So you're disappointed that she didn't do a better job of torturing me?" Severus asked with incredulity.
"She let her passions blind her," Draco told him. "She did in school as well. Many Slytherins got a whack or two with that spell in school - it was not uncommon. Professor Snape saw it as a quick, sharp correction to send a firm message. But Miss Stradling took an impersonal punishment very seriously."
"Did you get it in school?" Severus asked.
"Of course I did," Draco answered, smiling with amusement. "It took me a while to master my emotions and my mouth, to be honest. But I could probably count the times on one hand."
"I've had that many this week," Severus answered."I know," Draco answered him seriously. "Which is why I was going to put a stop to it."
"Did you?" Severus asked, his tea forgotten. "How did Ginny know to spy on us?"
"I was laying the groundwork," Draco explained. "I had wanted to give ideas of childcare and raising first, so when the information came it would be less shocking. My guess is that Molly guessed something was wrong; she didn't like that woman. And Ginny is the kind of person that wouldn't let it rest - and I could see her borrowing the cloak and seeing for herself."
"So if I now have a mother and a father just like a normal boy, why am I here talking with you?" Severus asked, his eyes narrowing. "Seems like I already have the batty uncle as well."
"You do at that," Draco agreed, impressed with the child's reasoning. "But I think that nest of Gryffindors that are raising you recognize that you may be a bit . . . different than they are at a fundamental level. Not even George Weasley, as much as Professor Snape had learned to rely on him, is really suitable for the job that I have been called on to perform."
"And what is that?" Severus asked impudently.
"We will begin by you addressing me as 'sir,'" Draco told him mildly. "There has been entirely too much cheek and disrespect in this conversation already."
"You are batty," Severus answered him. "What makes you think I will call you sir?"
"Are you really going to be so tiresome as to make me spell this out for you?" Draco sighed. "You have really been around those Gryffindors too much for your own good already. You will call me sir because it's a sign of basic respect, and it shows that you are the student and I am the teacher and you are receptive to learning. And you call me sir because until you do I will not mentor or teach you."
"And what do you have to teach me?" Severus asked, his voice a shade less impudent.
Draco pulled the wand from his robe, ignoring with tact the fact that Severus flinched. He knew Miss Stradling well enough that she would have used force to get her student to use an honorific with her, and of course Draco would never do such a thing. It was ineffective, if nothing else. If a student was to be receptive they had to voluntarily recognize the teacher, not be forced into it. But he was also not going to let Severus off either, Severus had to learn to show respect to him.
Ignoring the flinch the implied fear of a punishment, Draco summoned a book from the shelf, and he flipped to a page. "Some people believe your house affiliation is a matter of destiny and family, the same as your eye color. Some people believe it is a matter of choice and character. But I believe it is a matter of destiny. Do you know how many ministers of magic have been Gryffindors?"
"How many?"
"Let's just say very few," Draco answered. "There have been two in the last three centuries, to be exact. Leadership doesn't come as naturally to the Gryffindors, except for some inexplicable reason, at Hogwarts. But even there Dumbledore is somewhat of an anomaly. There have been more Hufflepuffs than Gryffindors, for some reason. Ravenclaws outnumber the Hufflepuffs, of course, but by far the most ministers of magic have been Slytherins."
"Were they all evil?" Severus asked impudently.
"Of course not," Draco answered patiently. "Some, of course, were. Voldemort of course put quite a stain on our reputation. The fact that during the final battle Professor McGonagall felt it necessary to lock up the students in Slytherin so they wouldn't have to decide whether to fight with their classmates or with their parents was necessary but heartbreaking. But I work for the Ministry, with Minister Shacklebolt, and one of the main things that I am doing is trying to bring unity to this part of our world. Slytherin isn't evil; wizards from each house followed Voldemort. But we do have a lot to answer for, and that repair work is a large part of the job that I do."
"What house is Shacklebolt from?"
"Minister Shacklebolt," Draco corrected him.
"Minister Shacklebolt," Severus conceded.
"I believe he was a Ravenclaw," Draco answered.
"So you are going to teach me to be the Minister of Magic?" Severus asked.
"You misunderstand," Draco answered. "What I am trying to tell you is that Slytherins are ambitious, and being raised by a nest of Gryffidors that is likely to go unchecked. I am the person that will not only recognize and train that part of you, but also check you when needed."
Severus looked him up and down, and Draco gazed firmly back.
"And if I refuse?" Severus asked.
"You won't," Draco answered. "Because you know, deep down, how much you need what I have to teach. And if you refuse, you will regret it. It's a lot easier now, to call me sir and accept what I have, then to have to come crawling back in a year and admit you were wrong all along. You are smart enough to see that."
"Mr. Malfoy?" Severus tested.
"In addition to 'sir' that would be appropriate," Draco confirmed.
"So what, I come here and see you and you make sure I don't turn into Voldemort?" he asked impudently.
"Something like that," Draco told him. "We spend a few hours a week together, and I school you on related topics, especially those related to leadership, power and ethics. I am your mentor, and under my tutelage we will discuss the issues that tore Slytherin apart in the last war, and how to put it together again."
"I suppose that might be interesting," Severus admitted.
"Then you have a choice to make," Draco told him, folding his hands elegantly before him and placing them on his lap. "You can apologize for your cheek, call me sir, and we can get started. Or you can take the floo back to Molly Weasley and spend the afternoon with her."
Severus considered, his eyes narrowing. "I have nothing to apologize for."
Sighing, Draco looked away. "Off you go then."
Severus sat there, unbelieving, thinking that Draco would try to convince him.
"I am a busy man with much to do," Draco told him firmly. "I have taken time out of my day, but if that time is not appreciated by a bratty child, then I will go back to work. Are you incapable of using the floo by yourself? Should I call your father to come pick you up? Or perhaps an uncle?"
"I'm sorry or whatever," Severus mumbled.
"Obviously not if that's the way you address me," Draco quipped. "You can go home until you are."
With that, Severus found himself firmly gripped by the hand, and then sucked into a side-along apparition with Draco. Before he could catch his breath, he was in Molly's kitchen, and then Draco disappeared.
"Hello Severus," Molly greeted him. "So the meeting didn't go too well?"
"What was that?" he asked, flummoxed.
"Draco said there was a good chance you'd be back soon, and he'd deliver you by apparition if you were stubborn," she laughed. "Looks like he'd pegged you. Get started on your schoolwork?"
"I apologized to the git!" Severus protested.
"Um, not well if that's how it went," Molly laughed at him. "Why don't you take some time and calm down. Maybe I can owl him and see if we can go visit later this afternoon."
Severus did not, however, calm down. He went back home, ate dinner, and was still stewing about that awful Draco Malfoy. What had he wanted from him?
"How did your meeting with Draco go today?" Harry asked him, seeing him pick at his roasted potatoes.
"He's an odd man," Severus admitted. "He's not like anybody else."
"Do you want him to teach you?" Ginny asked, concerned. "You don't have to, you know. Or you could always do it later."
"I don't know," Severus admitted. "He's, well, he's odd."
"In what way?" Harry asked.
"He's not like the governess," Severus assured him. "But I can't seem to guess what he's thinking. But he said he won't teach me unless I call him 'sir' and apologize for my cheek, as if I want him to teach me!"
"Do you?" Ron asked, curiously.
"I don't know," Severus answered honestly. "He's at least different from you lot."
Harry, concerned at his flummoxed son, slipped out for a few minutes after dinner and floo'ed over to Draco's house.
"Hello, Harry," Draco welcomed him. "You're later than I expected you."
"You expected me?" he asked, surprised.
"Of course," Draco sighed. "I threw out your son without so much as an explanation, and he's probably stewing on it now. It makes logical sense that you would want to know if I know what I'm doing."
"So do you?" Harry asked him.
"I do," Draco replied with more confidence than he felt. "Let me do my business."
"And what business is that?" Harry asked.
"Getting a Slytherin to comply," Draco smirked. "Snape knew that; he knew that brute force didn't go anywhere. Miss Stradling did not. I'm not going to be able to teach that child anything unless he respects me, and he has to choose to do that."
"And here I thought Professor Snape brooked no disobedience," Harry told him, realizing something for the first time on how Slytherin worked.
"Sit down and have a drink," Draco invited. "I have some firewhisky that won't quite burn a hole in your stomach. In order for me to be able to teach your son anything, there's two things I need from you."
"What's that?" Harry asked, taking the glass from him.
"He needs to know he has your blessing, for one," Draco told him seriously, taking a sip of the whisky. "And he also needs to make the decision to let me teach him. It's not something I'm going to force for him, it's something the governess tried to beat him into submission. That never works on people like Severus Snape, just like it would have never worked on me. Professor Snape knew that."
"It sounds like there's a story there," Harry smiled at him.
"Have I ever told you about the time that I got you on the bloody quidditch team?"
"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape greeted him. "I see it did not take you long to earn my censure."
"It was completely Potter's fault!" the young Malfoy heir protested. "And the fact that he's made the quidditch team because of his antics . . ."
"For which he never would have done had you obeyed your professor and stayed on the ground," Professor Snape growled. "It was witnessed by too many people, Mr. Malfoy, you will not be able to alter the truth of the events."
"He was the idiot that followed me!" Draco protested.
"There is only one thing to discuss, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape told him. "You need to decide whether or not you are going to respect the rules of this school and myself as your head of house, or whether or not I'm going to send you home."
"Send me home, sir?" Draco asked, a bit taken aback.
"The professor in charge said you would be out of Hogwarts if you flew, and you did it," Professor Snape explained carefully. "By rights you're out. However, since mercy has been granted to the other miscreant, mercy will be granted to you if you submit yourself to my discipline. But your choosing it is your choosing to stop the arrogant behavior and put yourself under my authority."
"What do I have to do, sir?" Draco asked, calculating.
"You will apologize for bringing shame to Slytherin, and you will bend over the desk to receive your due."
"And what would my due be, sir?" Draco asked, though he knew he would most likely do whatever Snape told him to do. His head of house was far less frightening than his father.
"I believe the point is that you submit yourself to me," Professor Snape replied. "It is not necessary that you know the details."
"But sir . . ."
"You know the polite words and forms," Professor Snape told him. "Doubtless you have been schooled in them since infancy. I'm not talking about you using the correct form of address with me, I'm talking about you actually respecting the rules of this school. If you stay, that is what you are agreeing to. Take your time making the decision."
Even though Draco knew the inevitability of the situation, it still took him several minutes to bring himself to do it. The humiliation was the worst part, though he knew enough to fear the pain as well. It was not his first time over a desk, and he had been expecting it. It would have been easier if his head of house had wrestled him down or perhaps had magically stuck him to the desk, but this insistence on his acquiescence was so difficult!
"Sorry for it," Draco told him, barely audible.
"A proper apology," Professor Snape corrected, his voice betraying a hint of impatience. "Another one like that and I will add to the count."
Draco paused again, chewing his lip absently as he thought of what he should say. His father had never insisted on an apology, he had just bent him over for a proper caning. What did the man want? He didn't want to add anything, though, that was for sure, so whatever he did would have to be respectful and more thorough. "I am sorry, sir, for the shame brought upon Slytherin," Draco told him softly. "I should not have flown like that, I should not have taken the stupid rememberall from Longbottom, and I should not have challenged Potter."
"Better," Professor Snape nodded. "An appropriately timed apology can be a very politically expedient thing to be able to wield. Do you submit yourself to my discipline and my authority from now on?"
"I do, sir," Draco agreed, nodding with trepidation.
"Then assume the position," Snape told him. "I would assume as a pure-blooded wizard you should have no doubt of the proper procedure."
"Yes, sir," Draco answered with a sigh. "You are correct."
Draco went to the desk that the Professor had gestured to, and removed his robe. His body felt the humiliation of what Professor Snape was asking him to do, but he knew the humiliation of being thrown out of Hogwarts would be worse than some justice meted out by his head of house. At least it would be over quickly.
Draco heard Professor Snape fetch the cane from the closet, he didn't want to see it. He knew what was coming. He felt the warning tap and braced himself, grateful for at least that much of a warning.
"Count aloud," his head of house told him, and he nodded in agreement.
Then there was the swish and the snap and the moment delay before the stripe of pain and he had to grit his teeth against the sudden fiery pain. "One, sir," he said. But he was confused, it didn't feel the same as when his father caned him.
"Two," he ground out with the second stroke.
Professor Snape applied ten strokes, firmly and with precision, and then told the young miscreant that he could raise from the table.
"A ruler, sir?" Draco asked in disbelief. He saw the instrument in his head of house's hand, but knew that had been the instrument used on him - his backside did not feel as it did with a cane. And though the ruler did look intimidating in its own right - with eighteen inches of polished hardwood - it was nowhere near as severe as what he thought was what was going to be his due.
"I find a ruler sufficient for most first years' transgressions," Professor Snape answered him. "Though you will be upgraded to a cane if necessary. Now, you are dismissed for now. But remember what you have promised here."
"Yes, sir," Draco agreed.
"And don't let a Gryffindor get the better of you. I expect better of you, Mr. Malfoy."
"Yes, sir," he replied.
"You're in Slytherin now," he told him firmly. "That means something. You're part of something bigger; and you have responsibilities. But if you do disrespect your professors like that again and endanger your fellow students, you will be sent home. Am I clear?"
"Clear, sir," Draco answered.
"Dismissed."