Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.
Author's Note: Hey everyone, and thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! I'm so glad you're intrigued by the story. I hope I continue to meet your expectations.
I enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it!
xxxxxxxxxx
The light of morning came all too soon for Draco Malfoy. As soon as he returned to consciousness, the pain from yesterday hit his body full force. He ached all over as he yawned, stretched, and with difficulty, sat up.
He knew he should have gone to Madam Pomfrey after the terrible events of the day before, but he hadn't wanted to. She would want to know where his injuries came from, and the last thing he wanted to do was tell her that a teacher had turned him into a small animal and bounced him around on the floor, and he certainly didn't want to tell her that it had all come about because of Saint Potter. Pomfrey would sort out his injuries, but probably look at him disdainfully because he had the unmitigated gall to hurt the Golden Boy.
Anger began to sizzle again within him as he got ready for the day. The other four boys in his dorm didn't say much as they prepared for the day as well. That stupid Potter, he had everyone on his side. He thought of himself as such a hero, a do-gooder who could do absolutely no wrong. He was everyone's darling, and if he'd been the one humiliated in front of a crowd, he would have had all of them on his side. No one would have laughed at the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, would they? They'd scream, shout, and curse the person who hurt him.
And he absolutely refused to think about the fact that Potter had defended him. No, he was not going there. It must have been a fluke - he must just be trying to make everyone think well of him. After the ordeal was over, he had probably started laughing with the Weasel and the filthy Mudblood as he recollected it.
As well as the frothing anger, Draco felt shame well up within him again. His father would have told him that he had to control his emotions better. The fact of the matter was, Potter had hit a nerve when he'd insulted Draco's mother. Narcissa Malfoy was a beautiful woman, who had a very regal bearing and who showed that she was strong no matter what happened. She didn't deserve to be insulted by the likes of Pathetic Potter. He knew absolutely nothing about her, so he should have shut his mouth.
But Lucius would have reamed him out, told him that he should have been a lot more subtle about getting revenge on Potter. Cursing him in front of a crowd and having a teacher see him definitely would not have made him look good in his father's eyes. He heard the man's deep voice within his head: "I'm very disappointed in you, Draco." The words made him shudder as he put on his robes.
After he had used the bathroom, he went back to the dorm to get his bag, which contained his books. Nott and Zabini had already gone down to the common room, but Crabbe and Goyle were still there, waiting for him. A sneer formed on his face - couldn't those two great lumps do anything for themselves? Honestly, the only benefit to having them around was the fact that they defended him against all the scum in the school who insulted and belittled him. "Come on, you two," he told them in a bored voice. Dutifully, they followed him like two faithful puppies, not saying anything at all.
Furious thoughts still raced through Draco's mind, and a knot of dread formed in his stomach. He knew that today would be hell, because the ferret incident would still be fresh in the students' minds. The laughter and taunts he would have to endure put him in an extremely foul mood. He'd been saying it for years, and he knew it more than ever now - this whole bloody school was going to the dogs. Not only did that fool Dumbledore let Mudbloods roam the school willy-nilly, but he hired the worst professors to ever exist. He'd never forget the end of last year, when he'd learned that Remus Lupin, that weak-willed man in pathetic, shabby robes was a damned werewolf. How could Dumbledore do something so irresponsible? Lucius was right - he was the worst Headmaster the school had ever had.
And now ... now there was Mad-Eye Moody, who was a complete lunatic. Dumbledore was insane - he needed to be committed. St. Mungo's is the best place for him, Draco thought snidely as he reached the common room. It's bad enough that I still have to take Care of Magical Creatures with that oaf Hagrid. Did Dumbledore get some kind of enjoyment out of putting the entire school's population on death's doorstep?
He'd never forget the debacle with the hippogriff. He'd looked on, a snarl transforming his face as he'd stared at Potter, the apple of Hagrid's eye, taking a ride on Buckbeak and smiling like it was the most wonderful thing on Earth. If Potter could do it so easily, why not him? He'd show Potter that he wasn't all that special. He'd looked with disdain at the foul creature. To this day, he still could not remember what he'd said, because it had been completely drowned out by the vicious attack that he had suffered.
And had he received sympathy from the rest of the school? Oh, no. It was "let's blame the victim and keep worshipping Saint Potter, and oh, Hagrid is such a great teacher, oh, it wasn't his fault, of course the poor man should keep teaching, he deserves it after all and you're nothing, Draco." His parents had been two of the very few people who had sympathized with his plight.
He remembered the day of the brutish animal's planned execution all too well. He'd seen Hagrid, looking miserable and with tears in his eyes. He'd spoken his mind, and the next thing he knew, he'd been slapped. That Mudblood had no right to lay a finger on him. That incident lit a fire within his bones. He'd always hated that buck-toothed, bushy-haired monstrosity; it was bad enough that she had beaten him for the best in the class, a fact he despised to acknowledge. He remembered with crystal clarity his father's face when he'd found that little tidbit out. She was an abomination, a blight on the wizarding world; how dare she deign to touch him! His hatred towards her had only grown in intensity since that day.
And then, Buckbeak had escaped. Draco would bet a million galleons that it had something to do with Potter, because everything had to do with Potter. Every facet of life seemed to revolve around the Savior, after all. The school year had ended with Draco in a constant bad mood, livid beyond belief.
As he entered the common room, he noticed that it was abnormally silent. He looked around, and saw the reason why. Snape was standing there, and this was an unusual occurrence. Snape didn't enter the common room that often; he was always available if a student had a problem, but he normally could be found in his office. He only came to the common room if there was something of high importance to announce or someone he really needed to talk to.
And unfortunately for Draco, it was him who Snape wanted. "Mr. Malfoy," he said in a controlled voice. "Come with me, please."
Draco forced a blank expression onto his face. What did the man want? Had he heard about that abhorrent incident Draco had been through yesterday?
Slowly and reluctantly, his body still stiff and sore from being ravaged by a sadist, he followed his Head of House out of the common room and to his office. Neither of them said a word on the way there, and Draco could feel Snape's black eyes on him, assessing him.
Snape had been present in Draco's life for as long as he could remember. He and Lucius had maintained a relationship, and he had been a visitor to Malfoy Manor on many an occasion. He had often told Draco that he could come to him with any issue he had, and the boy had been tempted to confide in him last night. But that awful feeling of shame had held him back; he hoped Snape would never hear of the incident. But with the way petty and nasty gossip spread around Hogwarts, he didn't hold out much hope for that. And he had a bad feeling that this was what his discussion with Snape would be about.
All too soon, they reached the office. "Take a seat, Draco," Snape said curtly, and Draco obeyed, his stomach tying itself in knots.
They sat there, staring at each other for a moment, and Draco could see that Snape was contemplating what to say. Finally, he asked, "Are you injured? Walking here seemed painful for you."
Draco could hear the concern in Snape's tone, and his mind fought a battle with itself. Part of him wanted to tell Snape how much pain he was in, but another part wanted to save face in front of a man he had always felt a little intimidated by. Snape was not one to suffer fools easily, and Draco knew it. "Er," he said, instantly cursing himself for sounding so bloody pathetic.
Snape took the decision out of his hands, because he could tell what the answer was just by Draco's response. He got up from his desk and went to a cabinet, opening it. Inside were many bottles, containing potions and salves of all kinds. He picked one, closed the door, and brought it over to the desk, where he handed it to Draco. "Here," he said, his voice still curt. Draco knew what this was: Bruise Balm. He'd used it at home as a child when he got into scrapes playing Quidditch.
Draco's face turned bright red as he flushed with embarrassment. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, and he wondered irrationally if Snape could hear it, too. "Thanks," he said softly.
"You may take this with you, but please bring it back to me when you are done," said Snape. Draco couldn't help the tiny pinprick of gratitude that went through him; Snape knew the boy did not want to use it in front of him. His Malfoy pride would not let him show weakness, not even in front of a man he trusted. He opened his bag and placed the Bruise Balm inside.
"Now, Draco," Snape said, his tone terse. Draco immediately stiffened; Snape sounded like he was going into lecture mode. The boy felt himself go tense, his defensive walls going up around him.
One thing Draco both admired and hated about Snape was his uncanny ability to read people. He knew his teacher was well-trained in both Occlumency and Legillimency, but it seemed as though he didn't even have to use those powers in order to know exactly what a person was thinking. "You can relax. I'm not going to lecture you," he said, proving Draco's point that he was reading him correctly now. "You have been punished enough, and frankly, that imbecile has no business being in this school."
"No, he doesn't," Draco said, his anger at Moody renewing and rising to the surface. "This school is turning into real garbage," he said, suddenly feeling an urge to vent to the one man he knew didn't worship the ground Harry Potter walked on. "What in Merlin's name was Dumbledore thinking? Does he make it his life's mission to hire lunatics?"
"I must admit, his hiring choices leave a lot to be desired," said Snape, and though he was trying to stay calm, Draco could sense the roiling anger beneath the words.
"How did you find out?" Draco asked, trying to get comfortable in the chair. He hoped Snape wouldn't keep him for much longer - he was desperate to use the Bruise Balm on his body.
Snape sneered. "Moody took the utmost pleasure in telling me himself," he said, his black eyes glittering.
Another wave of fury erupted inside Draco. "He's insane," he said contemptuously. "He should be committed to St. Mungo's, he and Dumbledore both. They've always been thick as thieves, haven't they? And let me guess. Telling the old man isn't going to do any good, is it? He's never going to fire him, even though he assaulted a student."
"I'm afraid not," Snape said, and his emotions were now back under control. "I must warn you, Draco," he then said, and there was real demand in his voice now. Draco kept his eyes fixed on him, his nerves on edge. "I would tread very, very carefully around him. And even though I will not spend time lecturing you, I must urge you to control yourself in front of Potter, especially when a staff member is around."
Draco had spent a lot of time berating himself for this, and hearing it from Snape cracked something in him. "Don't worry," he said snidely, his face immediately contorting into one of loathing. "I won't harm a hair on Golden Boy's head again, okay?"
"Draco," Snape said in a warning tone, glaring at the boy. "Do not speak to me in that manner."
Draco jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain that shot through his body. He was suddenly so enraged he felt like he could throw something at the wall. Ever since Moody had let him go, the anger had simmered and bubbled, but now it exploded out of him in one great torrent. Snape lecturing him about staying calm in front of Potter had been the final straw. All the lessons Lucius had taught him about keeping his temper in check fled his mind, and all the shame about trying to curse Potter fled momentarily. "I'm bloody sick of this!" he spat, not even caring if he'd get in trouble for swearing at Snape. "I'm sick and tired of everyone pandering to Harry Potter! He's nothing but an idiotic, stupid fool who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut and his nose out of everyone's business! Oh, no, don't hurt precious Harry. Give him rewards and treats and grant his every wish. He has both the Weasel and the filthy little Mudblood wrapped around his finger ..."
"DRACO!" Snape was suddenly just as livid as Draco. "How many times have I told you not to use that word?"
"Why should you care?" Draco spat back, his anger completely beyond his control. "You were a Death Eater! I'm sure you use it all the time too!"
Snape's eyes flashed in such a way that it made Draco flinch. He saw to his shock that the professor was gripping the desk so hard his knuckles were white. Slowly, he let the desk go, and took a deep breath in order to reign in his emotions. "I care because you have no subtlety, and you pay no attention to who you are around when you use it!" Snape hissed. "You have no discretion, Draco! Use that word in front of the wrong person and you'll land yourself in very, very deep trouble!" Snape's voice then grew low and dangerous. "Do you want to get yourself expelled, Mr. Malfoy?" he growled. "Slytherins are not supposed to lose their temper in the way you are doing."
"But it's so unfair!" Draco shouted, still in the throes of anger. "Potter gets the adoration of everyone! No one will ever shut up about him!"
"Life is unfair, Draco," said Snape, his face still fixed in a fierce glower. "And I'd get that through your head if I were you."
Draco glared back at Snape, unwilling to let his anger recede. "Don't," he said, clenching his fists. "I just hate him so much! And where did he get off defending me?" he blurted out, not being able to help himself. He couldn't not think about it anymore; it could no longer be avoided. "I'm positive he thought it was just as funny as the rest of them, and he was just trying to make himself look good so the school starts talking about him again!"
And with that, he turned around, picked up his bag, and stormed out of the office, not looking back. He expected Snape to call after him, but strangely, he didn't.
As he walked down the corridor, his thoughts raced. The anger that had been pounding through him slowly began to ebb, his heartrate decreasing. It was replaced by an even deeper sensation of shame. He'd completely lost his composure again, and in front of Snape no less.
But it was all Potter's fault, wasn't it? That stupid idiot was the one doing this to him. It was because of him that he'd been hurt and humiliated to such an extent. It was because Potter was everyone's darling that Moody had decided transfiguring Draco into a ferret was a fair punishment.
But it was also because of Potter that he was so damn confused, he thought, finally admitting the true reason he couldn't control himself. Potter had defended him, and as hard as he tried, and no matter what he had just said to Snape, he couldn't quite convince himself that Harry only did it to make himself look like the fountain of nobility and compassion in front of his classmates.
And that, he thought as he continued to walk, was the most insane notion of all.