Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Clair de Lune ❯ L'Enfer de Draco ( Chapter 5 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Draco hadn’t expected the next few days to be pleasant, but he’d by far underestimated the severity. He was in hell. True hell.

The Slytherins saw his surprising sorting as nothing less than betrayal and reacted accordingly. He could bear that though. It was just mild things. But when they realized who exactly he intended to protect they became enraged. Being a Gryffindor was offensive and traitorous, but protecting the-boy-who-should-be-dead was nothing short of heresy. And heretics were not acceptable in Wizarding Society. By the time Friday rolled around he’d been to the Hospital Wing no less than eight times.

Draco gritted his teeth as another shard of pain went through his left shoulder. He was quite certain it had been almost dislocated if the great purple bruise that covered half his back was an indication. It curled around his shoulder and onto some of his chest. And on top of that his muscles had stiffened over night so now he could barely move without wincing. Much less carry his book bag. The only thing that saved his dignity was a quick bet made with Weasley. Draco had won of course and now the grumbling red head carried his things for him.

Potter though was annoyingly observant and continually pestered the blond to go see Madam Pomfrey. Only after making a promise to see her after Potions would the scrawny bugger leave him alone. They were headed towards the class when Draco slipped away claiming he needed to pee. A deeply horrifying word to utter. The others had rushed away reluctantly leaving Draco alone for the first time all week. Draco let his shoulders relax only to flinch as his muscles protested.

Draco briskly removed his robe to reveal the white shirt underneath. With ginger care he managed to get his shirt over his head and let it fall off his arms to join the robe on the floor. His lips pressed together in a tight line and his gently began massaging his shoulder to relax the muscles. The resulting pain blinded him and made him grip the sink for support. Draco hissed, his knees were shivering and sweat covered his brow. Alright, he thought valiantly fighting against the dulling throb. Touching is a definite no.

Draco grimaced at his reflection, both from pain and what he found. His pale skin was an almost ashen gray. His eyes were bright and almost feverish looking. His pale blond hair was laying against his head damp from sweat in a tangled mess. He looked horrible. As if the slightest breeze could knock him over.

Baring his teeth at his reflection he combed the hair away from his face, revealing a widow’s peak. He smoothed it down neatly and turned the facet on. He was lucky enough to get one with warm water. Draco soaked his shirt deciding he didn’t need it with his robe on. Picking up the hot garment he laid it on his sore muscles. It stung, but it helped. Draco closed his eyes and leaned against the cool sink. He could do this he knew he could.

Draco slowly slipped his still damp shirt back on. He kept the heat in it with the preservation charm his house elf nanny, Dobby, had taught him. House elves used it to keep their dinners warm until their masters returned. Draco on the other hand was more creative about it. The only problem was it would also remain wet. But all he needed was to keep the water from seeping through his robes. Thankfully Mother had made sure Draco’s robes were water roof. Something he’d discovered worked both ways. His wet clothes wouldn’t show through.

Draco left slowly. The halls were empty and he knew he would be late if he did not hurry. But his footsteps still slowed. It was as if they felt his reluctance to enter this particular class and were dragged down by it. This was the worst thing he’d been through, yet.
How was he supposed to go there? When he couldn’t face the man who’d been like a second father to him? When he was ashamed of this desperate move all at once, not because he was playing with Potter but because it would hurt Severus? When he felt like a vile worm that deserved to be squished?

But of course he had to.

He was a Slytherin in lion’s clothing.

He was a Malfoy.

There was no choice.

When he entered the room his only reprieve was that Severus wasn’t there yet. Unfortunately the only seat left was beside Granger. Draco sat down ignoring her and the hateful look she sent his way. Their relationship had not improved. Then Severus entered looking the all over coldly, before stopping on Draco.

Draco met Severus’s gaze keeping his mask firm and his mind carefully blank. Severus turned sharply without another word. Without another look. As if Draco wasn’t there.

The rejection of his very presence hit Draco harder than he thought possible, but he didn’t show it. He simply sat down and watched like a lazy cat. Bored and above it all. As any true Malfoy would. He watched, but on the inside he was cold and it felt like he was bleeding from some invisible wound. He watched Potter give the right answers, and Draco only felt a dim satisfaction that his work had paid off and the boy knew it

Severus was vicious. He was mean tempered. He was strict. He demanded respect. He pulled them along by their noses, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, as they brewed their first potion. Draco was paired with Granger who insisted on doing all the work. He agreed not up to fighting and turned around to talk to Longbottom, stopping the boy in time to stop a disastrous mistake. Granger and his potion was perfect. Absolute superb. Severus glanced at it and said nothing, meaning he agreed with Draco’s assessment. But it was a cold acknowledgement and not once did he look at Draco. Not once.

When he turned away from the potion his dark eyes skimming to the next one the quill in Draco’s hand broke. Not once did Draco’s smirk waver either, it grew tighter, wider. But when Severus looked away Draco thought he would cry for the first time in forever.

“What’s wrong with you?” Granger hissed under her breath as Severus walked away.

Draco glared at the girl and her furious look faltered. He must have looked truly dreadful at that moment for Granger to shut up. Draco bright back up his smirk quickly.

“Nothing at all Rat de bibliothèque,” he told her happily. “Other than your presence that is.”

Granger’s nostrils flared at this and her brown eyes narrowed. “It isn’t exactly peachy being with you either you stupid git.” The girl snarled.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the girl’s anger. It was usually so difficult to make her snap. Draco clicked his tongue in false disapproval, glad of the distraction.

“Now, now Granger you don’t want Severus to get on to you, for disrespecting your classmate. Do you?” Draco drawled at pleasantly.

“Oh, and I suppose you’ll make him?” she sneered in a surprisingly Slytherin fashion. Then she continued cruelly, “He doesn’t exactly look to happy with you.”

Draco slapped her.

It was a nice hard slap that he put all the strength he could muster into. Enough to send Granger flying back. It also made the most satisfying sharp sound he ever heard in his hot boiling moment of rage. But it hurt like hell, Draco having used his left arm to do it.

He felt nothing, but dark satisfaction until Granger looked at him. Her brown eyes were wide. But completely dry despite how much he knew it had hurt. Her lips were bleeding having hit the floor and busted, but the thing that struck Draco most was how tiny she looked. How petite and feminine.

The horror and guilt he felt in the next moments was nauseating. Draco froze looking down at her hand still in the air. He’d just hit a girl, his horror filled mind told him. He’d hit a girl, both smaller and weaker than him. Draco felt vomit rise in his throat, burning and disgusting. His parents would kill him.

“Draco,” a soft deadly voice rang out of the silent room. Looking up slowly, as if in a dream he saw Severus’s livid face. Lips pulled back against his teeth in an almost snarl, black eyes boring into him cold and penetratingly. Draco didn’t have to make his mind go blank. It already was frozen from the disgust he felt welling in him.

“Go. To. The. Headmaster.” Severus managed to get out through clenched jaws. Draco stood blinking at him dumbly and looked back down at Granger.

She wasn’t looking at him and was wobbly getting to her feet, with Potter’s help. Green eyes looked at him solemnly, disapprovingly. Weasley could only gape stupidly, stunned.

“Now!” Severus snarled, sending Draco flying from the room.

Shit. Merde. Merde. Shit. Draco thought distraught and switching between the two languages without a second thought. Soon he was chanting the words under his breath the entire long run to through the halls. Draco came to an abrupt stop in the Transfiguration hall. He’d just realized he had no idea where the Headmaster’s office was and had been running blind in his panic.

Falling against the stone wall Draco sank to ground and buried his face in his hands. He was such an idiot, such a stupid, stupid idiot. The one thing his parents would never forgive him for and he’d done it. The one thing Severus (until he betrayed him) would never forgive him. You were not supposed to strike a girl unless in self defense. Granger’s insults did not call for such a reaction. Vomit burned it way up the blonde’s throat.

His parents had always spoken of the horrors they’d seen in their own families. His mother’s favorite cousin had been abused by her husband. Draco’s grandmother had been abused by his Malfoy grandfather to the point she wouldn’t even breathe without her husband’s consent. That had been one of the reasons Lucius hated his father so much. The worst thing is he knew that move would trigger praise from most purebloods, which still had a medieval view on women and marriage. It was also the same thing that had made the Malfoys different from the other families in their circles. Spousal abuse was a common and accepted practice amoung the pureblood elite.

And now he’d hit a girl.

Draco’s eyes began to sting and he bit his lip to distract himself. The sharp pain worked and after a few moments he was calm enough to get shakily to his feet. He needed to get to the Headmaster, which meant he needed help finding him. He would have to ask someone.

Draco instinctively balked at the idea. He did not want to be seen in such a state. Eyes puffy and clearly upset. But if he stayed here he would have to face the older Slytherins. He’d memorized their schedules in order to avoid them and some of his worst tormentors were in Transfiguration right now. Draco stiffened hearing footsteps behind him. He jumped to his feet and instantly bit back a moan of pain, hands jumping to his shoulder, which had stiffened painfully while he sat.

“My boy why aren’t you in class right now?” a concerned Professor Flitwick questioned. He would have to due the blonde decided.

“You see, sir, Professor Snape sent me to the headmaster’s Office, but I don’t know where it is.” Draco said with a forced polite calm. At least now his expression and voice contrasted sharply enough with his appearance to convince some he was fine.

The short teacher frowned, but his eyes were sympathetic and kind. Draco didn’t trust them at once. His week had been too horrible for anyone to be truly kind. He was taken by surprise though.

“I’ll take you, but first I need to stop by the Hospital Wing to pick up something from Madam Pomfrey.”  Flitwick told him seeing his shoulder pointedly. Draco was grateful for Flitwick having enough people skills to know better than to openly mention the shoulder and for his small, startling kindness. He followed the teacher eyes watering for a different reason. By the time Flitwick looked over his shoulder to check on Draco the Blonde had hid it, but judging by Flitwick’s soft smile the gratefulness still showed on his expression.

“Chocolate Frog,” Flitwick said an hour later to a wall where two Gargoyles sat. A few moments later a spiral staircase was revealed.

Flitwick turned to look at Draco with what could only be described as a furious look. Draco didn’t react. Flitwick had stayed despite Draco’s protests and had seen the wounds he’d received. The little teacher had snapped and instantly demanded to know who did it, while Madam Pomfrey stood nearby cold agreement written across her icy expression. Draco had refused like always and neither adult had been pleased with his stubborn refusals to name his attackers.

Flitwick sighed a moment later and stretched to place a hand on Draco’s shoulder. Draco looked at the teacher confused by the sudden reaction, but saw only sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry Draco. So very sorry.” he told him eyes pained.

Draco simply starred at him uncomprehending as to where the words were coming from. Flitwick didn’t elaborate though and shooed Draco up the stairs. Draco obeyed, but turned to watch the little teacher walking away with a deep sadness written in his suddenly decades older face. Still not completely understanding what had triggered it Draco walked up the steps with the same dread he was sure Anne Boleyn had felt walking to the chopping block. Draco almost laughed at the irony of a pureblood comparing himself to a Muggle queen, but it died in his throat at the sight of the door.

It was just a doorknob. He knew that very well, but at the moment it looked more sinister and intimidating than anything. He had to open it though. Malfoys weren’t cowards, despite what others claimed. They just had a keen sense of self preservation. If he didn’t open it, it would be even worse later. Draco reached for the knob.

“Enter,” a gentle voice said behind the door causing Draco to flinch, but he didn’t pause his reach. He gripped the door knob, turned it and gave it a push. The room revealed to him was something he’d find amazing to see on any other day. But the dread that made him cold and the blank calmness on the Headmaster’s face stopped it. Draco couldn’t move though, simply staring at the man.

“Sit Draco,” Dumbledore said loosening Draco from his trance. The boy’s eye instantly went to the floor avoiding the Headmaster’s. Draco sat in the chair opposite of the desk Dumbledore sat at. A cold ran its way down Draco’s spine as if a hand that had been held in a snowdrift was tracing it.

The silence was tangible.

“You struck another student,” Dumbledore said with a knowing softness and condemnation. Or at least to Draco’s ears it was condemning.

Draco nodded unable to speak. No sense of denying it.

“A Muggleborn student named Hermione Granger.”

Draco nodded again examining the graining of the wooden desk and finding the swirling shapes in its dark almost reflectively smooth surface.

“Why?”

The word hung in the air simple and horrible.

“I don’t know sir.”

Dumbledore remained silent a few moments and Draco almost looked to see the man’s expression, but stopped himself. If he looked up he’d meet piercing blue eyes. And if he met those blue eyes he wouldn’t be able to look away and the man would know everything.

“You do not know Draco?” the man said in his quietly horrible voice, that made you want to look up at him and plead for forgiveness even if you hadn’t done a wrong.

“No sir.” Draco replied stubbornly.

There was another silence.

“If you are sure you don’t know…” Dumbledore paused waiting for an answer. The man sighed. “Then I have know choice, but to punish you Mr. Malfoy. Detention for three weeks, with Mr. Filch.”

Draco nodded and waited to be dismissed.

The old man sighed again, but this one sounded more wistful than disappointed. “You may go.”

Draco got up to leave, but stopped halfway across the room. The blonde closed his eyes and only half decided opened his mouth to speak. “If I take on another three weeks will you not tell my parents?”

The pause was the longest yet.

“I’m sorry, but your parents must be informed Mr. Malfoy.” Draco felt his stomach drop and swallowed the cold lump in his throat to reply.

“Of course.”

Draco left without another word.

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