The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…by Samayel

Chapter 21: Cruel And Unusual Punishment


There was a small table for dining in Draco’s suite, one of the amenities for guests of the school that chose to take their meals in private. John Prewett motioned for Draco to take a seat, and moved to the opposite side of the table for a seat of his own, removing and polishing his glasses before he spoke, letting Draco sit in nervous and apprehensive silence all the while.

‘What have I agreed to? What do they want of me? How bad can it be? I want…I want to stay…but if it’s worse than Durmstrang…no…it can’t be worse than that. They aren’t like that here. Harry said so. It has to be true. They’ll want an apology…and some kind of service…but nothing…horrible. I hope.’

“Ahem. Well, there, nothing like properly cleaned lenses, is there? I try not to look at the world through thumb-print tinted lenses. I much prefer a rose tint, myself. Let me be succinct. Mr. Malfoy…I want you to explain to me, from your perspective, the reasons for today’s debacle. I’ve heard some fairly serious accusations, and the Headmistress, quite frankly, is too upset to treat this matter fairly. I asked to arbitrate this matter, and she granted my request. This began with a dispute between you and professor Potter, didn’t it? Explain it to me, and let me be clear about one thing…I expect candor on your part. Anything less will be…unsatisfactory.”

The word unsatisfactory sounded vaguely like the lid of a coffin slamming shut. Draco calmed himself, suddenly feeling incredible apprehension. He didn’t know this man at all. He hadn’t wanted to share his thoughts with anyone…except…well…perhaps Harry Potter. Sharing anything essentially personal with a stranger was just horrifying. If he was to have any hope of remaining here, he’d simply have to deal with it. Some quarter had to be given. He wouldn’t lie…but as long as the right questions weren’t asked…he could choose carefully what he said. That would have to be the way of it. He composed himself carefully, and began.

“Master Prewett…this is…my responsibility. I brought all of this about, and not…not purposefully, but I’m willing to do what I have to…if I can make this right. I asked him, the professor, about my parents…last night. He was the lead Auror on the case. The case was closed with no arrests. He wouldn’t talk about it. He wouldn’t tell me anything. I…I lost my temper, and then returned to my rooms in a rage.

When I came to his class today, I deliberately baited him into a duel. It was purposeful. I didn’t hurt anyone. I just used a spell against a student that hadn’t been specified. I disarmed a few other students and issued a challenge when the professor interrupted. I insulted him…publicly…to make him fight me. I wanted…I thought that…even if I lost…he would relent and tell me something about my parents. I thought he abandoned the case before leaving the Auror service. I wanted to win the duel, punish him for letting the people who killed my parents get away, but I really didn’t care either way. I just…I wanted to do something…anything.

I lost the duel. He was…he was incredible. My instructors at Durmstrang were ham-fisted apes next to what he did. I tried everything I knew, but I was lucky just to land one spell on him. His reputation…is deserved. After…he ordered me to his office. I…”

Draco trailed off, cheeks flaming. Should he admit that he’d stripped his robe and shirt, expecting punishment like Durmstrang? Even if he should confess it, it was embarrassing in the extreme. John Prewett was still listening quietly, his hands together on the table, an expression of interest on his face.

“And then? What happened in the office, Mr. Malfoy? Or do you prefer Draco?”

The question flustered him, and he snapped out an answer quickly.

“Either is fine…it doesn’t matter! I…sir? How much…of this is…in confidence? Would anyone else know?”

“Draco…I think we can agree that this depends on what you say. If it has relevance to the Headmistress or staff, then it will likely be shared with them. If it hasn’t any relevance, then I can offer a measure of privacy, but it depends entirely on what you say. I can only promise that I’ll listen without bias, and make my decisions after you’ve answered any questions I may have.”

“I see.” There was nothing for it but to plunge ahead. Draco’s eyes flicked to the table. “Master Prewett…at Durmstrang, when I crossed a professor, I would be sent to their office to wait for a whipping. Or sometimes switch or a strap was used. It depended on the teacher. I thought…I thought that was normal. I waited in professor Potter’s office…but I took off my robes and shirt, and waited at his desk. I thought I’d be whipped, like before, and I thought that because he was a very kind person, he would tell me about my parents afterwards…because…”

“Because you thought he’d feel guilt about doing something like that? That’s an unusual approach. Willing to take a beating just to lay the groundwork for a conversation? You don’t fear pain very much, do you? I wouldn’t set myself up for a whipping if I could possibly help it. Would you explain that for me before you continue?”

“I was…punished…often…at Durmstrang. I learned to not care. Pain fades in time. Pride is all we have…sometimes. I did not let them think they’d won. When I was treated unjustly, I did not sit in silence. I paid whatever price I had to pay in exchange to humiliate them with the truth.”

Draco clenched his jaw visibly for the first time while speaking. John Prewett knew a raw nerve when he saw one, and shifted the conversation accordingly.

“Very well. I accept that. It seems a pity that you thought we’d condone such a treatment of students here. Corporal punishment was abolished at Hogwarts many, many years ago. Hasn’t been used since the days of Headmaster Dippet. Please continue. What happened between you and professor Potter?”

“He came into the office…and he was furious. He ordered me to put my clothes back on. Once I was dressed, he started yelling about what I’d done. He was going to expel me…I think. He said he couldn’t teach me. I thought I’d be leaving here anyway, so I risked saying what I felt.

I…I accused him openly of being a coward…of abandoning my parent’s case as an Auror and quitting the service instead of finding their killers. I was yelling when he grabbed me by the throat. He looked like he could kill. I couldn’t break his grip, and…and he threw me to the ground and ordered me out of the room…and out of the school.”

“Wait. I get the distinct impression that you’re glossing over something here. Did Harry say anything to you? Did he answer your questions about your parents?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed with irritation. Prewett possessed an intuition that was uncanny, and evading uncomfortable questions would be harder than he’d imagined.

“What he said was mine to hear. It wouldn’t help anything or anyone to repeat it. He answered my questions, then threw me to the ground. I ran away when he ordered me to leave.”

“Draco…this is very important. What did he tell you about your parent’s case? If it makes a difference to you, I can only say that I have become familiar with a number of things that professor Potter alone knew about the case. What I want to know…is what you know.”

Draco dug in his heels, face flaming. “If he didn’t want it spoken of…I can’t…I wouldn’t betray his confidence. He spoke in haste. He was angry. Please don’t ask me to do anything that might hurt him further.”

“That’s an admirable sentiment. I see I’ll have to put my cards on the table. Draco, I’ve been privy to the history of that case. I count myself very fortunate that Harry Potter trusted me with these things. I know what happened to your parent’s killers. I also know why. Tell me what Harry said, and I promise you that if the information would harm him, I’ll keep it in confidence. On that, you have my sworn word.”

The sigh that came was expansive. The stress of the day had already been overwhelming. Draco folded, holding his head in hands and rubbing his temples.

“I…I know what happened. He told me then. He killed them…the ones who did it. It was covered up to protect him. He…he was…very close…to my father. More than others thought. He never forgot. I made him have to remember all of it, and it made him sick. I shouldn’t have…I never meant to…to make him ill! You have to believe me! I didn’t want this! I just wanted to know!”

Draco had gotten more than a little hysterical, flushed and a little ragged and wild about the eyes. Much of the days events were coming back to him clearly, and while he’d been stalwart when he had a purpose to fulfill, now he was panicky, exhausted and nerve-wracked. John Prewett calmly changed the subject.

“I know, lad. All of it. It’s alright. You didn’t know until he told you…that he’d done those things. You weren’t supposed to know. What you did was wrong…but understandable, given your conclusions about those times. Just let me say that, though you’ve acted rashly, and complicated matters a bit, these things aren’t your fault at all.

“Professor Potter’s illness might easily have been avoided if we’d been able to act sooner. The choice to hide the seriousness of his condition was his and his alone. A lot of people who thought they knew him well missed the small signs of this coming, and even my interference wasn’t enough to prevent this. Some of it even lies on my account. Very little of this falls to you. I know you’re upset, but there is a little more we’ve yet to cover. Can you handle this?”

The sting to his pride, hearing it implied that he was distressed, prodded Draco back to sense.

“Yes…I can…I can handle this.”

“Tell me then…what happened after you left the office? Why did you summon the Headmistress? You didn’t mention Harry collapsing on the spot…so what prompted you to seek out help?”

“It was a feeling. I could tell he wasn’t well. You didn’t see him…what he was like. I thought he’d gone insane. When I stopped running, I knew I shouldn’t have let him alone like that…even if he wanted me to leave. He wasn’t well…but I didn’t know what else to do. I went to the Headmistress and demanded that she seek him out. It…it made sense then. I just acted…there wasn’t time for thought.”

Prewett nodded calmly. “But you did walk through the wards to help him when the two of you arrived. Not being afraid of pain has its benefits. They weren’t harmful wards, but they were very thorough and likely very uncomfortable. That was an exceptional thing to do. I hadn’t realized, until today, that professor Potter’s well being was such a concern to you.”

Draco’s look was one of pure shock and embarrassment. “It..it was nothing of the sort! It was my responsibility! I wronged him…I had to make up for it. I’m not afraid of wards like those…so it wasn’t that bad. Would you have done any less to help him?”

Prewett chuckled. “I’m afraid that, while I’m a fit fellow for my years, I’d have been in no shape for healing after crossing those wards! Where angels fear to tread, as they say! Perhaps you think it nothing, but I assure you of this, young man…the Headmistress is still vexed with you, and professor Weasley is most irate, but the reason we’re speaking now is entirely because you put yourself in harm’s way and through some painful trouble, without a second thought, just to get professor Potter to let down those wards. Such selfless acts aren’t to be trivialized. Without them, you’d have been expelled without question.

Now…tell me what passed between you and professor Potter when you entered the office. How did you find him? In what condition? How is it that you got him to let the wards down?”

Alarm flared in Draco’s mind. This was dangerously close to the truth of things, truths he was woefully unprepared to share, and had barely had time to glimpse himself.

“He was unconscious…behind the desk. I can’t remember what I said. I…I panicked…seeing him…like that. I didn’t know what to do. I just…I know I was trying to tell him to wake up…to drop the wards…and he opened his eyes for a second, then sighed and dropped the wards.”

“You’re sure there was nothing more? Nothing that comes to mind? Any details might help me to help Harry, once he wakes. Even details that you might think trivial.”

Draco folded again, this time too shaken to resist. “He’d been sick. There…there was a bottle…broken. I spelled away the mess before others saw it. He wouldn’t…want to be seen like that. And…he didn’t do anything wrong…he didn’t know who I was. He…when I spoke to him…I was very close. He opened his eyes and…and he kissed me. I didn’t do anything because…because I didn’t want to upset him. He didn’t mean to…you have to understand! Something like that…people would think…things. He thought…he thought I was someone else. Don’t tell anyone! Please! Whatever you ask of me…I’ll do it…just…don’t let them think ill of him.”

“Needn’t worry for that, my boy. There’s no one here who wishes ill on Harry Potter. It might be of some comfort to you to know that he’ll be getting the rest he needs for awhile. Professor Potter will be fine, at least for now. We tried not to use potions that would incapacitate him, or he’d have been better rested all along, but since we have no choice, I’ve administered Dreamless Sleep, along with a few sovereign soporifics that are too powerful for regular use. I can keep certain parts of our conversation entirely private, most particularly, the portions that would affect the two of you the most.

And as for you…I think it’s time we discuss a suitable disciplinary action for your conduct. Mr. Malfoy, are you prepared to accept whatever judgment I render?”

It was infuriating, having this held over him this way, but Draco nodded quietly. The old man had agreed to hold Harry’s secrets, and he seemed kindly enough, or at least uninterested in personal gain. It would have to be enough. If he was to stay, this was the cost, and he would pay it.

“Very well. First and foremost, you will attend counseling sessions with me, three evenings a week, until such time as I deem fit to reduce them, or until the end of the school term and your departure from Hogwarts. I deem this necessary because you have shown a dangerous lack of judgment on your own, and an inability to resolve conflicts without resorting to unacceptable measures, the results of which are already clear to you now.

Second, you will apologize before the class that witnessed the duel, sincerely, and in detail. I will see the written version of the apology before it is given, and approve it or amend it as I see fit. I will also oversee it being made to that class. You will also apologize to the Headmistress, and to Harry Potter, if and when he feels ready to see you and hear your apology himself.

Lastly, since professor Potter will require considerable rest, and this is the first year since his start that he has been ill, Hogwarts is ill prepared to replace him on short notice. At the moment, it appears that professor Ron Weasley, a veteran of the war alongside professor Potter, will be teaching as a substitute in the interim, until I feel that Mr. Potter is ready to return to his duties.

You, Mr. Malfoy, will be his assistant and teacher’s aide. Hopefully you’ll take the opportunity to learn a little more about responsibility once you’ve had some regarding others. That is my judgment. Think on it, and see me first thing in the morning. Good night, Mr. Malfoy. Take your rest…you’ll need it.”

John Prewett stood to leave, and Draco sat in gob-smacked horror while the man headed for the door. He composed himself as the door creaked open and turned to the departing gentleman.

“You…you can’t…you can’t be serious. You just…I can’t…”

“On the contrary, my dear boy! I can…and you can…and I just did! I could have put some effort into coming up with much, much worse, but I think that will suffice. In case you’re wondering, I’ve already had some heated words with professor Weasley, and he’ll be a bit better behaved the next time you see him…he was unnecessarily harsh today, and he knows it. Oh…and about tomorrow morning…I wake at five am. See me at six…remember what I said about needing your rest?”

Draco slumped helplessly into his chair, horrified past the point of speech or even wordless protest. Public apologies? Counseling? Talking about…what? About himself? He didn’t want to talk about himself! And Ron Weasley!!! Hero or no, the man was a detestable ogre!

But what else could he do? Leave? Turn tail and run like a coward? It was one thing to go if he’d been expelled, it was another to admit defeat and quit in ignominy. His pride had sustained him through seemingly endless beatings, in Durmstrang and before. He had never once surrendered in the face of a challenge. Never. But then…he’d never faced one so…intimate…so sticky and full of pitfalls of the self.

What was to be done? Draco sat, in chair, and later, silent, in bed, mulling over every angle and possibility, and flickering through the day that had passed.

And when he closed he closed his eyes, his last thoughts were only of that kiss, sweet and stolen, unutterably wrong…and yet…ineffably…sublime.

TBC!!!