Fathers, Godfathers, and Godsons...Oh My
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Harry Potter › General
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Adult
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
29
Views:
3,120
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Draco hated Defense Against the Physical Arts (DAPA) with a capital H-A-T-E. Hate, hate, HATE! And not just because he sucked at it, even though he did. He was in a class of second and third years and he was doing worse than the second years. What was the point of using your body when you had a wand? It didn’t make sense to him and he didn’t like it.
Harry and Ron weren’t afraid to get dirty. They threw themselves at each other. And yes, he’d done the same but that was tickling...playing. It wasn’t fighting. He didn’t do things like that. He used his mouth and his wand, he did not lower himself to physical rough housing. Even Hermione, Merlin bless her, was better at this and that was the worst of it.
He mimicked the poses, that he could do. He learned the proper way to hold himself. Position. Balance. But putting it all together just didn’t make sense to him and frankly he was fed up. Tired. Bored! He sighed and kicked the ground, wandering over with the other students to form a circle around the fighting arena. Well, it wasn’t an arena so much as a padded section of the ballroom. Not that it would protect you from the other student. Joy.
“Mr. Nott.”
He glared at the Slytherin as the cocky bastard swaggered into the center. The bastard picked up the
instructions but added his own little nasty tricks and the instructor didn’t correct him on form or anything. What was the point of instruction if you could just make it up as you went?
“Mr. Dumbledore.”
He received pats on the back and sympathetic looks but steeled himself, stepping into the center. Nott smirked at him and he felt his gut clench. He was getting his ass beaten twice by this guy and he hated it, “Now, remember the rules. No hits below the waist, only hands and feet. Ready?”
No.
“Begin.”
Nott fell back on his right foot before swinging his fist forward. Direct hit. Draco saw stars and clutched his mouth, feeling blood pool into his hand from his busted nose.
“Time.”
Nott snickered but moved back while the teacher came forward, carefully lifting Draco head to see the damage. Damaged but not broken. He flicked his wand and the pain stopped, the blood clotting though his face throbbed, “Sit this one out. Weasley, you’re up.”
Draco grunted and stumbled slowly through the crowd, finding a seat and sitting down. Ow.
***
Harry and Hermione shared a look. They had to do something. It’s not just that Draco was falling behind in class. He had to learn to defend himself or the Slytherins were going to pounce on him. Or someone else would come along. Hermione thought to herself for a moment before a sly look crossed her face. She gathered her best friend close and whispered in his ear. And so it began.
At breakfast, before Draco could enter the Hall he was accosted by his friends. Cassie moved to punch him and he cringed. But she stopped short, Harry moving Draco’s hands to the correct position and when she moved again she encountered his hands. He was given slaps on the back and dragged, confused, into breakfast. Lunch time Hermione came at him with a back hand and he leapt back. Ron caught him and dragged him back, moving his hands and body and again Hermione moved, blocked.
By dinner time he was starting to get the point and at dinner he didn’t even flinch when Ron moved to punch him in the gut. So he was surprised when he was pushed to the floor and looked up, confused. Harry and Hermione moved to help and Ron put his foot down, “No. He gets up himself or he doesn’t get up.” The redhead shook his head, “I don’t pull my punches much now get up.” Draco slowly rose, looking wary, “Block me.” He moved again and again Draco was on the ground, this time his backside a bit sore. Shaking his head, “We’re going to
do this until you do it right. If we miss dinner then so be it.”
Hermione moved to speak and Harry put a gentle hand over her mouth, shaking his head. He understood.
Glaring, “I don’t find it necessary to fight.”
Ron glared back, “I do you pussy now block me.”
Slapping the floor and jumping to his feet, “I am not!”
Snorting, “You take a beating every Friday, now you’re letting me, the weasel, push you around? You’re a pussy or a masochist and you’re pathetic.” He moved again and this time Draco blocked, then followed through with his own fist that would have hit his target had Ron not seen it coming and caught it.
Grinning at the justified fire in his friend’s eyes, “Better, mate. Much better.” Draco cocked his head, frowning as he was dragged into dinner. By Sunday night he was a nervous wreck, expecting someone to come at him with a fist or a kick at every turn and the friends decided to ease back and help him out.
He sat down on Hermione’s bed, everyone here, “Draco, we’re not trying to make you paranoid-...”
Sniffing and fiddling with the sleeve of his robes, “Well you’re failing miserably.”
Rolling her eyes, “But we are trying to help you keep from getting your ass kicked in class.”
Sighing and throwing himself back on the bed, arm over his eyes, “I’m not any good at this...there’s no
point...”
Cassie crossed her arms, leaning against the wall, “I beg to differ.” Everyone shifted over to look at her, Draco peeking at her, “You’re all in dueling class, yes? Well what happens if both you and your opponent are disarmed, then what? I’ll tell you, it’ll be the one who can physically stomp on the other that will win. If you don’t learn this now, Draco, Nott and others like him are going to walk all over you. I’ve talked to the professors. The ones with excellent scores in DADA get promoted to DAPA and dueling, then on to Auror Basics...that’s a long time of those creeps kicking the shit out of you.”
Draco groaned and covered his face with his hands, “I HATE this...”
“Why?”
He didn’t even look to find out who’d asked, “Because I’m miserable at it. I’m miserable in DADA and I’m miserable in this...
Harry frowned, “No you’re not.”
Snorting, “Yes, I am. I’m...” Shaking his head, “Doesn’t matter.”
Hermione had a feeling it did, “You’re what, Dray?”
Pansy studied her nails when Draco didn’t say anything further. But she knew. She knew only too well and she’d stayed silent long enough, “Because he’s not the best...and Malfoy’s never come in second. So if he’s not the best then there’ s no point in making the effort...right, Draco?”
Draco looked up at her, “Pans-...”
Shaking her head, “Oh, no, not this time, Draco. You’re going to hear all of it because I’m going to tell them all of it. James Potter was the best in Defense when Lucius was in school. And he hated your father for it. And no matter how much he tried or how long he practiced, Potter always beat him. So Lucius beat into Draco that if he couldn’t beat you, if he wasn’t the best, that he was the worst and he was worthless for it...right?” Draco looked away, “So every time Nott or anyone else takes a hit at him in Defense, he just believes it a little bit more...don’t you?”
“Stop it, Pans.”
Sighing in exasperation, “Dra-...”
“STOP IT!” She was taken aback but held her tongue. He looked at her with such hurt and betrayal before he growled and fled the room. She closed her eyes and sank to the floor, head in her hands. She’d screwed up. He’d told her that in confidence when he was younger. She wasn’t ever supposed to tell.
Draco hated Defense Against the Physical Arts (DAPA) with a capital H-A-T-E. Hate, hate, HATE! And not just because he sucked at it, even though he did. He was in a class of second and third years and he was doing worse than the second years. What was the point of using your body when you had a wand? It didn’t make sense to him and he didn’t like it.
Harry and Ron weren’t afraid to get dirty. They threw themselves at each other. And yes, he’d done the same but that was tickling...playing. It wasn’t fighting. He didn’t do things like that. He used his mouth and his wand, he did not lower himself to physical rough housing. Even Hermione, Merlin bless her, was better at this and that was the worst of it.
He mimicked the poses, that he could do. He learned the proper way to hold himself. Position. Balance. But putting it all together just didn’t make sense to him and frankly he was fed up. Tired. Bored! He sighed and kicked the ground, wandering over with the other students to form a circle around the fighting arena. Well, it wasn’t an arena so much as a padded section of the ballroom. Not that it would protect you from the other student. Joy.
“Mr. Nott.”
He glared at the Slytherin as the cocky bastard swaggered into the center. The bastard picked up the
instructions but added his own little nasty tricks and the instructor didn’t correct him on form or anything. What was the point of instruction if you could just make it up as you went?
“Mr. Dumbledore.”
He received pats on the back and sympathetic looks but steeled himself, stepping into the center. Nott smirked at him and he felt his gut clench. He was getting his ass beaten twice by this guy and he hated it, “Now, remember the rules. No hits below the waist, only hands and feet. Ready?”
No.
“Begin.”
Nott fell back on his right foot before swinging his fist forward. Direct hit. Draco saw stars and clutched his mouth, feeling blood pool into his hand from his busted nose.
“Time.”
Nott snickered but moved back while the teacher came forward, carefully lifting Draco head to see the damage. Damaged but not broken. He flicked his wand and the pain stopped, the blood clotting though his face throbbed, “Sit this one out. Weasley, you’re up.”
Draco grunted and stumbled slowly through the crowd, finding a seat and sitting down. Ow.
***
Harry and Hermione shared a look. They had to do something. It’s not just that Draco was falling behind in class. He had to learn to defend himself or the Slytherins were going to pounce on him. Or someone else would come along. Hermione thought to herself for a moment before a sly look crossed her face. She gathered her best friend close and whispered in his ear. And so it began.
At breakfast, before Draco could enter the Hall he was accosted by his friends. Cassie moved to punch him and he cringed. But she stopped short, Harry moving Draco’s hands to the correct position and when she moved again she encountered his hands. He was given slaps on the back and dragged, confused, into breakfast. Lunch time Hermione came at him with a back hand and he leapt back. Ron caught him and dragged him back, moving his hands and body and again Hermione moved, blocked.
By dinner time he was starting to get the point and at dinner he didn’t even flinch when Ron moved to punch him in the gut. So he was surprised when he was pushed to the floor and looked up, confused. Harry and Hermione moved to help and Ron put his foot down, “No. He gets up himself or he doesn’t get up.” The redhead shook his head, “I don’t pull my punches much now get up.” Draco slowly rose, looking wary, “Block me.” He moved again and again Draco was on the ground, this time his backside a bit sore. Shaking his head, “We’re going to
do this until you do it right. If we miss dinner then so be it.”
Hermione moved to speak and Harry put a gentle hand over her mouth, shaking his head. He understood.
Glaring, “I don’t find it necessary to fight.”
Ron glared back, “I do you pussy now block me.”
Slapping the floor and jumping to his feet, “I am not!”
Snorting, “You take a beating every Friday, now you’re letting me, the weasel, push you around? You’re a pussy or a masochist and you’re pathetic.” He moved again and this time Draco blocked, then followed through with his own fist that would have hit his target had Ron not seen it coming and caught it.
Grinning at the justified fire in his friend’s eyes, “Better, mate. Much better.” Draco cocked his head, frowning as he was dragged into dinner. By Sunday night he was a nervous wreck, expecting someone to come at him with a fist or a kick at every turn and the friends decided to ease back and help him out.
He sat down on Hermione’s bed, everyone here, “Draco, we’re not trying to make you paranoid-...”
Sniffing and fiddling with the sleeve of his robes, “Well you’re failing miserably.”
Rolling her eyes, “But we are trying to help you keep from getting your ass kicked in class.”
Sighing and throwing himself back on the bed, arm over his eyes, “I’m not any good at this...there’s no
point...”
Cassie crossed her arms, leaning against the wall, “I beg to differ.” Everyone shifted over to look at her, Draco peeking at her, “You’re all in dueling class, yes? Well what happens if both you and your opponent are disarmed, then what? I’ll tell you, it’ll be the one who can physically stomp on the other that will win. If you don’t learn this now, Draco, Nott and others like him are going to walk all over you. I’ve talked to the professors. The ones with excellent scores in DADA get promoted to DAPA and dueling, then on to Auror Basics...that’s a long time of those creeps kicking the shit out of you.”
Draco groaned and covered his face with his hands, “I HATE this...”
“Why?”
He didn’t even look to find out who’d asked, “Because I’m miserable at it. I’m miserable in DADA and I’m miserable in this...
Harry frowned, “No you’re not.”
Snorting, “Yes, I am. I’m...” Shaking his head, “Doesn’t matter.”
Hermione had a feeling it did, “You’re what, Dray?”
Pansy studied her nails when Draco didn’t say anything further. But she knew. She knew only too well and she’d stayed silent long enough, “Because he’s not the best...and Malfoy’s never come in second. So if he’s not the best then there’ s no point in making the effort...right, Draco?”
Draco looked up at her, “Pans-...”
Shaking her head, “Oh, no, not this time, Draco. You’re going to hear all of it because I’m going to tell them all of it. James Potter was the best in Defense when Lucius was in school. And he hated your father for it. And no matter how much he tried or how long he practiced, Potter always beat him. So Lucius beat into Draco that if he couldn’t beat you, if he wasn’t the best, that he was the worst and he was worthless for it...right?” Draco looked away, “So every time Nott or anyone else takes a hit at him in Defense, he just believes it a little bit more...don’t you?”
“Stop it, Pans.”
Sighing in exasperation, “Dra-...”
“STOP IT!” She was taken aback but held her tongue. He looked at her with such hurt and betrayal before he growled and fled the room. She closed her eyes and sank to the floor, head in her hands. She’d screwed up. He’d told her that in confidence when he was younger. She wasn’t ever supposed to tell.