The Malfoy Chronicles

Uh-oh. This chapter is a bit harsh. Not for the faint...



MidnightLilly ~ You're going to hate Draco even more after this chapter, but don't worry. Draco is going to get what's coming to him, and the shock of his life to boot.

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Draco dragged the crying girl up a flight of stairs to her room. He ignored her begs and protests. He shoved open the door to her room, and flung her inside. She hit the ground with a pained grunt, and looked up at her father.



“Oh, papa. Please believe me. He’s lying…” Draca sobbed. Draco stepped inside the room, and closed the door. Her breathing came in shaky sobs. “Papa….” She said softly.



“Useless girl…” he said. He was contemplating how he should punish her today. Only a few days ago he’d had to cane her for trying to set an ant hill on fire and then becoming upset and smashing her doll’s porcelain face when her brother wouldn’t let her. What had really upset him was when she tried to blame it on her brother. He rested his hand on his belt. He could use that. No, because it didn’t deliver enough sting in his opinion. He opted for the trusty cane.



“Go fetch the cane, Draca.” He said firmly. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened as if she were going to say something. “Now!” he barked, and she scampered away from him. She went over to her chest-of-drawers, and opened the bottom drawer. Draca called it the ‘Torture Drawer,’ because all of the instruments inside were used to torture her. Inside were the dreaded cane, a leather strap, and a small wooden paddle. She picked up the long cane with shaky fingers. Tears streamed down her face as she took the cane back to her father. She handed it to him, and stepped back, awaiting her instruction.



“Go to the stool.” He said, motioning to a high wooden stool in the corner of the room that he used for her punishments. She walked slowly over to the stool. “Bend over it.” He said, and she obeyed, using one of the wooden foot rungs to climb high enough to where her hips would bend. “Now, Draca, my dear…why are you here?” he asked, twirling the cane in his hand as he approached her.



“B-because you told me to come…” she said softly. The cane sliced through the air with a terrible whistle and struck her firmly on the back of the thighs, just below her bottom. Even through the material of her skirt, the can stung terribly, and she shrieked in agony.



“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Why do I have to punish you?” he said, his voice low but deadly.



She gasped for breath through her sobs. “B-because I m-made a mess in th-the dining r-room.” She sobbed, wanting terribly to clutch the fresh stripe on the back of her legs. But she knew from experience that any attempt to relieve the pain would only cause more stripes. So instead she clutched the edge of the rounded seat of the stool.



“Correct.” He said, and then flipped up the edge of her little skirt over her backside. The place where he had just struck her was an angry red, contrasting with her pale white skin. He could see her trembling visibly. He swung the cane through the air, creating the terrible whistle, but not connecting with flesh. Draca jumped, expecting the pain, but it didn’t come. “How many stripes do you think you’ve earned for that little display?” he asked her, and began twirling the cane again.



“I…I don’t know papa,” she sobbed. He regarded her with contempt.



“I think five will do, don’t you?” he asked. “Yes, you created a mess, but it can be cleaned. I’m more interested in why you constantly try to blame your brother…” he said. “Can you tell me why, Draca?” he inquired, putting his face down level with hers.



“No, papa, because I don’t know.” She replied. She was trying to come up with an answer that she thought would satisfy him. Clearly she had failed, because he withdrew his face.



“Because you’re jealous!” he said, and planted another stripe on her, this time directly on her bottom. She shrieked again. “Oh,” he said, and put his face back down to her. “Those two don’t count.” He said, and straightened back up. “Are you ready to take your punishment, you mischievous little wench?” he asked. Draca knew better than to do anything except nod silently.



The cane came down with a crack once more on her backside. She squealed with pain. “One! Thank you papa…” she sobbed, explicitly following the guidelines he’d laid down from her previous punishments. Another crack. “Two! Thank you papa.” She sobbed, barely able to draw the breath in to speak. Crack. “Three! Thank you papa.” Crack. “Four! Thank you papa.” Her crying grew more violent and her little body shook from the force of her sobs. She was just glad he’d given her a reprieve from having to take the caning with a bare bottom. Her panties offered very little protection, but it made Draca feel a little better. She drew in a breath, anticipating the last blow, which always had more force than the rest. And she was right. The last blow came with such a startling jolt of fire in her backside that she almost fell off of the stool. “Five!” she screeched, and then sobbed sharply. “Thank you papa.” She added, and felt him flip her skirt back down over her burning bottom.



“Stand.” Her father said. She stood up shakily, and began to wipe her eyes. He extended the cane to her. “Put it up.” He said. She took the wooden instrument from him, and took it back over to the drawer, placing it back with its cruel friends. “Now. Have we learned a lesson?” her father asked her.



She nodded her head. “Yes papa. I’m sorry papa.” She said, still crying.



Without another word to his daughter Draco turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door once more as he exited. As soon as her father was out of the room, Draca clamped her hands on her injured bottom and did a hoppy little dance while still sobbing violently. She quickly threw off her little knickers to relieve some of the pressure on the raised welts. She rubbed the stripes gingerly, and then went over to her bed. She climbed on her pink satin bedcover, and pulled a gigantic white stuffed dragon close to her, sobbing into its long neck.



“Oh Mr. Dragon!” she sobbed, rubbing the plush head of the dragon. “Why does he hate me? You don’t hate me, do you Mr. Dragon?” she said, and paused as if waiting for a response from the toy. “I didn’t think so. Thank you Mr. Dragon.” She said, and hugged the toy. “At least you and grandmum care. I don’t know about Grandfather. He’s scary looking, but he’s quiet. I hope he’s nice.” She said, and paused again. “Really? You think so? I hope so.” She said again to the dragon, and laid her head against it. “Do you mind sleeping with me again Mr. Dragon?” she asked, and waited for a ‘reply’ from the dragon. “Thank you. You’re my best friend.” She said, and closed her eyes. And she fell into a restless sleep trying to ignore the fire in her bottom.



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Whew! This chapter was short, but strong.



Please review! And feel free to tell me how much you hate Draco. I hate him too! But don't worry too much about Draca. Lucius is about to take her side.