Draco's Protector

Title: Draco’s Protector
Author: Ras
Rating: Fan Rated Adult Only (equivalent to NC-17) for excessive violence and graphic descriptions of child abuse
Pairings: Severus/Draco (in a parental way, not a sexual way)
Feedback: Please leave a comment. I would love to hear from you.
Author Notes: This story came into my head while watching Chamber of Secrets. I always wanted to know why Draco was whining for attention in the infirmary scene after the Quidditch match. It seemed out of character to me, so I made up my own little story of why he would act like that. Please note that I have taken some liberties with the story, for example deciding that Snape is Draco’s godfather. Also note that the descriptions of child abuse are graphic, so please don’t read this if that is going to bother you.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, Draco, Severus, any HP characters, or copyrighted words that appear in this story. I make no money off this story.

Chapter Notes: This chapter concentrates on the hurt part of the hurt/comfort. It is by far the most graphic chapter. Poor Draco gets hurt pretty bad in this chapter. But, you were expecting that after he left Severus' chambers with an enraged Lucius, weren't you? As promised, I plan to continue this story to a happy ending, but the hurt has to come before the comfort. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

Special thanks are due to my betas/friends PhoenixFeather, ChaosGoddess, and LadyKorana. Not only did they contribute awesome story ideas and help with my grammar, but they really pushed me to make this chapter better. For that I am truly grateful.

Chapter 6

Draco followed his father out of Severus’ chambers. As if to show Severus that he could do whatever he wanted, Lucius swung his walking stick and smacked Draco across the back with it before closing the door. They took a few steps, and Lucius hit him with it again. They walked as Draco had seen his father walk with Dobby before, giving him a smack every few steps just to reinforce who was in charge. Draco was terrified. Yet, he knew that he had made the right decision; he wouldn’t have been able to live without his father or his godfather. But, Draco did not want the punishment he had coming. It was going to be the worst punishment he had ever received. Not only was he going to be punished for losing the House Cup, but several of the evening’s events were going to make the punishment even worse. His father had already been enraged before he had even set foot in Severus’ room because of what had happened with Potter. Severus had only managed to anger him further by convincing Draco to disobey his father and by fighting with Lucius himself. Draco knew that the anger Lucius was feeling from all of these events was about to be let out directly on his backside.

Draco continued to follow his father, up the stairs now. He dreaded seeing that awful room again. The first time there had been bad enough. He tried not to think about what his father was going to do to him, about what implement from the wall he would select, about the curses he would use. Instead, he tried to focus on the positive. This time was different. Now Severus knew what was happening to him. And, although that was embarrassing, it meant Draco wouldn’t have to lay in that horrible room all alone with his pain, and he wouldn’t have to try to hide his injuries in the Slytherin dorm. Once his father was finished with him, Draco would simply push his panic button, and his godfather would come for him. Although Draco was sure he had made Severus very angry when he chose to go with his father, Severus had shown him that he would still come if Draco pushed the button. He would comfort him and care for him, and Draco wouldn’t be alone. Draco could survive the punishment with that thought in mind.

Upon reaching the main level his father turned towards the entrance hall and not towards the stairs that led to the seventh floor. Confused, Draco looked up at his father. He worked up the courage to ask, “Where are we going, Sir?”

Lucius laughed, “Home.”

Draco froze. His heart seemed to stop; he felt dizzy; he thought he might collapse to the floor. His father was taking him directly home? But, then he wouldn’t have Severus to comfort him after the beating . . . and he’d be all alone, and his father could beat him much more severely. No one would have to see him for weeks if his father kept him caged up in his room at home. Lucius could punish him much, much harder if he didn’t have to be in classes the next day. “But school . . .” Draco tried.

“Exams are cancelled, and it’s not like you’re going to learn anything from just hanging around here for a few days. And besides, I think I need to get you away from that bad influence.”

Draco couldn’t stop himself from sobbing softly as he followed his father out of the castle, away from his protector.

At Malfoy Manor

The impact of the hard metal snake head from his father’s staff into his cheek bone caught Draco off guard. He hadn’t anticipated the punishment starting so soon; the manor door wasn’t even closed yet. The blow hit him while he was completely unprepared. Quickly loosing his balance, Draco crashed and skidded across the floor while clutching his cheek. Tears sprang to his eyes. Lucius had slapped him once before, but this was the first time serious bruising to his face would be involved. His cheek was throbbing now; the pain radiated towards his eye. But, besides the enormous pain, this did not bode well for the upcoming punishment. His father obviously didn’t care how bruised up Draco’s face got, which meant Lucius wasn’t planning on Draco going anywhere or being seen by anybody for a really long time. That was definitely a very bad sign.

“Get Up!” Lucius hissed.

Reluctantly, Draco forced himself to his feet, still feeling a little bit wobbly. He had to quickly obey his father to show him that he still knew the rules and didn’t need further punishment to teach him. And, he had to keep his tears inside. He couldn’t let his father see him crying.

“You should have seen that coming. Now come here and brace yourself for some more,” Lucius snapped.

“Yes, Sir,” Draco whispered. He tentatively took careful steps towards his father, prepared for the next strike. It was obvious that Lucius was making him come to him for more punishment to teach Draco a lesson.

The silver metal slammed into Draco’s cheek again, but this time he managed to remain upright; although, he did stumble back a step. He couldn’t stop his hand from reaching up to cradle his cheek, but Draco did force himself to immediately step back closer to his father.

“When I tell you to come, you COME, no hesitation!” Lucius raised his cane high and rammed it into the side of Draco’s skull. Draco’s vision began to cloud in and out, but he could still see the anger in his father’s face. “Am I understood?” his father asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Draco replied. The nod he gave unexpectedly caused a surge of pain in his head. It felt like his brain was sloshing against his skull, and he was somehow even dizzier than he had been already.

“Then go wait in your room for your punishment. I STRONGLY suggest you use the time to reflect on what you’ve done wrong.”

Draco walked slowly up the stairs to his room. He wanted to get away from his father’s grasp as quickly as possible, but the foyer spun around him with each step he took. He gripped the dark wood banister like a lifeline as he continued to climb. Finally reaching the third floor, Draco ran his hands along the wall to keep his balance as he stumbled to his chambers.

Opening the door, he hoped to feel some sort of familiar comfort in his room. He did not. The enormous room felt empty and shallow. It was a room fit for a prince, but he didn’t feel like a prince. He felt like a prisoner. He was about to be beaten and trapped in this room. There was nothing comforting there at all.

Sighing, he staggered to his bed. At least the room stopped spinning when he stopped moving. He gingerly applied a little pressure with his fingertips to his cheekbone to determine if it was broken. He wasn’t sure. But, he definitely had a concussion, and his punishment hadn’t even started yet, not for real. Draco began sobbing in earnest; he had such a bad thrashing coming. He buried his face in his pillow, ignoring the shame he felt for letting the tears fall. His entire body shuddered with the ferocity of his cries as he finally let out the emotions that had been building all night. He was in so much trouble. He felt so scared and alone. He longed to be back in his safe place, in Severus’ quarters. He had been so stupid to leave his godfather’s protection; so stupid to think that his father would simply take him upstairs for a single, however brutal, whipping when he had committed such a flagrant act of disobedience; so stupid to think that he would have a chance to return to Severus’ comforting embrace. No, his father was going to beat him within an inch of his life for this; and he had let his father take him home, away from anyone that could help. He immediately thought of the panic button still inside his pocket. If ever there were a time for panic, this was it. Pushing it would let Severus know he was in trouble and that he had been removed from the castle, but . . . where would that leave him? He didn’t think Severus would be able to penetrate the manor defenses to reach him, and even if he could, Severus would start a fight with Lucius again, exactly where they had started. As much as Draco felt like being a coward and getting out of this punishment, he still didn’t want to risk the possibility that Lucius might kill his godfather.

He closed his eyes and tried to decide what he should do. There really was nothing to do except to try to appease his father, to somehow decrease his rage. He decided to go stand in the corner. Yes, his father would like that, if he showed how remorseful he was before the punishment even started. Moving made him dizzy, and he wasn’t sure how long he would have to stand there, but he was certain that the self-depreciating act would please his father. He contemplated going ahead and stripping, but decided against it because he was afraid he’d lose his balance. Draco rested his forehead against the wall. He was so tired already. He put his hands behind his head and rested his elbows up against either wall for support. A ragged sob escaped his throat. He knew that he had to stop crying before his father came up. Crying meant further punishment, and that was the last thing he wanted. He took slow deliberate breaths and tried to force his emotions down like he had done countless times before. He bit down on his trembling lip until the sobbing lessened. Slowly, the tears stopped falling. His father had taught him well.

Lucius had told him to contemplate what he had done to deserve punishment. Emotion almost overtook his control, and the tears threatened to escape his watery eyes as he could almost hear his godfather’s voice telling him that he didn’t deserve it. Although he had started to believe his godfather’s words, he couldn’t think like that anymore. He had to go back to the way things were; he did deserve the abuse. His father would have a long list of offenses, and his best bet to lessen his upcoming whipping was to make that list exactly what his father wanted to hear. The start of his list of transgressions was easy enough: loosing the House Cup, not earning Slytherin enough house points, disobedience . . .

Draco couldn’t help thinking about what punishment he could expect as he worked on the wording of his list. He knew that his father would whip him with some sort of implement. Lucius needed to express his anger, and a physical whipping was the best way for him to release that anger. Draco thought he would probably use a belt, since over the years Lucius had determined that Draco dreaded it the most. The belt didn’t cut quite as deep as the cane, but it bruised more and wrapped around and cut into places a cane couldn’t reach. Of course, Lucius might still choose a cane; it was Lucius’ favorite implement to express his rage with. Or, he could use something else entirely. Draco wondered if his father might not use some of his more creative punishments. His father had employed quite a few unique torture spells over the years. One particularly bad one Draco recalled made him see his deepest fears as if they were reality. At the time, he had been afraid of spiders. He could still vividly remember the terror his four-year-old self had felt at having spiders crawling all over his skin. He supposed the punishment had been effective. He had learnt his lesson, learnt not to let anyone see his weakness, and he wasn’t afraid of spiders anymore. Draco wondered if his father had noticed how afraid he was of something happening to Severus. But, if his father did use the Mirage Spell, he would just have to remember that he knew Severus was safe at Hogwarts. Yes, he could endure that torture, and he thought he could tolerate most of the other curses his father had used on him when he was younger.

The real concern was that he was certain he could expect more of the Cruciatus. The thought of even a second more made him feel weak and nauseous. He had never imagined a spell could cause such agony, but now that he knew what it felt like, he was truly terrified. He was sweating, and his stomach was churning from the mere thought of it. And then Draco realized it. His father hadn’t sent him to his room to allow time for his temper to recess or to allow Draco time to contemplate his wrongdoing. No, Lucius had sent Draco to his room because he knew that the anticipation of pain could be as effective a punishment as the pain itself. Standing there thinking about what more of the Cruciatus would feel like was torture in and of itself. He didn’t want the punishment to start, didn’t want his father to open the chamber door; but standing there with his hands folded behind his head for what seemed like forever anticipating the punishment was wearing down his defenses.

Finally the door opened, and Lucius entered his room. “Standing in the corner, Draco? I hope you don’t think that this show of repentance is going to make up for your attempts to avoid punishment earlier. However, I will take it to mean that you’re finally ready to accept your punishment. Now COME HERE!”

Draco turned around. He couldn’t steady his shaking body as he walked towards his father. The throbbing in his head made him stumble. His father pointed at the bed and commanded him to “Sit!” so Draco sat trembling from his shoulders to his knees.

“What’s the matter, Draco? Are you scared?” he asked in a mocking tone. “Going to go cry to Severus about what I do to you?”

“No, Sir,” Draco whispered.

“Crucio,” his father said as if it were just any other word. He held the curse for only the briefest moment before he stopped it. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir,” Draco let out a hitching breath. His body was already in agony after only a few seconds of the curse. Just another second of it and his insides would be on fire, and there was certainly much more to come. Draco wanted to be brave, to take the punishment in a way that would please his father, but he couldn’t. It hurt so much. He couldn’t take it, couldn’t take anymore of the Cruciatus. Draco didn’t even realize tears had escaped his eyes or that a sob had escaped his throat until Lucius roared, “Are you CRYING?”

Draco shook his head, more out of fear than as an actual denial. He quickly reached to wipe away the tears, but not quickly enough. Lucius grabbed his wrist and roughly wiped a couple of tears from his cheek. “Then what are THESE? I know that I have taught you that you NEVER show weakness, Draco!” Lucius shook his head with disgust. “I see I am going to have to break you of so many bad habits your godfather has taught you. Tell me, Draco. What lies has Severus been telling you? Did he tell you that it’s okay to cry? Did he tell you that you are a good boy? Did he tell you that you don’t deserve this? Crucio . . .” Indescribable pain filled Draco’s body again for just a few brief seconds before his father stopped. “Well, you tell me, Draco. What do you think? What do you deserve?”

Draco swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He knew what his father wanted to hear. “I deserve to be punished, Sir,” he said, and inside, a little part of his heart died.

“You deserve to be punished. Yes, you certainly do. But, why do you deserve to be punished, Draco?”

“Because . . . because . . .” Draco stuttered. God, he had this list down pat when he was standing in the corner. Why was he now fumbling for the right words? “Because Slytherin lost the House Cup, because I didn’t earn Slytherin enough points, because I disobeyed your orders, because I did not live up to the Malfoy name, because I’m weak, because I’m pathetic, because I’m worthless, because I let others see my weakness . . .”

“How about because you hid behind your godfather while I was trying to punish you? Or because you somehow managed to turn my ally of over 20 years against me?” his father asked with malice in his voice. “Crucio,” he said, and this time he held the curse as Draco writhed in agony. It was somehow worse than the first time. The excruciating physical pain inside and out was the same, yet still worse. He now knew how the nerve fibers would burn more and more with each passing second, how his brain would start to overload if the curse was held longer, what the next stage of pain was. Like before, he eventually lost all control of his body, and the tremor overtook him. His insides still felt like they were on fire. But, this time he had no hope that his father would end it quickly. Draco could think of little other than the all-consuming pain, but he could realize that his father was going to hold the curse unrelentingly until Draco’s body or mind eventually gave out. And this time, there was no one to come and help him. Severus wasn’t there to stop him, but finally Lucius did end the curse of his own will.

He used the time Draco spent paralyzed in pain to flip him over onto his stomach and to begin his lecture. “I have ALWAYS done everything to look out for YOUR best interest. You need to be strong for the future, Draco. You need to know that failure has consequences. I have tried to teach you lessons so that you will be a powerful, respected wizard someday. I have NEVER hit you without cause. How dare you go to Severus and convince him that I’m some kind of monster that just enjoys hitting you. Am I to be faulted because I want to be able to be proud of my son?” He paused, taking a deep breath. When he continued, his voice was hoarse with suppressed anger. “Well, for the record, the Cruciatus was for disobeying me and this punishment is for losing the House Cup. Failure, no matter what the reason, means punishment. Let’s start by teaching you that lesson again.”

Lucius put his wand back inside the staff, raised it high above his head, and began to beat his son senseless with the rod. He slammed it over and over again into Draco’s back. He was hitting so hard, every single blow was excruciating. Minutes passed with nothing but the sound of the cane thumping into Draco’s back. Thoroughly covered in bruises now, Draco finally regained control of his body. He tried to turn to move the blows off his spine. He could now see Lucius’ face, which was bright red with anger; his eyes were bulging; and he had his teeth gritted with pure rage. He didn’t even seem to see Draco as he continued to violently slam the staff into his son’s side. Lucius was putting his entire body into the effort now. How many blows had it been? How many more would it take before Lucius tired himself out? Draco couldn’t hold back his screams now. He didn’t even care about the shame that brought. All that existed in his world right then was the pain and the continuous wallops. Eventually, Draco heard a distinct crack, and he knew his father had fractured one of his ribs. That didn’t stop him, though. Lucius continued to beat and beat and beat. Another strong blow to the side resulted in a second crack, and suddenly, Draco was having difficulty breathing. “Don’t you ever, ever, ever disappoint me again. And, if you ever hide behind that godfather of yours again . . . I swear Draco, I will kill him.” For the first time in his life pain was a friend to him, because after another whack to the ribs, Draco passed out.

Three Days Later

Draco existed in a state of utter misery. He was lying curled slightly on his less injured side, cautiously listening to the sounds of shouting below. Unable to hold it any longer, Draco coughed then tried to get his breath back. At some point over the last few days, his father had used some sort of dark magic to make him sick. He fluctuated between fever and chills, and he had an awful cough. The cough coupled with his broken ribs made breathing next to impossible.

“Small, sippy breaths,” he reminded himself. A tiny breath in and a tiny breath out was all his lungs were capable of. Anything deeper and his poor broken ribs were unable to handle the expansion. He would continue breathing just barely in and out, just enough to keep his brain oxygenated, until eventually the effort of simply breathing would exhaust him. He’d finally have to give up and stop breathing for a few seconds. His brain demanded that he take another breath, but his fatigued abdominal muscles refused to respond. Then the cough would start, and he would begin all over again. He had nothing left in him, no energy, no hope.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made Draco panic. No, he couldn’t take anymore. Draco listened all day for the sounds, shouting or movement; all of it was a clue to what was going to happen to him next. His father was still furious with him, and if something happened to aggravate him, he would storm up the stairs and further punish Draco. Sometimes the steps would be a lighter sound, his mother’s footsteps. Draco had expected her to comfort him as she had before, but she did not. She came only occasionally to clean him up and to offer him some water and a hard piece of bread. He attempted to sip at the water, but it was difficult when he was still fighting so hard for breath. He made no attempt at the bread; he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat. He did try to talk to her a couple of times, but she simply shook her head at him and nervously glanced at the door. Draco wondered if she hated him now, too, but the look in her eyes wasn’t anger. She seemed sad.

Draco couldn’t suppress a whimper as the heavy footsteps reached the top of the stairs. The callous look on his father’s face immediately informed Draco that he was not there for a reprieve. The door slammed behind him. He gave his son a cold penetrating stare that revealed nothing, but his lower jaw was trembling slightly and he was clenching and unclenching his fists. It appeared to Draco that Lucius was in an awful rage, but that he was actually trying to control himself and not unleash the full brunt of his anger on Draco. Draco wasn’t sure what he could have possibly done or why his father was so angry, but the sight of his father actually trying to restrain himself was somehow even more terrifying than normal.

Finally, Lucius found his voice. With great effort he finally hissed, “I hope you are happy.” A lump visibly shifted down Lucius’ throat as he swallowed. He was still clenching and unclenching his hands, ready to pounce at any moment.

“S-S-Sir?” Draco questioned, truly confused. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew it was bad, really bad, and he knew he couldn’t take much more pain or punishment.

“Do you know who that was?” Lucius responded, his voice still low and forced.

“No, Sir,” Draco replied truthfully. Whoever it was, the visitor involved in the shouting match downstairs had infuriated his father. Draco wasn’t sure exactly how he was involved, but he could tell that he was about to be punished yet again. His body began to tremble, partly due to fear and partly from the enormous pain his body was already in.

“That was a representative from the Ministry of Magic. Do you have any idea why he was here?”

“No, Sir,” Draco shook his head slightly. His head exploded with pain from the gesture. At the same time a sharp stabbing pain in his chest made his grimace as his body attempted to keep up with the increasing oxygen demands the adrenaline rushing through his body required.

“Of course you don’t,” Lucius practically spat the words. “He was here to search the manor. But, amazingly he walked directly to the trapdoor in the drawing-room floor. Now tell me, Draco, how do you think he knew exactly where our family keeps its darkest secrets? How did he know, Draco?”

“Please, Sir, I don’t . . . I don’t know,” Draco pleaded. He had no idea how someone from the Ministry had found out about their hidden chamber, but he had a hunch how his father thought the ministry had found out.

“Who did you tell, Draco? Hmmmm? Who did you betray your family secrets to? I know it wasn’t Severus; he would have sent someone up to check on you. So, who did you betray your family to, someone with a vendetta against this family? McGonagall? Or Dumbledore?”

“No, Sir!” Draco gasped in horror. He struggled ineffectively to refill his lungs so he could deny the statement further. “I would . . . never . . . betray you.”

“You’ve already proven that you would. Now tell me the truth and maybe I won’t use the Cruciatus on you until you forget everything you’ve ever known. WHO DID YOU TELL?” All attempts at restraint were gone; Lucius was ready to unleash his fury.

Draco’s mind began racing, trying to figure out how in the world someone at the Ministry found out. He tried to focus on finding a solution instead of contemplating the new pain his body was surely about to experience. How could someone have found out? His parents wouldn’t have been stupid enough to let it slip to anyone, but Draco was the only other person that knew the secret location, and he knew he hadn’t betrayed them. He hadn’t told anyone except Severus and . . . “Crabbe and Goyle,” he reluctantly muttered. He remembered now, he had mentioned it to them around Christmas time. But, they wouldn’t betray the Malfoys to the Ministry. Their fathers were both loyal friends of the family as well. Surely the knowledge had to have come from elsewhere.

“Crabbe and Goyle,” Lucius sighed. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, appearing almost relived, but when he opened them the icy ferocity had returned. “You trusted one of your family’s most important secrets to those two dunderheads. Obviously they let the information out to the wrong person. Luckily the Ministry was stupid enough to send someone that could be bribed. Your mother and I could have been sent to Azkaban tonight, Draco. Did you think about that at all when you were stupidly boasting to your friends?”

“Please, Sir,” Draco tried to think of something to say to defend himself, but his brain wasn’t quite functioning normally. He had never meant to do anything to harm his family. But, his father was right; somehow this was his fault.

“You know what you deserve, don’t you?” Lucius began, his voice wavering slightly with the anger he couldn’t conceal.

Draco desperately wanted to say no. He knew he couldn’t handle much more pain, but he knew the right answer. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered.

“Say it,” Lucius commanded.

“I deserve to be . . . punished some more, Sir. For . . . for disobedience . . . and for stupidity,” he obligingly replied. “Please give me . . .” It was so hard to ask his father for yet another punishment; he wouldn’t be able to handle the pain. He knew he had to ask for it; he had to tell his father what he wanted to hear, but he was already hurting so much. He couldn’t breathe. Every inch of his skin was already bruised and welted. Fever and fear overtook him. “Please, Sir . . . I know . . . I have to be . . . punished, Sir . . . But, please . . . please . . . Father . . . please . . . I . . . I can’t . . .” Draco stopped dead. He had done the unthinkable. He had asked for mercy. He heard his father draw a deep breath and braced himself for the blow which would certainly come down on him any minute.

“Do you know why I am doing this, Draco?” Lucius asked in a voice that was so calm, it was terrifying.

“Because I was bad . . . and I . . . I deserve to be punished,” Draco reluctantly admitted.

“But, why do I care that you were bad? Why am I expending my energy on correcting you?”

Draco had to give this question some actual thought. “Because . . . you want . . . me to learn . . . to make me . . . better.”

“Exactly,” Lucius replied. “Now, I think you know what you should do.”

Draco strangled a sob in his throat, but he could not stop his voice from quavering as he asked, “Please give me . . . my punishment . . . so that I may learn, Sir.” It was becoming harder and harder with each successive whipping to remember his godfather’s words, to believe that he didn’t deserve it. Each time he said it, each time he was punished; it was harder to believe he didn’t just deserve constant pain. After all, his father was punishing him so that he would learn, so that he would be stronger, and maybe . . . just maybe because he cared?

Satisfied with the response Lucius simply gave the order, “On your stomach.”

Draco immediately obeyed; although, his bruised ribs sent a searing pain through his body in protest to the movement. Lying on his stomach put stress on his ribs, and that was excruciating. Breathing was suddenly much, much more difficult. All of the air was just caught in his chest, and he couldn’t seem to move the air in or out. He shifted his body to put just a little bit more weight on his left side so his right ribs wouldn’t have to handle so much pressure on them. Finally he was able to suck in a small breath. Knowing the agony that was coming, he tried to get as comfortable as physically possible with his injuries. He reached up and clutched his pillow with his left arm and buried his forehead and right cheek into the pillow so that he could hide any upcoming tears from his father. A simple spell from Lucius left Draco naked, and his pajamas pilled neatly on the dresser. His naked body trembling in anticipation of the first blow, Draco squeezed harder on his pillow and tried to make himself keep breathing. He had to be brave; he couldn’t let his father see how afraid he was; couldn’t let him see his weakness.

He heard the sounds of Lucius opening the cabinet of punishment implements he kept in Draco’s room. Draco didn’t dare look back to see which item his father had selected for fear of him seeing the tears that were already flowing down his cheeks. He was left wondering what implement it would be this time. He heard a spell being cast, words Draco didn’t recognize. The curses always hurt worse than the blows. He knew something very bad was about to happen to him, but there was nothing he could do but wait for the pain to start.

Draco gasped at the first lash, but managed not to cry out. It was a belt, a heavy thick one used for severe punishments. This belt always left Draco covered in deep bruises when his father was done. After the second lash, Draco realized that something was different. Draco had received enough of the belt in his life to be intimately familiar with it. He knew exactly what it should feel like. The spell his father had cast had somehow changed the belt. In addition to the normal sting and lasting ache the belt caused, there was something else, a lingering fire. After several more whips, the first welt was still burning as if acid had been poured on the skin there. Lucius continued covering Draco’s back, bottom, and legs with the blows. His entire backside burning with pain, Draco couldn’t take anymore. His body was shaking uncontrollably now, especially his arms which were still wrapped tightly around his pillow. He was trying to concentrate on his breathing, in and out. He was breathing so fast now, trying to somehow keep the oxygen flowing even as his throat was closing off with his cries. “Uhhhh,” a moan finally escaped his tight grasp. He couldn’t take anymore; the pain was too intense, but there was nothing he could do. Begging didn’t work; crying only brought more punishment. He couldn’t even keep breathing through this kind of agony.

Unable to cope with the pain anymore, Draco suddenly felt the comforting embrace of his godfather’s arms around him. “Shhh, he’s almost done, Draco. Just keep breathing for me,” the hallucination whispered in his ear. A few more blows came as an imaginary Severus continued to hold and comfort him. Then, as had happened so many times in the past few days, Draco found himself blacking out into unconsciousness.

Later That Evening

Through the haze of his delirium Draco thought he heard a female voice, but he was drifting in and out of consciousness, so he couldn’t tell if the voice was real or what the voice was saying. Sometimes he saw Severus next to him; sometimes he thought he saw his mother. He wasn’t sure what, if any, of his visions were real. It seemed like someone was touching him, but he wasn’t sure if that wasn’t his imagination as well. Sudden pain from a firm hand pressing on his ribs made him gasp. For a fleeting moment things seemed clearer. His mother was checking his injuries and pressing on his ribs. Draco couldn’t help crying out. His body started convulsing at the sudden intense pain in his ribs. Draco moaned with the tremor.

“Shhhhh,” Draco thought he heard his mother soothe. Then her hand was softly grazing his cheek to calm him down. He had to be hallucinating then; his mother never granted him physical affection. But, she looked real as she worriedly glanced at the door.

“Lucius,” she said. Her eyes went wide as he entered the room.

“Checking on him again, Narcissa?” he asked in a cool tone.

“I am,” she said, firmly holding her ground.

Lucius looked as if he might attack her for a moment, but then he relaxed his clenched fists and turned away. “How is he?” he reluctantly asked.

“The ribs are definitely cracked, Lucius. His breathing isn’t getting any better.” Her voice sounded tense and concerned.

“It’s a pity he forced me to do this. I truly hadn’t planned on having to punish him this severely, but after his actions . . . what else could I do? I’m still not convinced that the punishments are actually getting through to him, but I can only hope that he will actually learn his lesson this time.”

“I’m . . . I’m concerned about him, Lucius. I know he deserved a very severe punishment for what he did, but . . . he can’t breathe, Lucius.”

“I am concerned about him, as well, Narcissa. I do still care about him. He is our sole heir after all.”

“Then . . . will you call a healer?” she asked. “Just to fix his ribs,” she quickly added. “He will still be in enough pain to teach him a lesson, Lucius. But, he has to be able to breathe. Please . . .” she pleaded.

“Perhaps after a few more days,” Lucius conceded. “I want to be sure he realizes the seriousness of his actions.”

Draco didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, if it had been a real conversation at all. He was feeling feverish again. The room went black as he struggled to kick the blankets off his legs.