Harry was thrilled to take in Hermione’s lilting, sonorous breath when he stealthily nudged open the girl’s chamber door, centimeter by centimeter. She finally appeared peaceful and relaxed. ‘I haven’t seen her so calm since . . . before I was chosen fourth champion.’ As he allowed the earthy door to burrow itself closed again, a blush settled over his cheeks, and he smiled – a true, genuine, un-forced expression.

“Asleep after all?” Snape whispered. Harry’d not heard his approach, but was equally quiet as he startled, leaping backward. He forced a faint laugh.

“Didn’t see you there, professor.”

“You’re nearly as easy to startle as Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter. Shall we?”

Harry had to wonder at this night. Two in the morning, drinking warm Butterbeer and filling up on pasties and teacakes with his worst enemy while the greasy git hummed – yes, hummed! – and brewed the most complicated potion imaginable.

Snape noticed the silence near dawn. Harry was curled near the end of the bed, palm glued to his scar, while Draco lie kitty-cornered across the length of the mattress. Both pale faces held pained, worried expressions. ‘At least they’re asleep.’ With a deft swish and flick, both boys were covered with soft blankets, pillows fluffed.

After a few more painstaking hours of dicing, measuring, diluting, and simmering, Severus reluctantly woke Harry and shooed him off to breakfast.

Casting ever stronger silencing spells at quarter to two, the professor took a steadying breath. He’d finally finished the brand new concoction.

“Draco!” he scolded sharply, “Wake up, you lazy child! You’ve slept through breakfast!”

The boy woke with a start, trembling.

“I – I’m sorry, Professor Snape, sir!” he whined, groggy yet alarmed.

“Stop whinging and get up!” Snape commanded, removing his belt. Draco’s eyes widened timorously. Focusing on the dreaded instrument, he didn’t notice as the professor grit his teeth and swallowed sickeningly.

“Remove your trousers and bend over the bed, Mr. Malfoy.” It was a ghost of a statement, barely forced out of the surly mouth.

Draco did as he was told, inner monologue twisting and twirling. ‘You’re so stupid! Late for everything. You know better than to whine. You deserve this!’ The nasty little voice in his head was adamant, unrelenting.

The thrashing was far from the worst he’d experienced, but his heart took it harder than any before. Professor Snape had always told him how good he was and had never raised a hand to him – outside of the abhorrent dinner charades. Draco vowed to win back his godfather’s pride.

Abruptly, Severus ended the beating and retreated to the lavatory, muttering. Draco hadn’t been told otherwise, so he stayed put; at any rate he wasn’t yet ready to pull rough cloth over the crimson skin.

When the professor finally emerged from the loo, his face was entirely veiled, completely unreadable.

“Get cleaned up and dressed, Draco,” he called over his shoulder just prior to exiting the room.

The sound of a piano pealing precursively from a distant room in the baneful manor sent a slight chill up the professor’s weary spine as he descended the inadequate stairwell.

The kitchen was a bit crowded for Severus’ liking. Tonks sat stirring her tea with an idle twitch of a lazy pointer finger, scowling at the morning edition of the Prophet and cursing under her breath. Lupin sat cross from her, steaming chocolate in his hand, decidedly not scowling at his days old news, rather, furtively glancing at the metamorphagus’ latest teal-and-silver striped hair.

Another couple sat in the corner; Hermione’s head rested on Harry’s shoulder as he untangled one of the many knots in her hair. They were reticent, but not quite as sullen as usual. When they noticed the professor’s presence, a plate laden with enough food to feed the entire Weasley family was pushed his way.

The scene could have been cheerful, familial, to a casual observer. To Severus, it was misery barely harnessed; frightened souls clinging to one another like moss to the north side of the Whomping Willow.

He dropped to plate off beside his – Draco’s – bed, and took a moment to ponder the last time he’d actually slept.

“Eat, then study,” he droned, not looking at the tear-stained face. He was at the Leaky Cauldron in thirty seconds flat.

……………………………………………..

“Sangtus Specialis Plurimus,” intoned Hermione, shortly prior to tea. She’d been disappointed to miss the prior evening’s revel, so she volunteered to fetch a fresh batch of skele-heal from the professor’s room. Draco hardly acknowledged her entrance, as he was dreadfully intent on memorizing chapter six in the Potions text.

Hermione stood awkwardly for a moment, contemplating an opening line. She decided on pleasantries.

“Lunch not to your liking, Draco?”

His breath caught. “No, it was fine. I should’ve eaten more, but I, er . . .” His thoughts dropped off a cliff. After a few seconds of rather blank staring, Hermione interjected.

“Do you need anything, Draco? Is something wrong?”

Another blank stare followed, then, quietly, pensively, “I’m fine, thanks, Hermione. I mean, I’ll be fine. Dinner tonight at the m-manor and I know I’m in trouble.”

Sympathetic eyes and countenance drifted to sit beside the shaken boy on the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl soothed protectively. “I’d forgotten that was coming up this evening. Would you like help studying?”

He would, however since he’d just been punished, he surmised the professor would be cross if he was found with company. ‘The last thing I need is another lashing before tonight’s ordeal.’

So the reply to Hermione was a polite, “No, you’d better go. I’m just finishing up.”

“We’ll be here for you when you return, Draco.”

He nearly smiled.

She passed Professor Snape in the corridor, but he didn’t seem to notice.

………………

Severus paused outside his Grimmauld Place door, resolved to do as he must.

Fiercely flinching as the door to his sometime cage was thrust open, Draco’s fear was palpable. Snape did not look toward the boy, rather, immediately after reinforcing the charms for privacy, began shouting.

“It is the middle of the afternoon and yet you are still in bed. Laziness I will not tolerate. And look at all the food you’ve wasted! Get up!”

Snape transfigured a thick birch rod and mentally repeated the mantra, ‘It must leave marks. It must leave marks!’

Draco fought not to cry out.

All too soon, the pair of wizards was dressed regally and ready for a – formal – evening out.

Just prior to apparating, the professor hissed, “Keep your head down. Do not act surprised.”

They were whisked away to Malfoy Manner.

……………………………..

After Fiora nervously greeted the pair, Snape dragged Draco in front of him and violently shoved the boy. Lucius raised a quiescently pleased eyebrow at the scene as his son’s face met the stony floor.

“Lazy snot,” Severus seethed menacingly. “Get up!”

Head reeling twofold, the young Slytherin scrambled to his feet, glazed, hesitant grey eyes schooled at the marble beneath boots.

A chilling voice, one that never failed to inspire terror in his heir, countered, “Beginning to see my way of it, old friend?”

“Most assuredly.”

……………..

Draco stood ramrod straight, cradling his schoolbooks, throughout the lengthy dinner affair. He was rather glad he was not expected to eat anything. The previous ‘exams’ had been harsh enough with the professor on his side. Now . . . But he wouldn’t give internal voice to all the ‘what ifs’ of the night to come. He would survive it; he always did.

At one point, when his father and Professor Snape began to show signs of inebriation, he thought Narcissa glanced at him with something akin to concern in her eyes. Upon pondering this flitting of comfort, however, he realized she was most likely checking her appearance in the brass mirror over his shoulder. He was careful not to peer in the direction of the dinner party after that.

The intricate, wrought iron and crystal chandelier swayed in slow motion, giving the dining quarter’s current inhabitants an eerie, iridescent glow. Mouths framed in put-upon laughter shattered in wrinkled recognizance as the boy, blonde and proud at school, withered like so much cabbage in a drought. Everything on the move, it was; but in what direction?

Blood-red merlot snickered as it slapped the insides of men’s goblets; being led by its imbibers to the diseased study.

Draco’s impossible performance began.

He answered the first several extremely difficult questions correctly. Unnerved, Lucius announced Draco would be punished for his supposed misbehavior at school. The frightened child took note his father relaxed as he commented appreciably at his son’s already marked skin. Of course, this did not save the boy from the impending blows.

The moment the elder Malfoy was lasciviously engrossed in his rampage, Severus rose and fetched the man’s darker than red wine. Did he tip a hidden vial into the glass?

Handing the flushed, frenzied man his liqueur, Snape purred, “Why don’t you let me take over, old friend?”

Severus produced a rare, wry smile as Lucius swallowed his bait, right down to the last drop.

In a moment, the room’s candles glowed brighter, the moon shown more solidly, and the very walls held their breath.

“Refill my wine, Lucius,” Snape dared.

Draco was awestruck! Never would his father, Lord of the Manor, do any such thing. That was what house elves were for! Was Snape trying to anger him? To cause more brutality? ‘Have I been so disobedient Snape wants father to kill me?’

But his father mechanically rose and fulfilled the request. Snape checked the cheerful grandfather clock, then began spouting off orders furiously.

“Draco, get dressed. I’ve brought your wand. Take it, Draco! Lucius, kneel before me.”

Once Lucius knelt in front of Severus, they grasped right hands. Draco thought this looked like . . . but it couldn’t be!

More commands came. “Lucius, you will answer, ‘I will,’ to each of my statements. You will do exactly as I say.”

Robotically, Lucius spoke, “I will.”

“Draco, place the tip of your wand over our hands. Lucius,” Snape took a deep, steadying breath, “You will relinquish your parental rights to me and name me sole guardian of one Draco Malfoy.”

“I will.”

A wispy reed of brilliant flames wound its way round the pair’s hands. Draco looked up at Severus with tears gleaming in crystalline eyes. This entire ordeal was beginning to make sense . . .