The Golden Boy's Blackmail

Chapter seven

Harry was the first to wake up the next morning, and cuddled close to Draco, burying his face in Draco's shoulder. It felt nice and warm, and coaxed Harry back into sleep. Draco awoke a mere fifteen minutes after that, and hugged Harry close. He then strained his eyes to look up at the clock, instantly regretting it. He hurriedly tried to move Harry without waking him, but the brunette stirred anyway.

"Draco? You look panicked, are you okay?" Harry asked, putting his glasses on.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm just late for tutoring." Draco shed his night robes and pulled his uniform on.

"Tutoring?" Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "But you're a stellar student."

"Yes, well, sometimes I need help too." Draco leaned down and kissed Harry's cheek, "I'll see you later." And he was out the door before Harry had finished a yawn. Harry shrugged and walked back to his commons, devising an excuse as to why he was out all night.

Draco ran as fast as he could to Professor Snape's room. He was almost ten minutes late, and he knew Snape wouldn't be very forgiving about it. He stopped before the door and caught his breath, then walked in. Snape stood up from his desk,

"Where on Earth have you been, Draco Malfoy? You're lucky I didn't leave after you weren't here when I came in, what can excuse this tardiness?"

"I-I slept late," Draco lied, and regretted it instantly. Snape scowled, walking closer.

"First you're late, and then you lie to me. If you pulled something like this at home..."

"I'm sorry, Professor, I shouldn't have lied," Draco pleaded meekly. Snape raised his wand, and Draco flinched, but Snape simply pushed Draco's hair behind his ear.

"Your ears are red. I know what you've been doing," he sneered. "You've been messing around with your friends again. Who was it this time, hm? Blaise? Flint?"

Draco simply nodded, hoping he don't ask more. He would be mortified if Snape discovered it was Harry he was 'messing around' with. Snape very well may tell his father, and Draco shuddered at the thought of what he'd do.

"Filthy child... that's no way for a gentleman to act. How do you expect to find a suitor for the Malfoy estate after your father is gone? No woman would want a man who slept around with men in his school years."

Had it been anyone else, Draco would retaliate. He wouldn't sit here and take this. But with Snape in front of him, he simply cowered.

"Come, now. We haven't much time left because if your lateness." Snape grabbed Draco's wrist and pulled him up to his bedchambers-slash-office. He threw Draco onto his bed and pulled from his bedside drawer a slender-handled whip, provided by Lucius Malfoy for just such occasions as this. The whip itself was leather from a graphorn. Infused inside of it was phoenix down, so that when it cracked, sparks and flamelettes flew out.

Draco knew what to do, having been up here many times before. He removed his shirt with his back to Snape, where his pale skin was already covered in scars and burns from the whip. He sat up straight, gritted his teeth, and waited for the first lash. It came quickly, and the light from the sparks lit the dark room. Draco hissed softly, not daring to let Snape hear it, and shut his eyes tight; but still he sat up straight as a soldier.

"You're pathetic," Snape scowled, delivering another blow with his whip. Draco hardly heard it over the deafening white noise in his head. He counted silently the lashes, knowing Snape would do between five, ten, and Merlin forbid twenty. When the eleventh crack burnt Draco's spine, he was slouching slightly and panting hard. Between the fatigue of his night with Harry and the pain of the whip, he didn't know if he could make it to the twentieth lash.

Then came the twelfth hit. Harder than the last, hotter than the last. It shot up Draco's spine with roaring pain, escaping from his lips in a shout. And then the tears came. Draco hated himself for crying, hated himself for being weak. But they slid down his cheeks with ease, making Draco tremble. It hurt. It hurt. And he wanted it to stop.

"Professor, please!" Draco choked, and for a moment, the whipping ceased. Draco caught his breath, vision blurred with tears.

"Please what?" Snape hissed.

"Have... mercy, please..." Draco panted. A hand came tight around his throat, cutting off his air as he gasped to no avail.

"Do you think that once you leave this school, and are thrown into the real world, any wizard who has it out for you will show mercy? Do you think mercy exists between enemies? Surely if you do, you are more of a disgrace than we thought possible." Snape released his grip on Draco's throat, and Draco heaved, nauseous from the lack of oxygen. "Get out of my sight."

An immense amount of shame came over Draco as he pleaded, "Wait, please I can take it, finish the session!"

"You're as coward who could not take even twelve lashes and begged for me to stop. Now..." Snape leaned closer, glaring daggers at Draco. "Get... out... of my... sight."

Draco looked down, swallowing his pride and whispering the all too familiar, "Yes, Professor Snape." And then he left, and the pain on his back wasn't the only pain he felt.