Chapter IX: Justice for Draca Malfoy

 Chapter IX: Justice for Draca Malfoy

After Professor McGonagall escorted Draca to the Slytherin common room, she found Professor Snape was missing. “He must be out on patrol, probably looking for you, Miss Malfoy. Nothing else for it. I’ll leave Professor Snape a note in his office. Straight to bed with you.”

Draca was so excited, she couldn’t get to sleep. She kept picturing herself, holding up the house cup. First thing tomorrow morning, all the Gryffindor’s would know that they’d just been annihilated from the competition, and word would spread quickly. The famous Harry Potter, and a couple of his stupid first year friends, had lost their house one-hundred and fifty points in one night. 

When the first light of dawn peeked through Draca’s curtains, she basked in the glory of it. Without bothering to change out of her pajamas, she skipped toward the Slytherin common room, hoping to find Crabbe and Goyle. It was empty, except for the towering figure of Professor Snape, who had a note clutched in his hand. “Miss Malfoy. Last night, you were out of bed, well past midnight.”

Snape spoke the words as if they were a simple statement of facts, not a question.

Draca brushed aside her bangs. “Yes, Professor. Now Slytherin’s a shoe-in for the house cup. It’s quite a story. Why don’t I tell you all about how–”

“To my office, Miss Malfoy.” With surprising strength, Snape grasped Draca by the wrist, and led her along behind him. Snape was limping badly on one leg, but even so, Draca struggled to keep up with his pace.

Snape’s office was a dimly lit dungeon. Beneath the ancient stone arches that encircled the room, Snape had furnished it with his own desk, library, and advanced-level potions equipment. After Snape released her, Draca rubbed her wrist. “I can tell you’re eager to hear what happened?”

Snape spun slowly to face Draca. “Miss Malfoy, do you recall Professor Dumbledore’s strict instructions to the students not to go wandering about the castle unsupervised?”

Draca scowled. “Yeah, but I wasn’t anywhere near the third floor corridor.”

“That is not the point. Already this year, we have had an attack by a mountain troll. How do you suppose that got past the castle’s defenses?”

“Dunno. Maybe that half-giant oaf forgot to lock a door or something.”

“Hogwarts castle is protected by far more than stone walls and iron gates, Miss Malfoy. There is an old magic that protects the school. Not to mention Professor Dumbledore’s very presence acts as a check on the dark forces.”

“Yes, well, Dumbledore’s getting a bit daft in his old age, isn’t he?”

Snape raised a hand with a jerk, trembling, then slowly lowered it. Confused, Draca stared at Snape’s hand, before she suddenly realized he’d just been about to slap her across the face. “Professor?”

“Do not insult Albus Dumbledore in my presence ever again, Miss Malfoy. Do not speak at all, unless I ask you a direct question. Our world is not safe. There are creatures in this world that would devour you alive if you ever encountered them. Hogwarts can only remain safe because its headmaster and the teachers stand guard over it.”

“So is that what happened to your leg, Professor?”

Snape’s nostrils flared, before he turned and began to clear away some of the objects on top of his desk. “Miss Malfoy, there is a set of potions equipment on the work table. Find the wooden stirring spoon, and bring it to me.”

Curious, Draca fetched the spoon, wondering if Snape was going to give her some tips on how to properly stir potions. But the moment she held it up for him to take, Snape reached for her pajama pants and tugged them down neatly with one clean yank. Then, Snape sat on his desk, scooped up Draca by her armpits, and bent her over his left knee, and delivered a firm slap across her bare bottom.

Draca yelped, more from surprise than pain, and tried to twist off Snape’s lap. “S-Snape? What are you–”

Snape cut her off with another hard spank, and Draca roared. 

Snape’s voice was surprisingly cold. “Hold still, Miss Malfoy.”

Draca started to kick her feet wildly in the air behind her. “Y-you can’t do this to me! Once I tell my father, he’ll see that you’re–”

Snape began to spank at a steady, relentless pace. His palm felt firm and heavy, and every single swat covered most of Draca’s slender backside. “As the Head of Slytherin House, I most certainly can do this to you. And I will be writing your father myself, to inform him of your shameful behavior, Miss Malfoy.”

“Noooo, please, Snape, don’t!”

Snape spoke slowly, emphasizing every single word with a ferocious spank. “Do. Not. Speak. Out. Of. Turn. Again.”

Draca gasped and squealed after every swat. Already, she felt tears building up, making her vision blurry, and desperately resisted the urge to cry.

After the last word, Snape paused. “Now, Miss Malfoy, let’s try again. You will not speak unless asked, and you will refer to me only by the title of Professor, or sir. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, Professor!”

“Good. I see we are making progress. Hold tight onto that spoon, Miss Malfoy. I will need it momentarily to finish your punishment, and I expect you to demonstrate perfect obedience, and hand it to me when instructed.”

Draca’s eyes popped open, and suddenly she saw the terrible wooden spoon in a new light. “No, no, no! Not that! Anything but that! Please don’t spank me with–”

WHACK!

Draca reared back her head and howled like a werewolf, kicking up her feet to cover her bottom. “Aawwoooo!”

“I can see we will have to work on correcting your attitude, Miss Malfoy. The first law in my house is: do not bring shame to the name of Hogwarts, nor to your fellow Slytherins, nor to yourself. Lower your feet, Miss Malfoy. Now.”

Dropping the spoon, Draca flailed her arms at the desk, knocking a stack of books to the floor, before she dug her nails into the polished wooden surface. “No! I won’t do it! You can’t make me! I’m—I’m a Malfoy!”

Snape groaned. “Pathetic.” 

Then, Snape easily brushed aside Draca’s feet, and pinned her legs tightly in place with his right leg, and landed a hard slap, smack across the center of her bottom. Draca snarled, her voice rasping as she tried to kick free, but she could only manage to wriggle her toes.

“Draca Malfoy, you should be completely ashamed of yourself. You cannot bargain your way out of this. Let’s see if another round will help make that message clear to you.”

With that, Snape began to spank at a slow, steady pace. Draca gasped, and tried to say something, but all that came out was a gurgle that sounded like, “Gunna-git-choo!”

But when the spanking didn’t stop, Draca quickly broke down into ugly, uncontrolled sobbing.

Draca’s mind went blank, except for the horrible awareness of the painful fire building across her bottom. It seemed to go on and on, but finally, the slapping sounds paused, and Draca could dimly make out Snape’s voice. “That should do for a warmup. On your feet, Miss Malfoy.”

As Draca opened her eyes, blinking past a mist of tears, she found Snape had set her on her feet, and shakily bent over to pull up her pajama pants. Snape caught her wrist. “No, do not bother to get dressed. You are still in a state of disgrace, Draca, and will remain so unless and until I see an improvement in your attitude. Stand up straight, and fold your hands behind your head.”

Her lip quivering, Draca obeyed. Glancing down, she saw her pajama pants in a heap across her ankles. Her only comfort was that her pajama shirt was long enough to provide her some small degree of modesty at the front, though it barely covered her hot, stinging bottom from behind. 

Then, Snape waved his wand, and the back of Draca’s shirt slowly lifted into the air, folding itself neatly against the small of her back to fully uncover her bright red behind. In horror, Draca glanced over her shoulder. The angry red handprints contrasted sharply with the usual snow-white color of her flesh.

“Look me in the eyes, Miss Malfoy,” snapped Snape.

Draca tried to obey, but as she looked into her favorite teacher’s eyes, she wanted to melt into a puddle. This was hell!

Snape let the silence hang for a few moments, then nodded. “Now, let’s try this again. Hopefully, you are willing to listen to reason, for your own sake at least. Why did I punish you, Miss Malfoy?”

“Buh-b-be-because, I s-snuck out of b-b-bed… s-sir?”

“Incorrect. That little spanking was just to remind you not to talk out of turn, and to address me properly. Now, take a good look at the state of my work desk.”

Draca did, and saw the state of disarray left by her struggle. The books were now scattered across the floor, and her attempts to scrape free had left long scratches in sets of ten along the top of the desk.

Snape pointed to the books. “Pick up the books, Miss Malfoy, and put where they were before.”

Her face burning, Draca bent over to pick up the books, painfully aware of the cold air of the dungeon against her blazing hot bottom. “B-but, Professor, I d-don’t know what order they should be stacked in, sir?”

Draca winced, wondering if she’d just earned herself another beating, but Snape actually smiled. “Never mind about that. Just stack them neatly.”

After Draca finished, Snape pulled out his wand, and gestured to the scratches. “You also damaged my desk in your foolish, ultimately futile attempt at escape. This is an antique. Fortunately for you, ordinary damage is simple enough to repair with magic.”

Snape tapped the tip of his wand against the desk, and the scratches started to mend themselves. Draca stared in awe. Snape hadn’t even uttered an incantation.

But Draca’s delight at the display of advanced magic vanished the moment she noticed the stern look on Snape’s face. “For over a thousand years, corporal punishment has been the traditionally favored form of discipline at Hogwarts, going all the way back to the time of the four founders. Although I disagree with some of Professor Dumbledore’s more eccentric theories on educational reform, I respect his position as headmaster, and therefore will not use the cane on you, Miss Malfoy. Thankfully, I still have been left some authority over you as Head of Slytherin House, so I will punish you to the fullest extent allowed by the school rules. When a student violently resists being punished, that is immediate grounds for additional punishment. In extreme cases, even expulsion.”

Draca’s knees trembled. “Oh, P-please, Professor—”

“No, Miss Malfoy. I did not ask you to speak.”

Draca shut her mouth with a snap.

Snape glared at Draca, then tapped his desk. “Of course, it’s not likely I’ll have to resort to expelling you. Your behavior during your first spanking was abominable, but not unusual for a first year. Are you caned at home, Miss Malfoy?”

Draca felt fresh tears welling up in her eyes. Her greatest shame was how frequently she had to be caned at home, even at her age. And according to her parents, Draca would never be too old for the cane. When the other students had asked her about home, Draca had always lied, and said her parents were pushovers. She wanted to lie to Snape, but only the fear of more punishment made her answer truthfully. “Yes, Professor.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? From what I remember of your father, that makes sense. He strongly favored the use of the cane at Hogwarts. He’s made his position quite clear to the Board of Governors. Ye, this is very strange, Draca–if you are used to being caned at home, why did you raise such a fuss over a simple spanking?”

Draca felt a shiver travel up her spine. Of course, her resistance had probably earned her yet another spanking today. “I… I’m sorry, Professor.”

“I have not asked you to apologize yet, Miss Malfoy. I have asked you to explain yourself. Can you think of any possible defense for your behavior?”

Draca shook her head. “N-no, sir…”

Feeling stupid, Draca stared at the floor.

Snape sighed. “Let me hazard a guess, Miss Malfoy. Perhaps you were under the impression that, because I have praised your work in Potions class, that means that you never expected to be punished by me. Do you suppose that, by awarding you points for your answers, and not–for example, Miss Granger–that I was playing favorites with you?”

Draca blinked. “Well… weren’t you playing favorites, Professor?”

“I favor Slytherin house, Miss Malfoy. I make no secret of that, not even to the other teachers. It is only right for the Head of House to look after the interests of their own students, as their first priority. It’s been something of an ongoing debate between myself and Professor McGonagall. She is of the opinion that I ‘play favorites’ with my students. As much as I respect her opinions, as a first-rate witch and fellow teacher, I’m afraid I can’t help her to see the distinction. I never play favorites with my students, Miss Malfoy. I favored your work in potions, because you show an actual talent for the art.”

Draca felt fresh tears in her eyes, but strangely, she realized she had never felt quite this happy all year. “You mean, you actually think I’m good at potions?”

“I think your work in potions is perfectly adequate, for a first-year. If you apply yourself, you may well go far, Miss Malfoy. But do not for a second think that, just because I praise your successes in one class, I will not also hold you accountable for your failures. For instance, that childish temper tantrum you displayed during your first spanking,” Snape tapped his wand against the desk, “was beneath the dignity of a Slytherin. If you were only a second year, I would cane you myself. Fortunately, I have a less severe punishment at my disposal. Turn around, Miss Malfoy, and bend over. Hold on to your knees, and keep yourself steady, just as if you are preparing yourself for a proper caning.”

With a fresh pang of embarrassment, Draca obeyed. She was all too familiar with this position. During a real caning at home, if she so much as flinched, her father would add an additional stroke to the total. Nervously, Draca glanced over her shoulder, wondering when Snape was going to start spanking her. But to her surprise, she saw Snape casually pointing his wand at her. “Fac paulum pungat.”

Suddenly, it felt like a hundred wasps were all stinging Draca’s bottom at once. With a howl, she jumped into the air, clutching her backside, and danced wildly in place. Then, Draca stiffened, and immediately bent over to reassume her position, clutching her knees. “Sorry, sir!”

Snape sighed. “You left position again. Honestly, Draca, that was only a minor stinging jinx. I imagine you must earn yourself plenty of extra strokes for flinching, when you are caned at home?”

Sniffling, Draca nodded. Snot was starting to run down from her nose. “Yes, sir. Sometimes, sir.”

“Then from now on, I expect you to improve yourself. The stinging jinx only produces a smarting sensation. Unlike the cane, it will leave no lasting damage. I cannot let you off a lighter penalty, Miss Malfoy. So, show some resolve, and hold your stance. If you ever hope to become a powerful witch, it is essential for you to develop mental discipline. Now I have to give you another dose of the stinging hex. I expect you to hold perfectly still. Do you understand, Miss Malfoy?”

Fresh tears spilled down Draca’s face. Why, oh why, did she have to be so pathetic? “Yessir…”

This time, she didn’t hear Snape use the incantation. It was only when she felt the blazing heat start to ripple across her bottom that Draca realized the hex had hit her. It was much worse than before. Draca screamed, but forced herself to hold still, her knees knocking, before a second wave of prickling, which overwhelmed the earlier heat. This time, it felt like she was being paddled by a particularly pokey, and particularly livid, living cactus. 

Draca made a choking noise, then melted into ugly crying. She stood in place for a few moments, and strolled around her to look her in the eye. “That was much better, Miss Malfoy. You see? You are perfectly capable of maintaining your concentration. You only require proper motivation. Stand up, please.”

Awkwardly, Draca straightened herself. Snape causally flicked his wand, and Draca felt her pajama shirt flop back down to cover her bottom. She almost felt grateful, before she noticed that the cloth only tickled her throbbing backside.

With a nod, Snape put his wand away. “Now, we may finally begin your real spanking, Miss Malfoy. Are you prepared to accept it?”

Draca tensed. “B-but, Professor! You already spanked me, twice! Then you hexed me twice! That’s four separate punishments!”

Snape shook his head. “Your initial spanking was for your disrespect. You earned the additional punishments for showing deliberate defiance, and disobedience. You have now been adequately disciplined for those failings. The last matter we need to discuss is your wandering out of bed. Do you understand why you still need to be punished?”

Draca’s face flushed red again, but this time, it was from pure anger. “N-no, sir!”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “I see. Then I will explain it again. Hopefully, we won’t have to start your spanking all over again, from the beginning, to get through to you. Tell me, Draca, what do you believe would be a fair punishment, for getting caught wandering around the castle at night?”

Confused, Draca’s started to argue. Maybe she could talk her way out of another spanking? “Not this! This is completely ridiculous, Professor. McGonagall already punished me when she caught me! I got put in timeout! I got detention! I lost twenty points! Potter and his friends all got caught sneaking out of bed, too. Why am I the only one getting spanked?”

As she noticed the dangerous look in Snape’s eyes, Draca quickly remembered her manners. “Please, Professor, I don’t understand… sir.”

Snape nodded. “In the first place, you do not know what punishment Professor McGonagall has in store for her own students, nor is it any of our business. Though McGonagall doesn’t favor the cane as much as I do, she can be quite the strict disciplinarian. Think, Draca. Once the rest of Gryffindor house discovers what Potter did, how do you expect him to be treated?”

Draca pouted. Did Snape think she was stupid? “They’ll treat him like dirt. It’s all his fault they’re going to lose.”

“Exactly. The house cup is more than just a simple trophy. For seventh years, it acts as a final mark of distinction, cementing their place in Hogwarts history. For the oldest students, it is considered particularly shameful to lose the House Cup. For sixth years, winning the House Cup determines eligibility for the position of Head Boy and Head Girl in their final year. Professor McGonagall is perfectly aware that by punishing her own house so strictly, she has exposed her own students to public shame. It’s quite devious, really. 

Snape gestured to his office. “Answer me, Miss Malfoy. Where are we?”

Draca scrunched up her face. “Um–In your office, sir?”

“Precisely. That means I have chosen to grant you the dignity of privacy. However, Draca, if I catch you wandering the halls at night again this year, I will punish you in the Slytherin common room. Regardless of who is present, I will instruct you to bare your bottom, take you across my knee, and spank you like a naughty child. If you resist, I will simply force you to comply. I don’t care if you’re in your seventh year. And if it happens ever again after you finish your first year, you will get an additional caning, and I will ensure the entirety of Slytherin house are gathered to witness your humiliation. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Draca felt her stomach lurch. “You… you can’t be serious, sir?”

Snape’s face didn’t betray a hint of doubt. “This is not a threat, Miss Malfoy. This is a solemn promise. Now, with that in mind, would you prefer to submit to your final spanking willingly, here in my office, or shall we continue this discussion in the common room?”

Draca swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’ll obey, sir!”

“Then fetch the wooden spoon from my desk. I warned you that I expected you to offer it to me when it was time, and the time has come. March, Miss Malfoy.”

Draca didn’t hesitate. She had to stand on her tip-toes to reach the spoon, then held it up to Snape. He took it, then pointed toward the high backed chair in front of his desk. “Kneel on the seat, and hold the back of the chair to support yourself.”

The moment Draca crawled up onto the seat, she felt the back of her shirt being magically lifted up again. Of course, the real spanking would have to be on the bare bottom. There went her last shred of dignity.

Snape tapped the spook against Draca’s bottom, gliding the smooth wood in small circles along the angry, raised welts left by the stinging hex. “Finally, Draca, we may begin. You lost twenty points for Slytherin house. Therefore, I believe twenty strokes would be a sufficient punishment. Before I begin, do you have anything to say in your own defense?”

Draca’s ears perked up. Snape’s tone of voice wasn’t cruel. It was almost encouraging, like he was testing her knowledge in potions class. 

This was a test.

Taking a shaky breath, Draca dared to answer him frankly. “Yes, sir. I don’t believe I deserve twenty strokes. Frankly, my plan to catch Potter lost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty points in one night. If you think about it, that means I’ve gained a hundred and thirty points for Slytherin.”

“Your logic is faulty, Draca. In the first place, has it occurred to you that, if you simply did nothing, Potter and his friends were likely to get caught anyway?”

Draca tensed. That did blow a hole in her argument. She tried to keep her voice steady, using the bored, drawling voice she’d learned from her father, that marked her nobility as a pure-blooded Wizard. “Well, the only reason Longbottom got caught is because he overheard me talking about my plan. So… no, Professor. It’s only because of me that Gryffindor is behind, right now. At least… we’re thirty points up, thanks to me.”

“You may have gotten lucky, Miss Malfoy, but it was hardly what I’d call a cunning plan. Why didn’t you simply bring the matter to my attention?”

“B-because, you seemed so busy, Professor. You’re always out of the common room.”

Snape tapped the wooden spoon across Draca’s bottom. To her discomfort, she noticed the stinging from the hex still hadn’t entirely faded. She didn’t think she could bear another swat without breaking down completely, let alone a full twenty strokes with the spoon. “That’s because I actually have a good reason to be patrolling the castle at night. I do not have time to deal with my students playing detective.”

Draca’s curiosity was piqued. She wondered if this had something to do with Snape’s leg getting injured after Halloween, but her sore bottom was a keen reminder not to test Snape’s patience any further. “Yes, sir.”

“Furthermore, although your actions did indeed hurt Gryffindor, that is not the same as helping your house. We have still lost points against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Perhaps I should give you forty strokes for that, but subtract the thirty we gained on Gryffindor?”

Draca’s eyes went wide at the mention of forty strokes, until she understood the trick hidden in Snape’s question. Was he was offering to lighten her punishment, if she only agreed to admit fault? “We both know that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are too far behind us this year. Twenty points aren’t likely to make a difference.”

Using the spoon, Snape delivered a series of steady taps, with more firmness. The message was clear. He was about to begin. “A single point can make all the difference, Miss Malfoy. If you simply admit you were a complete fool, I will be merciful, and lower the number of strokes to fifteen. Otherwise, you will get the full twenty. If you have any argument to make on why you don’t deserve that many strokes, this is your last chance to defend your position. Be convincing.”

Draca swallowed. “I… I’ve earned fifteen points this year in Potions class. So, really, that means I’ve only lost Slytherin a net of five points. Therefore, I should… I deserve to get five strokes, sir.”

And as Draca uttered the last words, she discovered that she really meant them. At this point, it would be an insult if Snape let her off with anything less.

“Intriguing reasoning. Very well, Miss Malfoy, I will let you off with only five strokes. But if you leave position, even once, you will get the full twenty I originally promised you. I expect you to count each one. Are you prepared?”

Draca nodded. “Yes, Professor Snape.”

The moment that Draca felt the first swat from the spoon, her calm resolve vanished. Her bottom already ached. But the spoon had a heavy weight to it, as if it was biting deep into her buttock. Not only that, it instantly reawakened the tingling sensation from the earlier stinging hex. Draca roared, but clung tight to the chair. “One, sir.”

After the second swat from the spoon landed on her other buttock, Draca felt her tears returning, and rested her forehead against the back of the chair, seething. “Two, sir.”

Draca felt the spoon impact across her left sit-spot, just below her lower left buttock. Draca let out a gargling scream, tears and snot spilling freely into her mouth. Gasping, she slammed her head softly against the cushioned back of the chair, hating it. 

She didn’t want to cry again. Not after she’d worked so hard to put on a brave face in front of Professor Snape. But she couldn’t stop the tears.

Then, Snape landed a fourth stroke, across her right sit spot. Draca choked, and quickly counted. “Three, sir! Four, sir!”

“No, Miss Malfoy. The last stroke was just for dawdling on your count. Repeat your count, at three.”

Draca whimpered, a snot bubble bursting at the end of her nose. “Yes, sir. Three, sir.”

The next stroke landed immediately, aimed at Draca’s left sit spot again. Draca cried once, then started to weep softly. The crying felt different than before. Earlier, she had been half-screaming in a panic. But now, the fresh tears felt almost gently. Draca was too exhausted to pretend anymore. “F-Four, sir.”

The next stroke landed across her right sit spot, and Draca wailed loud and long. Then, fighting past her tears to catch her breath, she managed to spit out. “Five, suh-s-sir!”

Then, Draca felt her pajama shirt fall back down, covering her behind. She twisted to look behind her, and saw Snape gesturing to the ground. “Your punishment is over. You may get dressed, Miss Malfoy.”

Blushing furiously, Draca pulled up her pants, then stood sheepishly on the cold stone floor. For some strange reason, Snape’s office seemed much bigger than she remembered it ever being. “I’m sorry, sir. For disappointing you.”

“There’s no need for sniveling apologies, Miss Malfoy. You were a fool, and you’ve paid the price for foolishness, and that’s the end of it. Of course, you still have detention with Professor McGonagall. I will not intervene on your behalf in that matter.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you may go, Miss Malfoy.”

Draca clutched the hem of her shirt. “Wait! Please, sir, are you really going to write to my father?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Of course. It was you who threatened to complain to your father about your treatment. I assumed you’d want him to be informed as soon as possible.”

Draca held up her folded hands. “Oh, but, sir… please, don’t tell him! If Father knows about what I did, he’ll… he’s going to beat me!”

Snape barked. “Cease that whimpering, at once!”

Draca tensed, then hung her head. “Yes, sir.”

Snape let the moment hang. “I know your father’s habits very well, Draco. He took me under his wing when I first started at Hogwarts. If your father decides you need another caning, that is simply his business. It is also his full right to punish you, as your father. Wouldn’t you agree, Draca?”

Draca sniffed. It was no use arguing. She was doomed. “Yes, sir.”

“How often are you caned, Draca?”

“About once a month, usually, sir. More than that, if I do something really bad. Whenever I bring shame upon the family name.”

“And do you believe you deserve to be caned, Miss Malfoy, for losing Slytherin house five points?”

Draca wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. Did Snape simply take delight in tormenting her? Then, she steeled her breath, and looked Snape in the eye. “No, sir. But I know it’s your decision, sir. I won’t argue with it.”

Then, to Draca’s astonishment, Snape put a hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Draca. You took your last spanking with as much dignity as could be expected of a first year, so that’s the end of it.”

Draca’s mouth hung open. “You’re not going to write my father?”

“I was planning to at first. If this were a more serious breach of conduct, I’d have no choice. But we’re not going to need to repeat this discussion anytime soon, will we, Draco?”

Draca took a shaky breath. She wanted to jump on Professor Snape and kiss him, but she knew that wouldn’t be dignified. “No, sir!”

“Then I’m satisfied that you have been spanked more than enough, for one day’s worth of misdeeds, at least. Contrary to popular opinion, I do not enjoy punishing students. It is an annoying distraction for more useful pursuits. You are free to go, Miss Malfoy. I assume you have homework, and I expect you to be able to brew a perfect Forgetfulness Potion in class next week.”

Draca bounced on her heels, smiling. “Yes sir! I won’t disappoint you, sir!”

For a few moments. Snape didn’t answer. “Draca, get out of my office.”

Feeling relieved, and only a little stupid, Draca hurried for the door.

When she reached the common room, Draca found Crabbe and Goyle sitting on the sofa, staring at her with cow-like eyes. “You all right, Miss Malfoy? You’re up early,” said Goyle.

“We wanted to go to breakfast, but didn’t know where you was,” said Crabbe.

Ignoring the lingering ache in her backside, Draca stood to her full height, and scoffed. “Bah! Can’t you idiots feed yourselves, without me telling you where to go and how to use the utensils? Get going, you clods.”

Crabbe and Goyle stared at each other, then followed Draca out the door.

With a smirk on her face and a spring in her step, Draca strode the entire way down the dungeon corridors. When she reached the Great Hall, she spotted Potter and Granger, leading an exhausted looking Weasley, whose arm was wrapped in a sling. To her delight, she could see that Potter looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept all night.

Draca snapped her arm at them. “Good morning, Potter! Thanks a lot! Slytherin is in the lead for the house cup, and we owe it all to you!”

To Draca’s delight, Potter looked away from her, shaking. Ganger hid her face behind her hands. Was he actually going to cry?

Then, Weasley elbowed Potter in the ribs, and snickered. “Nice jammies, Malfoy.”

Draca glanced down, and finally noticed she’d forgotten to change out of her pajamas.

Potter, Weasley, and Granger all burst out laughing.

Her face burning, Draca covered herself, then ran away, shaking her fist. “Laugh it up, Potter! You won’t be laughing when Slytherin wins the house cup!”

Back in the common room, Draca buried her face in her hands, before Crabbe and Goyle arrived behind her. “Is this part of the plan to get back at Potter, Miss Malfoy?” asked Goyle.

“Shut up, Goyle.” Draca sighed. At least she knew Professor Snape didn’t hate her. That was some small comfort. 

Then she thought of the torment that Potter was in for the rest of the school year. That was a great comfort indeed.

***