The Path Ahead
Summer’s approach comes far too quickly.
Draco knows what to expect. What to prepare himself for. The training, the punishment, the meetings. Each year worse than the last.
Knowing what to expect doesn’t make it any easier.
The last morning before the holidays, the air feels warm and suffocating. Draco trudges to the Great Hall. Students buzz excitedly, discussing plans and events. Taunting him.
Just as he turns a corner, Draco catches a glimpse of a head of messy, dark hair and pushes his way through the crowd. He’d recognise Potter anywhere. “Excited to return home for the holidays, Potter?”
Harry doesn’t turn to acknowledge him. Draco laughs and shoves him forward. “Are you deaf?”
“Shove off, Malfoy,” Ron snaps. Draco shrugs and spins on one heel to walk the other way. Only moments later, someone slams their foot into the back of his knee, and he slams into the ground. Gritting his teeth, Draco gets to his feet. He feels a cold trickle moving down his arm and looks down to see an old cut reopening and a red stain spreading across his sleeve.
Turning around, Draco’s eyes widen slightly as he catches sight of the girl’s bushy brown hair and angry eyes. Hermione? He’s been injured by a Mudblood?
“That will be 10 points from Gryffindor for misconduct and violence, Granger. Be grateful that I can’t give you detention right before the summer holidays.” Snape steps in, grabs Draco by the arm and walks away from the crowd briskly. The boy sucks in a breath through his teeth and hisses. He tries to claw at Snape’s hand, but it’s clenched tightly around his arm.
“Let go.”
“Let go, Professor, or let go, sir.” Snape reprimands him. They’ve reached his office by now. Draco breathes a sigh of relief as Snape releases his arm. “Causing trouble on the last day of school? Not a good look on your part. I do have to report this to your parents, as you are aware.”
Draco stares at him. “What? But, Professor. Sir. You can’t–”
“I will,” Snape cuts in. He raises an eyebrow as Draco looks at him pleadingly. “As much as I show you favouritism in class, I owe a much greater deal of respect to your parents than to you, boy.”
“I don’t want to leave Hogwarts for the holidays. Professor, please.” Draco hates how much it sounds like he is begging. He refuses to acknowledge that, maybe, he is.
“Were you listening?” The dark-haired professor slams a hand onto his desk and repeats himself slowly. “I owe a much greater deal of respect to your parents than to you.”
Draco looks at him desperately, throwing away any sense of pride. “I can’t go back. I can’t. Snape–”
He slaps Draco across the face.
“I told you to call me sir.”
Draco stands up shakily to leave, stunned into silence. Out of anyone, he’d hoped at least Snape.. at least Snape would do something.
“Draco,” Snape calls out. Draco ignores him and walks out the door.
___
Snape clenches his jaw. He can’t afford to step out of line or risk involvement with a boy bound to cause trouble. Not now, when Voldemort is more on edge than ever. Not when Dumbledore needs him more than ever.
But maybe he’s gone too far.
___
Draco changes into clean robes and packs his bags in silence.
___
“Are you coming soon, Draco?” Pansy asks.
He shakes his head, and Pansy looks down.
She puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m worried about you, you know. It’s the End-of-Term Feast. The last time we’ll get to spend time together until we’re third-years. Come on, Draco. Please?”
“It’s a waste of time, Pansy. I have much more important matters to attend to,” Draco retorts. He catches a glimpse of her dismay and sighs. “Fine.”
“We might win the House Cup this year!” Pansy grins. She pauses for a second in thought and whines. “Dumbledore shows an awful amount of favouritism for the Gryffindors though. It’s not fair.”
“Pansy. I’m coming, alright? You don’t have to linger around and wait. I have to finish packing.”
“Oh. Alright.” Pansy flees the room, clearly choking back tears.
Draco sits still, stunned. What did he say?
It doesn't matter. He doesn’t have time for this.
When he arrives at the End-of-Term Feast, the bright red and gold decorations streaming from the ceiling are, honestly, a relief. The Slytherin's won't be celebrating today. It’ll be a quiet end to his night, at least. Plus, he’s able to stare at Potter as long as he’d like without anyone being confused. It’s out of anger, after all. That’s what he tells himself.