Draco checked to make sure no one saw as he skirted another corner toward Lockhart's classroom. Not that he was doing anything wrong. He just didn't want his actions to be common knowledge. That was a very Slytherin trait, he told himself.
Professor Gilderoy Lockhart allowed select students to become his “assistants” throughout the school year. These assistants were supposed to help with things such as cleaning the classroom, preparing lessons, or even assisting Lockhart with his fan mail, but in reality it was more like a one-on-one fan meetup with the students Lockhart had sussed out were his greatest admirers. Draco knew Susan Bones and Dean Thomas from his year were both assistants. From Slytherin, Adrian Pucey, a few years ahead of Draco, was also an assistant, as was first-year Edwin Harper. There were others, but Draco did not know who.
Draco felt somewhat ashamed to be counted among their number, but not so ashamed that he was willing to stop being an assistant. After all, Lockhart was obviously an idiot and a fraud, but he had still gained great popularity and some influence, which meant it would benefit Draco to be close with him. Deep down, Draco also knew that he found the buffoon extremely attractive, and Draco couldn't deny feeling drawn to him.
All this in mind, Draco knocked on the professor's door.
“Enter!”
Draco entered and hoped he didn't blush as Lockhart smiled at him.
“Ah, young Draco! Come in! Come in! I was hoping today you could help me clean the classroom.”
“Of course, Professor,” Draco replied, relieved that he sounded cool and professional.
Draco began to straighten up the desks while Lockhart reminisced about his “adventures.” It was all nonsense, but Lockhart's smile was so charming when he got excited.
Draco turned his back to move a chair when the professor interrupted his rambling to cry, “Stupefy!”
XXX
Draco woke up suddenly, hearing the tail-end of a “Rennervate!”
He tried to jerk into a sitting position, but he couldn't. His wrists were tied to the rib cage of the dragon skeleton hanging from the ceiling. He could stand on his toes on the desk beneath him, but he could not stand flat, leaving his body stretched out. His ankles were tied together. Even worse, he had been stripped of his robe, shirt, shoes, and socks. Gilderoy Lockhart stood in front of him, smiling beautifully but vapidly.
“What are you doing? Release me! When my father hears about this – ”
“You really have no imagination,” Lockhart interrupted. “You're lucky you have other redeeming features.”
Draco sputtered and tugged at his arms, but dragon bones were as strong as iron. “You won't get away with this!”
“Yes, I will. I won't let you go until I'm through with you.”
“Through with me?” Draco squeaked, unnerved by Lockhart's certainty.
In reply, Lockhart held up his quill. It was one of those ridiculously fancy ones, large, blue, fluffy. Draco often saw him use it to sign autographs. Was Lockhart going to sign something?
Instead, Lockhart held the feather up to Draco's right side, right at his waist, and began to twirl the feather in place.
Draco immediately began tittering to his embarrassment. He was a Slytherin! He was a pure-blood! He should remain stoic in the face of...tickling? Seriously? He instinctively tried to squirm away from the feather, but he just made the dragon skeleton sway a bit.
Honestly, though, it tickled quite a lot. Just that big, fluffy feather twirling on that tender spot of his waist. “Stohohohohop thihihihihis! Thahahahahat's enouhouhouhouhough!”
“You know, one of these days I just want to do this. Just twirl a feather in one spot and see how long I can go before you lose your mind,” Lockhart said cheerfully.
“Mahahahahalfohohohohoys dohohohon't breaheaheaheak frohohohom tihihihihickling!” Draco's voice went very high on the last word.
Lockhart merely hummed an off-key tune and watched Draco lazily.
It's just tickling, Draco told himself. I can get used to it.
Draco could not get used to it. The feather just wouldn't stop. It kept going and going and going and going long after Draco thought it should stop. His giggling grew wilder, and his struggles grew more frantic. His father would surely be ashamed of him. Why wasn't it stopping?
“Stohohohohohohop!! Thihihihihihis is sihihihihillly!”
Just when Draco thought he would go mad if the feather twirled one more time, Lockhart stopped. Draco slumped, panting with relief.
“Maybe some other time.”
“If you let me go right now, I won't tell anyone,” Draco lied.
“You won't tell anyone anyway.”
Draco absolutely would tell his father and his head of house, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Not that he had much chance to protest as Lockhart cast, “Prurientes ignis!”
A rope of fire, looking much like the magical sparklers he'd played with as a child, shot out of Lockhart's wand and wrapped around Draco's torso. Draco flinched, expecting pain, but instead felt electric, galvanic tickling wherever the fire touched.
“Gyaaahahahahahahaha! Wahahahahahaha! No no no no nooohohohohohoho! Stahahahahahahap it! Eeeeeeeeeeeeek!”
The rope of fire spun in an infinite loop around his torso, leaving a trail of tickles sparking in its wake. Draco hopped in place and clenched and unclenched his fists.
“You should smile more. Usually you just smirk. As the five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, I can tell you that the witches love a man with a good smile.”
Draco wasn't sure if Lockhart was making less sense than usual or if his ability to understand speech was impaired by the havoc being wreaked on his torso. The only saving grace was that Lockhart hadn't yet touched his underarms. Draco's underarms were deathly ticklish, and he was hyper-aware that he couldn't remotely protect them in this position.
Still, it was hard to be grateful when the spell still assaulted the rest of Draco's upper body. When he moved to the sides, the tickling zapped his sides and ribs. When he moved forward, the tickling shocked his stomach and hips, and when he moved backwards, the tickling seared his back. There was no escape.
“Naaaaaahahahahaha!”
Finally, the spell fizzled out. Lockhart frowned and shook his wand. “That spell really should last longer. I need to practice it more. No matter. This is an Amphithere feather.” Lockhart picked up another feather from a nearby desk.
Draco blinked at the abrupt change of topic. Of course Draco knew about Amphitheres, a feathered kind of dragon. He had read everything the Malfoy library had on dragons after he'd learned that his named meant “dragon.”
“Amphithere feathers can be turned into special writing quills or magical feather dusters. But did you know that they are also the most ticklish feathers in the world?”
Draco swallowed as the feather drew closer to his stomach. When it finally stroked gently in a circle on his stomach, Draco's toes tried to curl, and his breath hitched before it drew out more giggles. Lockhart wasn't kidding about the feather being ticklish.
“Eeeeeeeeeeheeheeheeheehee! Merherherherherlihihin! Stohohohohohohop!”
Instead of stopping, Lockhart twirled the Amphithere feather in Draco's belly button. Draco's laughter went up several notches.
“NEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! Not there not there not there not THAAAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHA!”
The tickling rocketed up Draco's spine. Draco struggled violently, but the dragon bones never let him sway far enough to disrupt the tickling. Sweet Merlin, when would it end?
Lockhart finally removed the feather only to draw it back and forth across Draco's lower stomach. Draco lifted both feet in an attempt to protect his middle, but he couldn't sustain it. He tensed his muscles against the light sensation, embarrassed by how much this was affecting him.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
Lockhart surprised Draco by changing the script and bringing the feather to his feet. In this position, he had unfettered access to Draco's arches and heels.
Draco hopped and struggled, but unsurprisingly, his efforts were fruitless. “CUHUHUHUHUT IT OUHOUHOUHOUT! TEEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!”
When Draco began to have trouble drawing air into his lungs, Lockhart put the Amphithere feather down.
“Why me?” Draco whimpered. “Out of all your assistants – my father – ”
“Oh, it's not just you,” Lockhart replied casually. “Did you honestly think I need students to help me tidy up the classroom? The house elves do that. No, every single assistant brings an entirely new, ticklish experience. Susan Bones makes the funniest faces when you tickle her behind her knees for too long. And young Edwin Harper is so tiny, but so sensitive all over! You name a spot on his body and it's ticklish enough to make him beg for mercy.”
“But – ” Then why had Draco never heard of this? Why had no one else complained to a parent or a teacher? Why did all the other assistants still seem happy to go help Lockhart? Why had Lockhart waited this long to tickle Draco?
Before he could voice any of these questions, Lockhart stood on the desk chair and used a single finger to draw slow circles in both of Draco's underarms.
Draco knew he was excruciatingly ticklish under his arms, but he didn't remember it tickling this much the last time he'd been tickled there. His eyes grew impossibly wide, and he threw back his head and screeched.
“NOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO! PLEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEASE! AIIIIIIIIIHIHIHIHIHIHI!”
Somehow Lockhart knew just how to play him. He knew not to press too hard or too lightly. He knew that Draco was most ticklish in the very center hollows of his underarms and in a spot toward the upper underarm that met his arm, and he targeted those weaknesses relentlessly. Draco began to see stars. He furiously tried to kick, but he didn't have much upper body strength, and his position just let him squirm and sway the smallest amount.
“NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE! PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! I'LL DO AHAHANYTHIHIHIHING!”
“Cootchie cootchie coo! Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear...”
The brief “break” from tickling Draco under his arms did not feel much like a break as Lockhart circled his palms. Even that tickled.
“One step...two step...” Lockhart scritched two spots on his inner arm, getting closer to his armpits. Draco giggled nervously. “Tickle you under there!” Lockhart celebrated by going wild under Draco's arms, causing Draco to go wild in return.
When Draco thought he couldn't stand the tickling another second, it continued. When he thought it must stop or he would die, it continued. He couldn't bear it, but he was forced to take it.
Finally, finally, Lockhart stopped. Draco gulped air gratefully.
As a Slytherin he should be able to think his way out of this situation. There was always a way. His father said so. Why couldn't Draco think of how to stop this?
“This is where it gets fun.”
“Just now?” Draco replied, immediately regretting his snark.
“Yes. This,” Lockhart dramatically brandished a clear jar full of raspberry coloured glitter, “is Tickle Dust. It's created using fairy dust and – I forget the other ingredients. Tickle Dust, when applied, will make a wix more ticklish. The effect is permanent.”
Draco's eyes grew very large. His underarms were already so ticklish. He couldn't imagine becoming MORE ticklish. It wasn't possible. He would die. His breath came in short gasps.
He began to struggle again. “Please don't use that on me. I can pay you. Just don't – not – I can't!”
“I understand your concerns, but alas, I must see what will happen.”
Ignoring Draco's please and attempts to bargain, Lockhart dipped a normal feather (why did he have so many feathers??) into the jar and coated the dust in Draco's underarms.
“GEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO! DOHOHOHOHOHON'T!” Draco laughed, terror growing. The feathers, naturally, tickled a great deal.
When Lockhart had painted Draco's armpits to his satisfactions. He stepped away and waited 30 seconds. Draco frantically tried to blow the dust off his skin, but he was perspiring a fair amount from the previous tickling, and the dust stuck, quickly sinking into his skin. Draco felt tingling under his arms.
“Now, I don't want that on my fingers, so Scourgify!”
Draco giggled. The bubbles suddenly frothing under his arms tickled as they fizzed and popped.
As soon as the bubbles died down, Lockhart stepped up and wiggled his fingers under Draco's arms.
Draco opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The tickling exceeded his ability to voice it. He'd never been so desperate for anything to stop in his life. People talked about torture, but he'd never truly understood until this moment. This was torture. This could break him, and it hadn't even been five seconds.
Draco began to cry. Finally, he managed to make sound. “MUHUHUHUMMY! MUHUHUHUMMYHYHYHY! HEHEHEHEHELLLP!” But his mother couldn't hear him. No one helped him.
Lockhart crowed in delight at Draco's reaction. “Now what if we do this? Or tickle here? Or go like this?”
With each question, Lockhart switched techniques or spots in Draco's underarms. He scratched, wiggled, and tapped.
Draco shook his head wildly and tried as hard as he could to pull his arms down. He couldn't even feel ashamed anymore. He'd thought the tickling was bad before, but he couldn't get used to how much worse it was now. He truly couldn't stand it anymore.
“PLEEEEEEEEEEASE! PLEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEASE!! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!”
When Lockhart picked up the Amphithere feather again, Draco screamed before it came within three feet of him. “Not that! Not after the Tickle Dust! I'll let you tickle me anywhere else for as long as you want! I'll pay you! I'll let you put Tickle Dust in my belly button! Please please please please please!”
His begging, which would make his father disown him if he heard it, did no good.
Lockhart began to dust Draco's right underarm, and Draco lost all higher brain function. He couldn't even remember his name, let alone language. The tickling consumed him. There was nothing else. He fell back into silent laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks and light exploding behind his eyelids.
Lockhart took his time stroking, swishing, and twirling the Amphithere feather under both of Draco's arms. Draco fervently wished he would pass out. He wanted a break, even for one second. He started to cough. If Draco had been able to register anything other than the tickling, he might have noticed his lungs were aching.
Draco lost all sense of time. It felt like days. The tickling remained unbearable and mind-blowing. He felt light-headed, and his vision grew grey around the edges.
Finally, Lockhart stepped back, a satisfied smile on his lips. He waved his wand a few times, but the ropes binding Draco refused to disappear, so Lockhart had to untie him by hand. When he finally got Draco down, Draco curled into a shivering ball on the floor.
“I can't wait to see your face next time I tickle under your arms. You're always so shocked by the increased ticklishness, and you have no way of anticipating it!”
“Wait, what?”
“Obliviate!”
XXX
Draco checked to make sure no one saw as he skirted another corner toward Lockhart's classroom. Not that he was doing anything wrong. He just didn't want his actions to be common knowledge. That was a very Slytherin trait, he told himself.
Draco felt somewhat ashamed to be one of Lockhart's assistants, but not so ashamed that he was willing to stop being an assistant. After all, Lockhart was obviously an idiot and a fraud, but he had still gained great popularity and some influence, which meant it would benefit Draco to be close with him. Deep down, Draco also knew that he found the buffoon extremely attractive, and Draco couldn't deny being drawn to him.
So why did his skin prickle uncomfortably at the thought of being alone with Lockhart?
Draco knocked on the professor's door.