The Truth about Slytherin

Sally skipped through the fields feeling rather pretty today. The robes mistress had outdone herself and had made the loveliest summer dress in a pale green for him to wear as he picked a bouquet of flowers--hemlock, nightshade, aconite, and wolfsbane. All the lovely things needed to produce some exquisite potions.

"Sally! Sally!" A woman's voice called over the distance, sounding slightly worried.

She peeked up at the sky and swore. She was due in for lunch twenty minutes ago.

"There you are, Salazar! How many times have I told you to be on time! " A shrill woman's voice scolded him

Slytherin winced. "I'm sorry, Mistress. I lost track of the time. I was enjoying my new dress and the perfect weather so much that I did not think to check the position of the sun as often as I might ordinarily do!"

Rowena Ravenclaw shook her head. "That's no excuse! Or rather, that excuse failed you the last time you tried it! I'm going to have to take away your new dress. You get fair too distracted by it."

"But Ma'am! I saved up for that dress by doing chores, just as you asked of me!"

She looked contemplative. "Aye, and you did work hard for it. I will think of a way for you to make amends on the way back to the manor. We will be going straight for the whipping horse."

Slytherin bit his tongue. Complaints about punishment only made things worse. Instead, he nodded. "Yes, Mistress," he said resigned.

They quickly marched back to the manor, Slytherin walking quickly, Ravenclaw on his heels to ensure that he didn't slack. They cut around to the back, to a little square off to the side where a well-worn whipping horse lay.

"And what is the punishment for being late, Salazar?"

"One stroke per minute, ma'am."

Ravenclaw nodded curtly. "Correct. You know what to do."

Muttering under his breath about how she would one day pay for such indignities, Slytherin stepped out of his dress, and bent over the horse revealing nothing by creamy white skin.

His mistress pretended to look horrified. "No knickers! That will be an extra five."

"Yes, Mistress." He replied coolly, knowing full well that she did not allow him the use of undergarments when dressed like this. Letting him feel the silky materials his robes were often made of seemed to get him into trouble more often than not, hence the standing order.

"Accio, crop!" Ravenclaw called out, and as it flew through the air a small group of servants followed. Everyone was fully aware of what her flying crop meant--and she encouraged onlookers, thinking that they helped to put Slytherin in his place.

"It would seem that your entourage has arrived, my dear boy."

He snorted silently. He knew exactly who these people were; filthy Mudbloods. They would all pay, every last one of them.

The crop swiftly came down on his upturned arse.

"One." Ravenclaw called out, and Slytherin groaned, bracing herself. His Mistress was always swift about discipline, preferring to get it done in the least amount of time.

By lash five he was beginning to moan.

By lash ten he was openly groaning.

Lash fifteen saw him squirming in pain trying to escape from the heavy hand of his mistress.

Lash twenty saw silent tears falling down his face.

When she called out "Twenty-five," Slytherin sagged in relief.

She called for one of the on-lookers to bring her the salve. One seemingly had the forethought to bring it out with them.

"Thank you, Miss Hufflepuff. That was an excellent thought."

Hufflepuff curtsied. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

Ravenclaw appraised her once more. She was starting to tire of Slytherin's moodiness, but she quickly pushed the thought out of her mind for now. She had unfinished business to attend to.

She dabbed the cooling salve on Slytherin's burning skin. This was the reason he had to fully strip. Even upset at him, she did not want to ruin his pretty clothes with the greasy lotion.

When finished, she said, "Punishment complete," and clapped her hands. Everyone scattered away.

"Pick up your dress and follow me. I have thought of a way for you to keep your dress."

Holding the dress in such way as to cover his modesty, they walked through the Manor house, everyone stopping to courtesy as they passed. Even naked and humbled, Slytherin still outranked the lot of them.

They took their meal in a small sitting room. Once served, she began. "Salazar. I wish to form a school to teach children proper Magic. We will need at least two more people to flush out the plan I have. Therefore, if you wish to keep your new dress you will hunt down Godric Gryffindor and bring him here..."

* * *

Draco read over the half finished essay, color coming to his cheeks.

"How did you..."

"The Sorting Hat told me," Harry said, looking rather smug.

"How did that tattered old thing know that?"

Harry snickered. "Why don't you ask it. But I would have to say, I do believe that while Gryffindor may have been a sex starved, addle-brained knight, at least he didn't go prancing around in a dress calling Ravenclaw Mistress."

Draco scoffed. "Don't knock it until you try it."

Harry's jaw dropped.

Draco preened. If he played his cards right, perhaps he could get Potter to appreciate his new pale green dress...