Hush

Draco was stretched out on a soft leather couch in the Slytherin common room with a conspiring smirk gracing his pale features.

The young Malfoy was pleased and plotting. Positive for he and his fellow Slytherins, but not for Gryffindors.

"Draco!"

The conspiring smirk was instantly replaced by an aggravated scowl.

"What, Pansy?" snapped Draco, his posture tensing slightly.

Pansy dropped onto Draco's stomach. Unfortunately for Draco, Pansy wasn't a light girl.

Draco gasped for air, lungs squashed and arms pinned beneath him. "Get off me, Parkinson!" he gasped.

Pansy only settled herself more comfortably. "No, I'm quite comfortable where I am," she replied, smiling roguishly and began to reach towards his chest in a rather provocative manner.

"Don't you dare do what I think you're going to do, Parkinson!" wheezed Draco.

Pansy merely smirked contentedly, pulling Draco's wand from his robe pocket and stood up.

"Give my wand back, Pansy," sighed Draco, still slightly pink in the face. "I'm not in the mood for your games."

"I want you to tell me what happened at the trial," said Pansy coldly. "You still haven't told any of us what happened. All of the papers say that the trial is to be continued at a later date."

Draco shifted in his seat. "I'd rather -"

"Mr Malfoy! I need to talk to you immediately!" interrupted the cold voice of the Potions Master, Severus Snape.

Draco turned his head towards the common room entrance. "I'm listening, sir," drawled Draco as he began wrestling his wand off Pansy.

"MALFOY!"

The professor's voice silenced the common room completely.

"In my study. Immediately."

With that, Snape turned on heel towards the entrance of the common room.

Silently fuming, Draco yanked his wand from Pansy's grip and stalked after the professor.

~

"You thought you'd get away with this, Mr Malfoy?" demanded Snape, pacing behind his desk. He looked like an oversized bat, swooping over the heads of frightened onlookers.

Draco's smirk had long disappeared as he slumped into a chair in front of the professor.

"It'd be stupid to say yes, now, wouldn't it?" drawled Draco. His eyes wandered across the multiple shelves of pickled animals and plants that lined Snape's private study. It suited him perfectly. Dark, dreary, and yet, somewhat elegant without being too much so. So unlike the Malfoy Manor, which, in Draco's opinion, was far too abundant with Persian rugs and crystal chandeliers. On various occasions Draco could remember his father saying how he much preferred the dungeons to the main house. 'I flatly refused to let your mother touch them. They'd only end up pink and frilly!'

It was the first and last time that Draco was to hear his father say 'pink and frilly'.

"- poisoning a fellow classmate is a serious offence, Mr Malfoy! Your respect towards the student body has dropped. During this past week, I have seen a serious lapse in your respect towards me, Draco," said the Potions Master silkily, pulling Draco from his thoughts.

Draco opened his mouth to object.

"Don't."

The young Malfoy tensed slightly, but then nodded, focusing on a particularly large jar. "Yes, sir."

Snape stopped pacing and sat down at his large, darkly stained desk. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he hissed.

Draco raised his eyes to meet Snape's.

"How could you - what in Merlin's name?"

It was the first time Draco had ever heard Professor Snape stutter. His speech was always perfectly eloquent.

"What?" drawled Draco. Inside he was desperately trying to conceal his thoughts by increasing his usually light shield of Occlumency. Unfortunately, Snape, a well-trained Legilmens, had already seen right through the light shield and straight to his thoughts before he could increase it.

It was too late. Draco had accidentally opened his mind in frustration.

"What was that?"

"Protego!" hissed Draco, his voice pained. Instantly the vision disappeared and Snape's study reappeared.

The Potions master ran a shaky, pallid hand through his long hair, picked up a feather quill and began writing with fervour on a long roll of parchment.

Draco simply sat there silently, looking ashen. His hands were trembling in his lap. What had Snape seen? Had he seen the same things as him or had he only seen more fragmented pieces?

Finally, Snape looked up and handed the parchment to Draco.

Draco rolled it up and put it in his pocket next to his wand.

"I'd prefer you to read that now, Mr Malfoy," said Snape quietly, obviously still quite shaken.

Draco eyed the parchment, which was quite clearly a potion formula.

It was a three-foot long potion formula.

"What's it for?" he asked dully.

Snape glared at him with pitiless eyes. "You will make this potion during your detentions with me after dinner every night for a fortnight."

Draco nodded and scowled sullenly. "And what is it called? There is no name on it."

Snape scowled and snatched the parchment out of Draco's hands. "I am not allowing you to know the name of this potion. It can be misused by those who do not know its full potential," he spat, his cold, black eyes narrowing viciously.

"Then why not educate me on this potion?" demanded Draco. "Should you really be brewing a potion within a school that is so terrible you can't even share its name?"

"I only need you to make it," hissed Snape, glowering at Draco. "The average sixteen year old will only look at the top of the page and see an enticing heading to cure all of their adolescent quandaries."

"What is it?" stated Draco, his eyes bright with fervour. "You think I'm an average, run of the mill adolescent. You want me to make it for detention; obviously I'm good enough for that! Tell me."

Severus Snape's eyes narrowed at that last command. Lucius shone through those words as clear as day.

"You're sounding more like your father everyday," whispered Snape. "Save your insolence for someone who cares." He turned to face the door. "I know you're an actor," he sneered.

Draco's posture suddenly relaxed, almost as though he was removing a mask. "You don't have to rub it in," he said coldly and rubbed his temples. "I get enough of that from mother. You know, for the first time ever she actually encouraged me... It was right before the trial: 'Draco, darling how about I dress you in these lovely blue robes for the trial. You'll look so sweet compared to that ugly black you're so attached to. Just be sweet for once darling, for me?" Draco snorted slightly and raised himself up from his chair. "Is that it, sir? Detention for the next fortnight? Making this mysterious potion?"

Snape eyed the boy for a moment. "No. I also wish to talk to you more often. The amount of emotions you have built up inside you, Mr Malfoy, is quite worrying."

And the negativity of them too, Snape thought to himself.

"I have never met anyone who has been able to keep that level of an emotional state and not end up in St. Mungo's. It is truly remarkable you have been able to keep a steady face through these hard times."

Draco looked down at the heavy signet ring on his right hand. "I am a Malfoy," murmured Draco.