Of Discipline, Education, and Other Things A Malfoy Should Know


Dien wrote it, but she don't own nobody. Which is good, because if she did, she'd never let them out of the house and nobody else'd get to play with them (although I would sell video tapes of what went on in the house for obscene amounts of money...).

All righty then. This is an attempt at a Draco/Severus, Draco/Hermione, Hermione/Draco, Hermione/Severus fic, with something a lot like Hermione/Hermione in there. (You'll understand what I mean when you get there.) It's Miss Granger's own fault. Damn nosy little Gryffindors. (Oh, and there's a brief, in-there-mostly-for-the-laughs-and-a-little-for-the-plot Harry/Ron reference.) Also: Severus/Lucius implied. Lucius/Draco abuse implied. But, as I was saying, slash-fic. See the bottom of this thing for a little note.

This chapter is PG-13.

Set in the as-yet-unseen sixth year, goes with the premise that wizarding 'coming-of-age' is sixteen... not that most Slytherins would care about that anyways. And certainly no Malfoy.

Apologies for my bastardized Latin. Not my fault we Yank Muggles don't get taught Classical Latin.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT of Inspiration: First, Azalais Malfoy, as it is likely that without "House of Ill Faith" I never would have found the Malfoys interesting enough to write about. Much of inner-house politics and sech comes from her, I think... :) Second, MartianHouseCat, cuz "Delicious Rotten" and everything is else is beyond lovely and is also quite inspiring, and A+F rocks my world.


"But, good gracious, you've got to educate him first. You can't expect a boy to be vicious till he's been to a good school."

--Saki (H. H. Munro), Scottish author


I. The Use of Scrying Spells, and of Long Hours in Dusty Libraries Learning Them

          Hermione rolled her eyes. Males. Ruddy idiots, the lot of them. Did the two of them really think she didn't know what they were up to when they said they had to practice Quidditch?

          Of course, she did have to admit it hadn't been only through her own keen deductive abilities that she had figured it out. But spells were allowed, especially if you hadn't meant any harm by them.

          She wondered whether she ought to tell them she knew exactly what they were up to and that they really didn't need to fall all over themselves with creative descriptions of how exactly their Quidditch practice had gone, because they really were both horrible liars. But, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to admit she'd spied on them. For starters, they'd be dreadfully embarrassed, and things were likely to be awkward between them all after that. It wasn't worth risking their friendships over.

          Nor, if Hermione Granger was to be strictly and completely honest with herself, was it worth risking that they might ask her to stop spying on them.

          So she simply rolled her eyes, and listened as they explained that, well, it was the stupid Snitch's fault, they hadn't been able to find it, and they really hadn't meant to stay out quite so long, and, yes, they did know it was dark out... sorry, Hermione... sorry, Hermione... yes, we do want your help studying for the Transfiguration final...

          She sighed and interrupted Ron, who, flushed face notwithstanding, was talking about how the Snitch had slipped right out of his hand (Oh, I'll just bet it did). "Look, Ron, it's okay. Let's just get up to the common room before we waste any more studying time, okay?"

          The boys agreed and Hermione pretended she didn't see the red mark on Harry's neck as he nodded. Life sucked, at times.

          Especially when your so-called boyfriend and your so-called best friend after him were snogging each other senseless and all you got of it was what a judiciously applied, interesting variant of a scrying spell let you experience.

          The three Gryffindor students made their way through the twisting halls of Hogwarts, confusing enough to bewilder any newcomer to the castle. But the three students had had the benefit of six years of schooling in this castle behind them, and probably knew it better than most when one took into account all their nocturnal ramblings.

          As Harry started to lead the way up one of the shifting staircases, Ron suddenly stopped and grabbed at the sleeves of his friends' robes.


          "Look over there," Ron growled, his normally cheerful face darkening angrily. Hermione and Harry followed his gaze to a smaller hallway that led off towards the Slytherin dungeons.

          Obviously neither of the two figures there had noticed them, as the one continued to lean in an intimidating fashion over the other, and the other cowered. Draco Malfoy, he of the bastard pureblood attitude (and the insanely gorgeous colouring), was holding some first year by the throat and shoving him back against the wall.

          "That... that bully!" Hermione snapped. "We always knew he was a pig, but still...!"

          Harry nodded. "I say we teach him a lesson. Come on, Ron, no teachers're around, let's thrash the git."

          "Agreed," Ron muttered. "Bloody hell, I think that's even one of his own house. What a prick."

          The two boys drew their wands and began to move towards the Slytherins. Hermione frowned, caught in a dilemma. This really wasn't a good idea.... and yet, she desired the Thrashing of Malfoy as much as anyone.

          Perhaps if we don't make a decision soon enough, the situation will have already moved out of our hands... the passive-aggressive corner of her mind whispered hopefully. She snarled at it.

          And yet... Suddenly it was her turn to stop and grab their sleeves.


          "Snape," she hissed, and pointed. The genuine article himself was coming up the hallway towards Draco, and, by extension, to them. He was perusing a book as he walked, and so hadn't noticed any of the five students making up the tableau.

          Harry and Ron groaned. "Look inconspicuous and innocent," sighed Harry. His fellow Gryffindors rolled their eyes.

          Snape had apparently mastered the art of reading and walking at the same time without hitting anything. Long before he would have walked into Draco and the first year, he stopped in his tracks and looked up at the two of them. The black eyes lingered on the duo for a second, flickered up to the three Gryffindors standing some distance away, then back to Malfoy. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched as Snape's face became utterly unreadable.

          "Mr. Malfoy. Exactly what the hell do you think you're doing." Snape's voice was completely flat. Ron whispered to Harry, "How many Galleons the Slimy Bastard will let him get clean away with it?"

          "Maybe not," Harry shot back. "It is a Slytherin he's tormenting after all..."

          Draco Malfoy, meanwhile, had done an admirable demonstration of jumping out of his pale skin. "Sir," he said quickly, pulling back from the first year he'd been threatening and turning to look at his head of house.

          Snape stared at him coldly, not speaking. Draco stood tall for a second, then began to quail. Without a word, Snape turned to the first year.

          "Mr. Cobb. Are you all right?"

          The first year, one Daniel Cobb, wiped a bleeding nose and looked back and forth between his professor and his fellow student, obviously weighing just how much trouble he could get Malfoy into-- and whether it was worth it.


          "I did not ask about Mr. Malfoy. Are. You. All. Right."

          "I... a mite s-scratched, sir."

          Snape reached out one long-fingered hand and grabbed the small boy's chin, turning the head until he could clearly examine Cobb's face. Black eyes scanned over the face, the boy cringing slightly, then Snape let go and straightened up.

          "Go to the infirmary. I want Madam Pomfrey to look at that."

          "Er... y-yes, sir, but I'm suppos'd to 'ave d-detention in an 'alf-hour..."

          Snape looked impatient. From a pocket of his robes he pulled a scrap of parchment and a quill, and, using his book as a hard surface, quickly scrawled a note that he handed to Daniel Cobb.

          "There. An excusatory note. You will serve your detention after you see Madam Pomfrey. Now go."

          With one last glance at Draco Malfoy, the boy took the note and headed off down the corridor in the direction Snape had come from.

          The professor turned to stare at Malfoy, who was studying the floor of the hallway as if he had never seen anything quite so spell-binding in his entire life. Finally, the Potions master snapped, "Eight o'clock, Mr. Malfoy. We will be discussing your... conduct... then. In my office."

          Draco-- there was no mistaking it-- blanched. Still staring at his feet, he murmured, "Yes, sir."

          Snape spared him no further attention, but swept down the corridor towards the Gryffindors, who quickly tried to look as if they had just been passing through.

          "Messieurs Potter and Weasley. And, of course, the estimable Miss Granger. Is there any reason the three of you are loitering idly in the corridors?" he asked coolly.

          "No, sir. Just moving on, sir," Hermione said quickly, before either of the boys could get off something that would cost Gryffindor points. He nodded. "See that you do." And was gone, moving past them in one of those swishing-robe exits.

          Ron growled. "Bastard. Takes us to task for just standing here, when his bloody little favourite was attacking a kid right in front of him. What a ponce..."

          "If either of us did that, you know he'd get us expelled," Harry said, then added glumly, "And you're right. Git Malfoy got away clean. The only lecture he'll get is probably something like 'don't do it in such a public place, Mr. Malfoy.'"

          Hermione, meanwhile, was thoughtfully observing Draco. Since Snape had swept past him, leaving him standing in the hallway, Malfoy had not moved. He continued to stare bleakly at the hallway's flagstones, looking vaguely sick to his stomach. She wondered if he even knew they were there.

          "C'mon, Hermione, let's get up to common. We still have studying, yeah?" said Harry, poking her in the ribs. She nodded, and turned to follow them as they started moving up the stairs, the most recent Snape injustice already forgotten.

          But she couldn't help it. Pulling her wand adroitly from her sleeve, she pointed it at Draco and murmured, "Observare syncogens."

Did y'all like that? I'm glad. Well, I'm glad if you DID like that, if you didn't I, er, never mind...

All right. As you know, FF.Net doesn't allow NC-17 fics to be archived anymore. Which is why this fic is finished elsewhere.

If you want to read it, go here: http://www.geocities.com/theshade00/disc.html

Mind you, there may be a number of people reading it, in which case stupid Geocities may shut down that account for too much traffic. If that happens, the only advice I can give you is to wait a while and try again.

Thank you for your interest.