DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own Harry Potter. This story is purely fan-made.

Year Two

Draco Malfoy sat on a bench in the Slytherin changing room. His elbows were stuck to his leather kneepads, his pale face hidden in his hands. A knot had formed in his stomach, twisted excruciatingly tight.

It had been his first game as Seeker, and he had lost - not just to anyone, but to Harry Potter. It wasn't shame, however, that made him hang his head, or even the disgusted looks of his teammates, who purposefully shunned him as they changed out of their Quidditch robes in a heavy silence. No - Draco needed a moment to still his nerves before the real squall struck.

He'll come, I know he will. Come on, then, and get it over with.

He did not have long to wait before he got his wish. The clicking heels of his father's black tailored boots drew near. The dividing curtain swished open, revealing behind it the imposing, statuesque figure of Lucius Malfoy. The other Slytherins cast about nervous glances, probably wondering if they would be forced to return the new Nimbus Two-Thousand-and-Ones he had bought for the team after he beat Draco senseless.

The superior senior Malfoy raised his chin with a purposeful look. "My son and I need a moment alone."

Those few ominous words were all it took. The Slytherin team caught their collective breath, snatched up their belongings, and scurried like rats off a sinking ship. Lucius held open the curtain with his snake-headed cane until the last one left, then let it fall with a flourish. Draco raised his head, waiting.

"Well. A rather interesting game, wasn't it?" Lucius mused, a false smile playing at his lips. "Those Nimbus Two-Thousand-and-Ones really are worth every Knut; they performed quite well, wouldn't you say, Draco?"

Draco hesitated before answering the only safe answer he knew. "Of course, father."

Unexpectedly, Lucius changed the subject. "During the game, I spoke briefly with Professor Snape. He tells me your Potions grade is excellent, the highest in your class - even higher, he said, than that of - what was the filthy little Mudblood's name? Ah, yes. Hermione Granger."

Like you didn't remember her name, Draco thought bitterly. I never should have mentioned her. I should have lied, said I had the best grades in my year. I would have had, had it not been for that bushy-haired little witch.

"Now I see where your time and effort has gone - not into Quidditch, obviously, despite all the Galleons I laid down in order to assure your spot on the team. I was so sure when I did that you would live up to the Malfoy name for once, and succeed at something. Potions." He chuckled to himself.

Draco bit his lip. It would not be long now. Lucius was toying with him, playing a game of cat and mouse before he moved in for the kill.

"Well, I think some commendation is in order," Lucius was saying then, pacing grandiosely back and forth. "Congratulations, Draco. You must be quite proud of yourself. Now you've outdone the progeny of Muggles." On that last note, Lucius's voice broke with bitter hatred.

Draco forced himself to stay silent. He knew from experience that if he didn't, it would be the worse for him. No one fought Lucius Malfoy and won.

"Wasted," the elder Malfoy hissed now, his rage no longer concealed, "money, pureblood lineage, connections - and for what? Your teammates didn't lose the game today, Draco." In half a second, he was in his face, eyes blazing. "You did!"

Draco stared back at him, afraid to breathe.

"You have disgraced me in front of every wizard at Hogwarts - not only that, the entire wizarding community! Your failures reflect a poor image on me and I will not have it. You may have no pride in yourself, but I will not be made to look a fool."

"I'm sorry, Father. I won't fail you again."

"No. You won't." With a swish Lucius's wand came out, his cruel eyes glittered. "If this is the only way I can teach you respect for the Malfoy name, so be it. I will not have a loser for a son. Cruci -"

"Ah, Lucius," rang the dark, deep tones of a familiar voice. "I thought you might be here."

Draco's silver eyes widened with relief as he saw his salvation arrive. Severus Snape, his head of house, now stood just behind them. His father dared do nothing in front of a Hogwarts professor on the school grounds, even if Snape was a Slytherin and somewhat of a friend.

Lucius wheeled round, his gaze murderous, then at once alarmingly calm. "Severus," he said coolly, as though he had not been about to perform an Unforgivable Curse on his only son a moment before.

Professor Snape's black eyes flickered without a trace of emotion as they turned from the senior Malfoy to Draco, whose already pallid face had turned ghostly white. "Have I intruded?"

"Not at all," Lucius lied without a blush, "Draco and I have finished our… conversation."

If Snape saw something amiss, he did not show it. "Very well. In that case, I am instructed to take you to Dumbledore's office for the conference you requested."

Lucius raised his head, giving Snape a curt nod. "Yes, of course."

"Follow me." Without a backward glance at his shivering star pupil, Snape exited the changing area. Nearly every other Hogwarts student was terrified of the swishing, batlike black robes that announced Severus Snape's arrival and departure. Draco, however, was terrified to see him leave. His stomach twisted a little tighter as he watched Snape's back disappear from view.

"Consider that a warning, Draco," Lucius whispered venomously as he followed Snape out. "Do not disappoint me again."

Trembling from the inside out, Draco gave a hard shudder. It was not the first time his father had tried to put a curse on him, nor, he imagined, would it be the last. The first time he had been only six years old. He had accidentally broken a wall plaque honoring one of Lucius's many donations to the Ministry of Magic. His mother Narcissa had stopped it then, standing as a shield between them. Draco would never forget the horror of watching her willowy body fall to the floor, convulsing, taking for him the pain he'd been meant to bear. He winced with the memory.

After that day Lucius had always waited until they were alone like this, punishing him in private, warning him to keep his bruises hidden from sight even from his mother, or worse penalties would befall him. Still, he had never crossed the line and used an Unforgivable Curse on him. Until now.

It was a full five minutes before he became aware of himself again, or the fact that tears were now streaming in hot rivulets down his cheeks.

I must never disappoint him again. Never. Never...

Dumbledore was pacing in his study when Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy entered. The munificent old headmaster of Hogwarts was worried, but not only over Harry Potter, who would be in the hospital wing by now in the capable hands of Madam Pomfrey.

"Ah, Severus, Lucius. Do come in and have a seat." He outstretched an arm, indicating the plush armchairs just before his desk.

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. "You wish me to remain, headmaster?"

"Of course. You are, after all, Draco's head of house." Dumbledore smiled softly. "Now then, Lucius, you wanted to see me about your son?"

"Yes." Lucius glanced over at Snape, visibly deciding there would be no harm in his hearing whatever was said. "I know this conference must be regrettably brief, as we both have other pressing business, but I should like to discuss Draco's academic performance."

"I shouldn't be surprised," Dumbledore cheerfully affirmed. "Especially after all young Draco's achievements."

"His achievements?" Lucius repeated in disbelief.

"He has near-perfect scores in all his classes. He is, I believe, second only to one other student in his year in regards to grades, and that is by a margin of only a few points. No doubt Severus has already shared with you that Draco is at the top of his Potions class, among the top five students of every other subject, a superb Quidditch player, and a natural leader in his House. If he keeps this up a further three years, I see no reason he could not be chosen as a prefect - perhaps, one day, even Head Boy."

"Head Boy?" Lucius Malfoy looked as though he had swallowed a spoonful of turpentine. "I see."

"Severus?" Dumbledore said then. "Have you any comment?"

Professor Snape paused a moment, glancing back and forth between the two of them as though caught between a dragon and a lake monster. "I cannot speak for Draco's performance in other classes, only my own," he said carefully. "His Potions grade reflects accurately both the culmination of his own efforts and a natural proclivity for draught-making. He is, as I have said, most attentive and shows promise, given further study, which any student would no doubt require before attempting an OWL."

"There you have it," Dumbledore nodded proudly, "Professor Snape is not known to praise any student, but in finding no criticism, is his highest praise of all." His bespectacled eyes twinkled. "Now, unless there is some other concern, I shall not keep you. I have an appointment with Cornelius Fudge this evening that will not wait."

"Of course. I appreciate your time, and…your opinion." Malfoy looked as though those words might have choked him. "Dumbledore."

After Malfoy swept from the office, Professor Snape lingered beside Dumbledore's desk. "Headmaster, may I speak in confidence?"

Dumbledore's careworn face grew serious. "As always. What have you to tell me, Severus?"

"I have reason to believe that Lucius Malfoy is abusing his son, beyond any acceptable levels of parental punishment." When Dumbledore made no reply, Snape continued. "When I entered the changing area, his wand was pointed at Draco. He was beginning to utter an Unforgivable Curse - the Cruciatus Curse, to be precise."

"Does Lucius know you overheard?"

"I gave him no reason to suspect it, and I am sufficiently accomplished in Occlumency to close my mind to him." Snape's cool demeanor momentarily flickered with concern. "Shall I call Draco here until he leaves, as a precaution?"

Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh. "No. If Lucius suspects our interference, young Draco will pay the price for it. He already suffers enough." Dumbledore pondered for a moment before standing to pace. "You know, Severus… Draco is not like his father. He is not evil. His heart is not filled with hate. Lucius sees this, and it must be a great torment to him, but I never thought he would turn his Dark Magic on his own son - "

"Headmaster," Snape hissed, as a gasp sounded behind them.

Hermione Granger stood dumbstruck. She wanted to run away, but her limbs refused to budge. Professor McGonagall's note hung limp in her hand, forgotten in the wake of what she was never supposed to overhear.

"Come all the way in, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said warmly, as though they had been discussing nothing more disquieting than the weather, "don't be shy. Will you leave us, Severus? We can finish our discussion another time."

"As you wish." Snape nodded curtly, then swooped out, casting Hermione a cagey glance before closing the door behind him.

Hermione edged forward, forcing herself to stay calm. "I… F-forgive me, sir, I didn't mean to interrupt… P-Professor McGonagall wanted me to give you this," she finally stammered, holding out with a trembling hand a sealed letter.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said lightly, standing to take the letter. "I see you have stumbled onto our conversation, Miss Granger. Set your mind at ease; there's no harm done. Still, I must ask you to forget what you heard just now - or at least, never to repeat it, even to Harry."

"Of course I won't tell anyone," Hermione promised softly, nodding, "only… Professor, how could anyone put a curse on their own child? It's unthinkable."

Dumbledore lowered his gaze, his hands clasped together over his knees so that he looked almost grandfatherly for a moment. "Dear Miss Granger. You always try to see the best in people. Harry is lucky to have you for a friend, for more reasons than he knows."

Hermione blushed. Dumbledore never gave praise that was undeserved. She watched as he stood and donned a smile that was solely for her comfort.

"You are a fortunate girl, Miss Granger. Your parents have shown you nothing but love and kindness. Your friends' parents who have shown them similar love, even going so far as to lay down their lives for their child." He was, of course, speaking of Harry. "Sadly, in far too many cases, this is not so, as you have just heard evidence. I cannot intervene in what goes on at the Malfoy Manor. But at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy, and every other student in my care, will be safe, for as long as I am here."

Hermione exhaled deeply, letting it all sink in. She thought of the way Malfoy bullied everyone around him, of how he'd called her Mudblood on the Quidditch pitch that day; then she tried to imagine the same blond, pale-faced boy, falling to the floor with a thud as his father took his snake-headed cane and struck him until he screamed. Hermione shivered. The idea of Lucius Malfoy being an abusive parent was not so farfetched. She remembered all too well the way the rich, arrogant wizard had eyed her in Flourish and Blotts. There was an unbridled malice in his eyes, one that had made her genuinely afraid, though more for her defenseless Muggle parents than for herself. She could only imagine the horrors Draco must endure at home under the roof of such a cruel wizard. Even so…

"I see what you're feeling," Dumbledore perceived then, coming round to place a warm hand on her shoulder. "When someone has been unkind to us, it's very hard to feel anything but anger and hatred towards them. Forgiveness is never easy, especially to those who appear not to deserve it. Still, appearances often deceive… and I think, in this case, perhaps…"

"Yes?" Hermione waited, but in the end Dumbledore changed his mind and held his peace, though a mischievous smile was twitching at his beard as he returned to sit behind his desk.

"So, how is Harry?" the headmaster asked, changing the subject.

Hermione blinked a few times, regaining her senses. "Madam Pomfrey says he'll regrow his bones tonight. He's resting now. We'll be allowed to see him when he wakes up."

"Good, good. Take him these for me, will you? I would take them myself, but I have a meeting with the Minister of Magic, one I would much rather avoid." Dumbledore pushed forward a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. "And do remind him to stay away from the ones that look like toffee - he'll know what it means."

Hermione's head was still spinning when she left Dumbledore's office and headed out into the hall, the box of candy hanging almost limply in her hands. Her heart raced; her face felt warm. Forget, Dumbledore said. As if anyone could forget such a thing! I should never have heard it… but remember your first Arithmancy lesson, Hermione. "There is no such thing as chance in the Wizarding world - probabilities abound, but there is no chance." No, I suppose I was meant to hear it… but why?

Draco is not like his father. He is not evil. His heart is not filled with hate. Over and over she replayed the headmaster's words. If they were true… well, that changed everything, didn't it?

Appearances often deceive, and I think in this case, perhaps… Hermione would wonder for some time afterwards what Dumbledore had stopped himself from saying, but that presented an infinite number of possibilities, and in the end she gave up the task of deciphering his thoughts to be impossible.

Later, visiting Harry in the hospital wing and presenting him with Dumbledore's gift, it was all she could do to hold her tongue. Hermione was relieved when Madam Pomfrey shooed them out so Harry could rest. Complaining to Ron about needing to go study, she hurried away. She did intend to study, but not for class.