A/N: Welcome to my twisted little Draco Malfoy rabbit hole. Thanks for jumping in.

Deep gratitude to my betas and friends ketos, Constance and oftachancer for their encouragement and guidance with this piece.

Reviews and kudos are greatly appreciated.

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Chapter One

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Draco loves his new governess.

When they told him his old one would be leaving them, he was so happy. Not because he'd get a new one, but because he thought it might mean he'd get to go to Hogwarts early. Or Durmstrang. Depending on which parent he is talking to.

But no, his father reminded him he had many more years to wait before he could go. He'd sulked, thinking he'd give anything for a wand. The house elves brought him extra sweets to try to get him to stop sulking.

Then it turned out to be the best thing that had ever happened because she arrived. A live-in, like the other one, but she is different.

A mudblood governess.

The first mudblood Draco thinks he's ever met.

She's 'just out of Uni,' she told him, when he asked how old she was. The other one had been sooooooooo old. He's not sure what Uni is, but it sounds very un-pureblood. There's so much he doesn't know how to make sense of about her.

She's beautiful, though, he knows that for certain.

He draws pictures of her when no one is looking. Hides them between the mattress and the frame, where he's pretty sure the elves don't clean.

She's warm and firey, in a way no pureblood witch he knows is. Certainly not his mother.

She plays with him on the floor, pretends to be animals with the noises and everything. Makes faces. She's fun and full of laughter.

She talks back to his father when she disagrees with something he's said. Talks back! He's not seen a single other living witch or wizard do that. And for some reason his father lets her.

She looks so different from his mother. Long curly brown hair that boings when he pulls it. Creamy-tanned skin - she's always out in the sun. A line of summer freckles across her nose. Eyes that have his favorite kind of trouble, not the cold rules and manners of his parents.

He can muss her hair, grab at her sweater, get mud on her, and she just laughs. Laughs and smiles and throws mud back at him. His mother would just get frustrated and yell at him for that.

He knows he's not supposed to like a mudblood more than purebloods, but he does. She's the most incredible person he's ever met.

He wants to know more of them. He wonders why it's alright for a mudblood to be a governess but not alright for them to be other things. She's so smart and pretty. He thinks she could be anything she wants.

Draco wonders if she bothers his father, if her being a mudblood does.

Because when they sit down for afternoon tea all together, Draco sometimes catches his father watching her, staring at her with a very serious expression that doesn't quite look like anger but Draco thinks is very similar. It almost looks like he wants to hurt her, like he's threatening to with his eyes.

Sometimes, (Draco notices it's only when his Mother is not there to scold his father for being rude,) his father even looks his governess up and down, the way he's seen him do at horses he's thinking of buying.

This worries Draco. He doesn't want her to feel funny and leave.

Most worrisome of all, sometimes Draco has caught his governess turn a bright red in response to his father's looks.

He worries that she is embarrassed by his father's behavior, that she feels unwelcome, even hated. But then she seems to be smiling all through tea after, so Draco thinks it must not bother her too much. That's good.

But even if she doesn't choose to leave, Draco begins to worry that his father will fire her, if he hates her so much. Then he won't get to see her anymore.

It begins to keep him up at night. He lays in his bed trying to think how he can get her to stay, to keep being his governess. What he could say or do.

To make himself feel better he imagines great adventures he and she will go on, ones that will be so amazing and full of complishments that even his father will be forced to admit how wonderful she is.

That'll work. They'll leave together. On an adventure. And come back famous and with loads of complishments and gifts and knowing about all sorts of things. And then his father will let her stay.

. . .

One night, Draco wakes up to the sound of screaming.

It happens once. Then again.

He gets out of bed and opens his door, peeking his head out into the corridor.

The screams continue. But they're confusing. They don't sound quite like pain, but then sometimes they do, and he can't tell what it really is, between the two sounds. But the voice reminds him of her voice.

Fear strikes him. Something horrible is happening to his governess! And she needs his help!

He follows the sounds out of his wing and past his mother's room, glancing in quickly to see if she's there and will help him, tell him what's happening.

But the room is cold and dark. That's right, he forgot: tonight is one of those nights where Mother stays in London at the townhouse.

The scream sounds again, louder. But it changes at the end. It almost sounds like one of the animals that live on the grounds.

Oh no, could it be some kind of terrible curse? Something turning her into a beast or monster like in one of his books? No - he can't let that happen.

He keeps following the sound, all the way to the east wing. That's when he realizes it's coming from his father's private rooms.

The sounds grow louder and faster as he approaches the door, and now he can hear another sound with them - smacks, like a book slamming down on a desk.

He reaches out, terrified of what he will find, but determined to help her. He grasps the large handle and swings open the door.

What he sees he doesn't understand.

They turn their heads to him at the sound of the door opening. His father. His governess.

She's on the bed. On her hands and knees like a dog. She doesn't have any clothes on.

She looks hot and sweaty, like she's been running. Her curly hair is a mess. There are ropes around her wrists that connect to the posts of the bed. Her bottom is bright red, like she'd been spanked for misbehaving. But adults don't get spankings. And he's never seen someone look happy while being spanked, and when he first opened the door her eyes looked full of that same kind of happiness as when she eats sweets.

His father is standing by the bed, his clothes on, and he is in the process of tying a piece of fabric around her mouth. But he looks so different as well, unlike any version of his father Draco's ever seen. He too looks like he's been running, strands of his hair have fallen out of place, and his white shirt-sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, which Draco's never ever seen him do before.

His governess looks shocked and embarrassed, the fabric between her open lips cutting into her cheeks. His father looks slightly surprised, but never embarrassed, remaining so calm that he even finishes knotting the fabric around her mouth with a tight jerk.

Then his father reaches for the canopy bed curtain and pulls it shut, shielding Draco's governess from view.

Draco continues to stand numbly at the door, his hand on the knob.

Before his father comes over to him, Draco watches him lean behind the curtain. He hears the sound of a kiss, and a whisper in his father's voice that sounds like: "Don't lose count." Which doesn't make any sense.

Then his father calmly walks over and ushers Draco back out into the corridor, closing the door behind them.

Draco stands wide-eyed, staring up at him, not knowing what to say.

He wonders if he's done something wrong. His father waits patiently for him to speak.

"Is - Is she alright? I heard..."

"She's alright," his father answers him softly, a slight smile on his lips. Why is he smiling?

"But… she was screaming," Draco says.

His father lets out a sigh. "You were not meant to hear that. I got carried away and forgot to cast a silencing spell. Your father can be somewhat reckless, when it comes to certain things." He smiles again, in that sideways way which Draco knows always means he's smiling about something that isn't for Draco to know. And he'd used words he didn't know, so Draco knew that his father had said something for himself and not for Draco.

Then his father smiled a warm smile that definitely was meant for him. A comforting one. "You needn't worry about her."

Draco nods faintly. He wouldn't question his father on anything.

He feels like he should leave but he can't help but ask -

"Are you alright? You look..." Draco tries not to gape but he's never seen his father look messy or out of place.

His father crosses his arms over his chest, barely holding back another one of those smiles Draco wishes he got to know about. "I am perfectly alright, thank you. Now back to bed with you."

Wanting to be a good son and wanting the comfort of his room, Draco turns to go, but he so so so badly wants to know. He has to know.

He turns slowly back around to his father, who remains in front of the door watching him.

Draco pulls at the fabric of his pyjama sleeve. "I - I don't understand."

His father places a strong hand on his shoulder. "When you're older, Draco. Now go back to your room."

Draco nods.

"Yes, Father."

. . .

A/N: Next week, Chapter Two. In which Draco grows up...