The Girl Next Door

The Study

We know the road ahead is long 

We only make it if we're strong

The world we know now

In time will be gone

One day we'll be dancing on the sun

- Dancing on the Sun by Bahari

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WARNING: This chapter contains corporal punishment of both a minor and a woman for unjust reasons. It's non-explicit, but be careful if this might upset you!

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I rap softly on the door to my father's study, taking a deep breath and trying to calm my shaking body. "You, um, you summoned me, father?"

"Come in."

I close my eyes and swing the study door open. My father sits with his head bowed, his long white-blond hair tied neatly back, and his elbows resting on his mahogany desk. My mother is also in the room, sitting stiffly on a low divan with her lips tightly pursed.

"Take a seat, Draco." My father motions to the uncomfortable looking stool in the center of the room, and I hurry towards it on unsteady legs. "As I'm sure you're aware, your mother and I have asked you hear for a reason. We received an owl from Hogwarts today, did you know that?"

My heart drops like a stone. I grit my teeth, blocking out a groan of horror as I fight for a response. "No sir." I say quietly, staring intently at my feet.

"Look at me when I speak to you, Draco." My father's deep voice is simultaneously silky and commanding, sending shivers over my spine. I raise my eyes, looking fearfully into his stone cold eyes, which everyone says I inherited. "The letter included your grades, as well as the percentage with which they compared to those of the other students."

I swallow, only to find that my tongue has adhered itself to the roof of my dry mouth. This is going to be a repeat of my first year—and last year. I just know it. "Yes, father." I choke out, hugging myself instinctively to stop the spasms in my arms and chest.

"Do you have any idea of how you did?" My father raises himself in his seat, his long fingers tracing a plump envelope on the desk before him.

He's playing a cat and mouse game with me—he does often. No matter what I say, the outcome will be the same. He's only doing this to shatter my nerve. "No sir—but I did try my best, and-"

"Silence!" My father bellows, shoving his chair back and striding over to me. He seizes my ear, twisting my head to the side awkwardly. I wince in pain, sealing my lips and resolving not to make a sound. "When a Malfoy gives his best, he always succeeds. You did not succeed in anything but failing me, again. Do you understand what that means? It means that you are either lying, and didn't give your best effort, or you are not a Malfoy. Which is it, then?"

I open my mouth, trying to make a noise, but nothing comes.

"Lucius. That's enough—he's just a boy." My mother says softly, and my father gives my ear another vicious tug.

"He is fourteen years old. I should have thought that three years at Hogwarts would have made a man out of him—I should have sent you to Dumstrang instead!"

I inhale sharply and turn my eyes upon my father. I ignore the fast rising heat in my cheeks and force myself to speak. "I am a man! But I am not a liar. I gave my best effort—Hermione Granger is just..."

My father snatches the letter from his desk, pulling a gold embossed slip of parchment from the envelope and thrusting it into my hands. "Read." He commands, and I obey.