Whelp

*Chapter 23*: Chapter 23

Whelp -- Chapter 23

By jharad17

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Honest. She's rich, I'm not.

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'Did you shame him into it? Did you know he was afraid? Get out of my sight! Harry could have died because of you! Get out! GO!'

Casting a last, tearful glance at Harry, Draco slipped off his chair and fled.

Severus held Harry a little tighter, but even as he watched the other boy scramble out of the infirmary, he sent Nelli after him, not wanting him to come to any harm. If nothing else, Lucius would kill him.

'I cannot believe,' Poppy said, just to the right of him, 'that I just heard words like that come out of your mouth, Severus Snape. And to your own godson!'

Surprised, as she rarely used such a tone with him, he turned to the Medi-witch, and immediately shrank away from the rage in her eyes. 'Poppy, I—'

'I did not even have a chance to look the boy over!' she spat, her voice quiet for Harry's sake, he imagined, since she looked like she wanted to scream at him. 'And don't you think he felt badly enough already?! He needed comforting, not that . . . that, whatever it is you call it!'

'Poppy, I—' he started again, only to be interrupted again.

'I don't want to hear it. I will care for Harry here, and you will find your godson and apologize!'

He raised one hand to her, in supplication? He wanted to speak, dammit! He had every right to dole out harsh words when they were merited, he did! Then why did he feel like he was seven years old again, himself?

'And don't you even think of coming back here until you do! I won't have such horrible things said in my infirmary.' With that, the Medi-with aimed her wand at him and hissed, 'Now, Severus!'

'But Harry—'

'Will be fine with some rest. Draco will not.'

Her wand did not waver, and for the first time since he'd met the woman, almost sixteen years ago, when his Head of House had sent him up here, on the first day he arrived at Hogwarts, unnourished and sporting bruises and a broken arm courtesy of his own father, he actually feared what she might do to him. Struck hard by remembrance of that day, and the father he had always feared and hated, Severus slumped back against the headboard. He nodded, ashamed, and slid out from behind his son, lying the boy gently against his pillows.

'If he wakes . . .'

'I'll be here, and I'll tell him you'll return.' Poppy's tone softened as soon as she'd seen he was doing what she wanted, or maybe she guessed at the reason for the heat in his cheeks.

She had seen him for what he was. He had never wanted to become the man his father had been, and yet, at first provocation . . . How was he ever going to teach at this school? he wondered as he made his way to the infirmary doors. Student were like to be unruly – they certainly had been in his day – and would he treat them all thusly?

Worse, how could he ever be a good parent to Harry, if he blew up the first time he was faced with a child's unthinking foolishness? What if it had been Harry who had decided to get the brooms? Would he have cast such aspersions on his own son? A sinking feeling inside told him more than he wanted to of his own nature. Doubts of his fitness as a parent reared in him again, and he pushed them ruthlessly to the side. Now was not the time to wallow in his own inadequacies. Now was the time to go grovel for a boy.

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'Draco.' Severus kept his tone as gentle as he could. He was still angry, but his upset with the boy was tempered with his knowledge that his godson did not deserve all he had said earlier.

From where he huddled on his bed, in the room he was to share with Harry, Draco made no sign he had heard anyone say his name. So Severus said it again, and this time, added a, 'Look at me, please.'

The boy swiped his arm across his face before turning over to do so, and Severus understood more with that one gesture than he could have with any words just how well he had failed. Even now, Draco needed to appear strong, and without feelings, a legacy of the elder Malfoy that Severus had hoped to erase. He hoped now to just be given the chance.

Draco's face was splotchy, with the cut he had sustained starting to bruise around the edges, though at least it was not bleeding anymore. And his hair – generally perfectly coifed – was still messy from his broom flight and race through the castle. But the boy didn't shed tears in front of him, and held his gaze steadily, with a touch of wariness, as if expecting more scorn to be heaped upon him. The very idea pierced Severus' heart.

'I . . . spoke out of turn, earlier,' Severus said to the boy. 'I was . . . upset, about Harry being hurt, and I took it out on you.'

Draco stared at him, eyes narrowing, but did not reply.

Severus sighed. No doubt Poppy would know if he said the actual words. 'And I am sorry. I should not have given vent to my anger in such a fashion, especially when you were still in need of medical attention.'

Pale eyebrows went up over grey eyes like a summer storm. 'Is Harry all right?'