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FIC: Discipline (Harry Potter, various characters, PG-13)
SUMMARY: The Gryffindor Trio cope with unexpectedly becoming slaveowners. Mostly humourous, with a sting in the tail. Based on the prompt: In their 7th year, House Slytherin has to be in servitude to House Gryffindor. That would take a slightly different contrivance, wouldn't it? (Amanuensis)
WARNINGS: Implied noncon.
NOTES: Originally posted under the penname Kohl.
After Salazar Slytherin's sudden withdrawal from Hogwarts, the other Founders grew mistrustful of his hand-picked students. Those in their final year in particular were growing ever more secretive, and ever more powerful. It was decided, after long deliberations, that the best way of controlling them would be to bind them to the service of students from another House in the year they came of age, thus providing an effective method of disciplining them. Gryffindor House was chosen for this task, as being the most resourceful and so the best equipped to handle any problem that might arise. And so began a proud school tradition....
"Well that's all very well," Harry broke in, interrupting Hermione mid-flow, "but what are we supposed to do with them?"
"You've got a bloody nerve making out that you're the one with the problem, Potter," Draco snapped. "I'm not exactly thrilled about this situation either, you know." He began readjusting his tie to cover his freshly-fitted collar.
Hermione put the book down, looking exasperated.
"It is a school rule, Harry, and one of our longest-running traditions beside. I mean, come on, it could be worse. I don't suppose we're actually expected to treat them like slaves. It's just... a formality, that's all."
"Damn right it could be worse," muttered Ron, casting a resentful glance at Goyle. "Look what I've got. I mean, honestly. We spent the past six years trying to avoid this lot."
"Believe me, Weasley, the feeling's more than mutual."
Nobody was paying much attention to Draco. All over the Gryffindor Common Room, newly appointed masters were trying to decide how best to cope with their entirely unwanted slaves.
"Really, Ron," said Hermione, looking at Crabbe somewhat nervously. "No need to panic, is there? How bad could it be?"
**********
By the third day, Harry was about ready to strangle Draco with his own collar. Had he not been pretty sure that that did not come within
the terms of the contract, he might well have done so. Being magically constrained not to rebel against the rules, Draco had decided his best method of resistance was obeying them to the letter. Harry couldn't get rid of him. Claiming that part of his duty was to protect his 'master', Draco stayed within ten feet of him at all times. When he slept, when he tried to talk to his friends, even at Quidditch practice. Harry was not happy to have his rival team's Captain dog his every move, but he had no choice. It was all he could do not to get Draco to ride on the same broom as him. At least, he thought savagely, having once again failed to get Draco to let him
shower alone, he's not getting a lot of practice with his team either. It wasn't much consolation, not with those eyes watching him in insolent silence.
**********
Ron had completely given up trying to give Goyle orders. He was sure the boy did it on purpose. You had to be pretty smart to be that stupid. It must take concious effort to interpret 'Get lost, would you?' as 'Wander round the castle until you can't find your way back, thus making it my responsibility, as your master, to find you again and make sure you're alright.' When he did, he decided, he would just not speak to him for the rest of the year. That had to be the easiest thing.
**********
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Where's Crabbe?"
"He's doing homework."
"Your homework?"
"Harry, don't be ridiculous, as if I would let him. He's doing his own homework. I'll be along to supervise him in a minute. I'm going to pull his grades up by the end of the year if it kills me."
"Uh, Hermione? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the point of servitude that they do work for us, not the other way around?"
"Oh, you're so medieval. I could almost feel sorry for Draco, the way you make him follow you around."
Silence.
"Well listen, I think that it's our responsibility to... well, to take responsibility. We're supposed to be disciplining them, aren't we? I think that ought to involve improving their study work, don't you? I'm sure Crabbe could do better if he really tried."
Silence.
"Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Did I ever tell you you were totally, utterly, stark raving mad?"
**********
The whip cracked again, sending a streak of pain along Pansy's back. She cowered into a corner, away from the blows.
"Is there something wrong with your hearing?"
She cringed. "No, master."
"Then why is it, when I tell you quite distinctly to iron my robes and lay them out neatly, that I find them in a crumpled heap on the floor?"
She couldn't answer. What had she been thinking? "I'm sorry, master."
"As well you should be." His voice softened. "Since we're still so early in the year, I'll give you another chance to escape punishment. You will clean my boots. They will be spotless when I put them on tomorrow. Otherwise," he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I'll make you lick the dirt off, understood?"
She nodded, still trembling.
"There, there," he said, raising her to her knees and pressing the side of her head to his belt buckle. "You just be a good girl, and we'll get along fine, alright?"
She understood, and went to work.
Neville smiled down at her indulgently as she fumbled with the zip of his trousers. It was shaping up to be a pretty good year.
WARNINGS: Implied noncon.
NOTES: Originally posted under the penname Kohl.
After Salazar Slytherin's sudden withdrawal from Hogwarts, the other Founders grew mistrustful of his hand-picked students. Those in their final year in particular were growing ever more secretive, and ever more powerful. It was decided, after long deliberations, that the best way of controlling them would be to bind them to the service of students from another House in the year they came of age, thus providing an effective method of disciplining them. Gryffindor House was chosen for this task, as being the most resourceful and so the best equipped to handle any problem that might arise. And so began a proud school tradition....
"Well that's all very well," Harry broke in, interrupting Hermione mid-flow, "but what are we supposed to do with them?"
"You've got a bloody nerve making out that you're the one with the problem, Potter," Draco snapped. "I'm not exactly thrilled about this situation either, you know." He began readjusting his tie to cover his freshly-fitted collar.
Hermione put the book down, looking exasperated.
"It is a school rule, Harry, and one of our longest-running traditions beside. I mean, come on, it could be worse. I don't suppose we're actually expected to treat them like slaves. It's just... a formality, that's all."
"Damn right it could be worse," muttered Ron, casting a resentful glance at Goyle. "Look what I've got. I mean, honestly. We spent the past six years trying to avoid this lot."
"Believe me, Weasley, the feeling's more than mutual."
Nobody was paying much attention to Draco. All over the Gryffindor Common Room, newly appointed masters were trying to decide how best to cope with their entirely unwanted slaves.
"Really, Ron," said Hermione, looking at Crabbe somewhat nervously. "No need to panic, is there? How bad could it be?"
**********
By the third day, Harry was about ready to strangle Draco with his own collar. Had he not been pretty sure that that did not come within
the terms of the contract, he might well have done so. Being magically constrained not to rebel against the rules, Draco had decided his best method of resistance was obeying them to the letter. Harry couldn't get rid of him. Claiming that part of his duty was to protect his 'master', Draco stayed within ten feet of him at all times. When he slept, when he tried to talk to his friends, even at Quidditch practice. Harry was not happy to have his rival team's Captain dog his every move, but he had no choice. It was all he could do not to get Draco to ride on the same broom as him. At least, he thought savagely, having once again failed to get Draco to let him
shower alone, he's not getting a lot of practice with his team either. It wasn't much consolation, not with those eyes watching him in insolent silence.
**********
Ron had completely given up trying to give Goyle orders. He was sure the boy did it on purpose. You had to be pretty smart to be that stupid. It must take concious effort to interpret 'Get lost, would you?' as 'Wander round the castle until you can't find your way back, thus making it my responsibility, as your master, to find you again and make sure you're alright.' When he did, he decided, he would just not speak to him for the rest of the year. That had to be the easiest thing.
**********
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Where's Crabbe?"
"He's doing homework."
"Your homework?"
"Harry, don't be ridiculous, as if I would let him. He's doing his own homework. I'll be along to supervise him in a minute. I'm going to pull his grades up by the end of the year if it kills me."
"Uh, Hermione? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the point of servitude that they do work for us, not the other way around?"
"Oh, you're so medieval. I could almost feel sorry for Draco, the way you make him follow you around."
Silence.
"Well listen, I think that it's our responsibility to... well, to take responsibility. We're supposed to be disciplining them, aren't we? I think that ought to involve improving their study work, don't you? I'm sure Crabbe could do better if he really tried."
Silence.
"Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Did I ever tell you you were totally, utterly, stark raving mad?"
**********
The whip cracked again, sending a streak of pain along Pansy's back. She cowered into a corner, away from the blows.
"Is there something wrong with your hearing?"
She cringed. "No, master."
"Then why is it, when I tell you quite distinctly to iron my robes and lay them out neatly, that I find them in a crumpled heap on the floor?"
She couldn't answer. What had she been thinking? "I'm sorry, master."
"As well you should be." His voice softened. "Since we're still so early in the year, I'll give you another chance to escape punishment. You will clean my boots. They will be spotless when I put them on tomorrow. Otherwise," he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I'll make you lick the dirt off, understood?"
She nodded, still trembling.
"There, there," he said, raising her to her knees and pressing the side of her head to his belt buckle. "You just be a good girl, and we'll get along fine, alright?"
She understood, and went to work.
Neville smiled down at her indulgently as she fumbled with the zip of his trousers. It was shaping up to be a pretty good year.