I welcome any constructive criticism you have to offer. Please feel free to leave a review on this story. Thanks!

WARNING: Once again, this story contains the corporal punishment of a consenting minor.

I hope you'll forgive me for taking a few creative liberties with the characters. Some of them are a little ooc.

"Do not move." The slow drawl rang through Malfoy Manor. A shiver ran down Draco's back. "Do not even speak. I will return shortly."

The young man listened fearfully as his father left the room, and let out a sigh, hardly daring to breathe.

He hadn't been planning on moving, not really, but now that he had been specifically ordered not to, his arms and legs positively shook with nervous energy. He kept his gaze on the floor. Behind the non-threatening tone of his father's voice was a very angry man, very angry indeed. Draco had broken the one rule he had been instructed not to.

As they'd prepared for Abraxas's arrival earlier this morning, Lucius had carefully ordered his son to be polite. "Now, I know this may be difficult for you, but do try and treat your grandfather with some degree of respect. He deserves basic civility at the very least, does he not?"

"Yes, father. I will not disappoint you."

But for some reason, Draco had been unable to complete even that simple task, and although his outburst had not been a serious one, his grandfather was now extremely offended, and his father very angry.

Draco could not remember the last time his father had been this angry with him.

The sound of the door creaking on its hinges made him jump. His father had returned. Now they were alone at last, and there was no doubt in Draco's mind as to what was about to occur.

"I am sure it is not necessary to explain to you how deeply disappointed I am. Not only were you very rude to my father, but you also directly disobeyed an order I gave you prior to his arrival. Do you have any memory of that at all?"

Draco, too afraid to say a word, merely nodded once. Usually, at this point in the procedure, the young boy would profusely argue his case, or refuse to submit to his father's authority in the hopes of somehow avoiding the inevitable, but right now, he was reluctant to even utter a simple apology.

"I expect your full attention when I speak with you, son," he said sharply. Obediently, Draco brought his eyes up from the floor.

"Thank you," he said drily and began to speak with escalating volume. "As I was saying, your grandfather is now furious and feels validated in his opinion that all young men and women are disrespectful, uncultured, apathetic creatures. Is that how you wish your grandfather to view your generation?"

"If he judges an entire group of people on the basis of a singular event, then he is a very poor judge of character indeed," Draco muttered.

"Hold your tongue! I am very close to setting aside this paddle and using something more painful in its place," he hissed. "Do not tempt me."

Draco swallowed, his mouth too dry to respond. Never before had he seen his father in such a state, so close to rage- not even when Draco had stolen his wand at six years of age. For some reason, hearing his father so angry made him want to drop to his knees and beg for leniency, but he could not. Such an act of outward insolence would be unthinkable.

Composing himself, Lucius walked smoothly across the room, robes billowing around his ankles, and positioned himself beside a grand mahogany desk. As he passed, Draco caught a glimpse of the smooth wooden instrument in his hand and choked back a whimper. "After we have finished here, we will go directly to your grandfather, and you will apologize for what you've done."

Draco tucked his trembling hands behind his back. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Furthermore, I have not yet decided if your punishment will extend beyond this session. I want my views on this sort of insolent behavior to be infinitely clear to you."

His breath hitched in his throat. "Surely you cannot mean to-"

"I can, and I will, boy! I may choose to paddle you tomorrow, and perhaps once more the day after that! I daresay you shall survive the experience, though not without a few bruises."

There was a long silence as Draco struggled to keep his eyes from sinking back to the ground. A thrill of fear shot through his chest.

After some time, he realized that his father expected a response, so he gathered his courage and answered with a hushed tone. "I understand, father."

"Come, son."

Immediately, the young man crossed the office, and not wasting any time, bent over the wood. This was, of course, a humiliating position to be in, and being humiliated was something Draco hotly disliked. It was this action of submission that brought to life the streak of self-preservation within him.

"You must respect Abraxas, son. He is, after all, your grandfather," began Lucius in a rational tone.

Draco clenched the table in irritation. Before they began, sometimes his father chose to have a discussion about his actions, in order to better understand one another. It was infuriatingly demeaning, but the young man knew that it was vital to keep his composure when being disciplined, so he took a deep breath and said, in as reasonable a tone as he could muster, "Neither his relation to me nor his older age warrant my respect. I do not believe him to be a respectable man."

Without skipping a beat, his father responded. "How you view your grandfather makes no difference. You must treat him with respect and honor, just as you must treat all people."

"You would rather I treated him with false emotion? Respect cannot be given or taken on a whim. It is earned over time."

"To be civil and polite is not lying, Draco, as you well know." He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Tsk, tsk. Where has this attitude come from, my son? You were so delightfully compliant earlier."

Draco closed his eyes, too wrapped up in the moment to worry about the consequences his words could bring. "You always preach of honesty's importance. Yet, now you insist I honor a man who I have deemed dishonorable."

Lucius scoffed. "Do you really mean to tell me that you believe basic courtesy is an act of deception?"

The boy paused, heart pounding loudly in the silence.

"That is what I thought. This is nothing more than a thinly veiled attempt to avoid well-deserved discipline."

Draco didn't respond.

"If you believe that your punishment is unfair, or that you do not deserve to be corrected, by all means, speak now. You know I am a just man. I will give you the chance to at least speak." He waited patiently, and Draco did not respond, his face growing hot.

As much as he was dreading his imminent paddling, Draco couldn't deny that he deserved it. His father had, very sensibly, warned him against disrespect towards Abraxas. He had blatantly chosen to disregard the warning, and so had placed himself in this uncomfortable position.

No, as awful and painful as this situation was, Draco could not say that it hadn't been earned.

With a reproachful tone that brought color to his son's cheeks, Lucius continued. "You are much more intelligent than this. Do not try to weasel out of a situation you brought upon yourself."

Draco slowly closed his eyes. The time had come. Desperately trying to still his shaking hands, his predicament finally dawned on him, and fear coiled in his stomach like a snake. He resisted the urge to turn around and embrace his father, begging for forgiveness.

BAM!

The paddle came down with unthinkable vigor, shoving Draco forward. "Oh, god," he moaned, blinking back tears, and more quickly than lightning, the paddle slammed down on his stinging flesh again. As if by reflex, the young man cried out in pain.

Again, the boy felt that same tingle of dread. Lucius had never started out with such terribly hard strikes before, and Draco began to realize, horrified, that it would be impossible to last for long this time before he unraveled.

Draco liked to consider himself to be a person with a high discomfort tolerance. He'd broken multiple bones, endured several painful hexes from angry students, and chose to avoid tears in public. But these disciplinary sessions with his father... Something about them was different. They made him feel weak. They made him feel like nothing, no more than a child.

Despair swept through his very core, and it made him angry. Come, boy! His father's voice rang in his memory. Self-pity is futile. You must persevere.

And so, as the initial shock of the paddling faded, for quite a long time, not another sound crossed his lips while his father continued to strike with clinical precision.

BAM!

Much later, as a particularly stinging swat rained down, Draco could sense his control beginning to slip from his fingers. By this point, his arms were trembling, and his jaw and neck ached from their perpetual tension. He adjusted his feet uncomfortably and wondered uneasily how much time had passed. Fifteen minutes? An hour? It was impossible to tell.

Lucius finally broke the silence. "Come, son. What do you have to hide? You and I both know that it is very difficult to be quiet during a spanking."

Draco seethed. Oh, how he hated that wretched, vile word, and his father knew it. Spanking was a word that people used to threaten toddlers, a word that did not belong in a mature conversation of any kind. This was a technique his father used when he was interested in hurrying the process along; he hoped that perhaps belittling Draco with his language would provoke the boy into lashing out, inviting a swifter end.

BAM!

Draco said nothing, afraid that if he opened his mouth, his endurance would collapse.

BAM!

"You must answer me when spoken to."

Draco bit his lip and whimpered. "Yes, father," he mumbled, exhaustion finally beginning to smother his defiance.

"Ah, are we feeling less sure of ourselves now?"

All it took were those words, and Draco's anger burned again, low and hot. Don't say a word. He warned himself. It's playing right into his hands.

BAM!

"Well, my son? Are we beginning to feel less arrogant now that our little bottom has been thoroughly spanked?"

Draco's anger leaped up like a stoked fire, flickering uncontrollably in his chest. "I'm afraid not, sir," he growled through gritted teeth, bracing himself for the impending blow.

BAM!

Back arching, he cried out in absolute agony. His voice broke off pathetically, but at the moment, he couldn't find the energy to care.

"My, my... You are in a very cheeky mood today. Worry not. I shall deal with it appropriately."

Thrice in succession, Lucius brought down the wood cruelly against the swollen flesh, and to Draco's great alarm, he began to feel the harsh sting of tears behind his eyes. Father's punishments almost never made him cry this early on.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Draco bit his lip and groaned.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Curses spilled from his mouth under his breath, and they felt dangerously satisfying to utter.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Oh, father, please-" he moaned, but immediately stopped himself.

His father disliked begging.

There was a pause behind him, and Draco felt like bursting into tears. He hadn't meant to say it- honestly, he hadn't. "I'm sorry," he instantly said, knowing it was pointless. "I did not mean to-"

"Stand." His father interrupted, so he did, slowly and painfully. "Need I remind you that I do not like it when people plead?"

"No, sir," he replied shakily. Please don't make me do it. Please, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-

"Remove your robes, Draco."

"Father, I beg you-"

"Now, Draco."

Tears sprang to his eyes, and at that moment, he felt an overpowering urge to fall limply into his father's arms, but he could not. Close contact was absolutely forbidden when Draco was enduring the consequences of his actions. There could be no comfort in this event; for his father believed that it was impossible to simultaneously act as the hand of justice and a shoulder to cry on. Draco instead inhaled, cleared his throat, and said "Yes, sir," as steadily as he could. As his father patiently looked on, he placed his robe neatly over the back of the chair with care.

Lucius frowned, studying his son's face. "Are you already in tears?" He scoffed. "Usually, you aren't bawling until fifteen minutes have passed. It's not yet been five!"

Draco turned away. "No," he muttered. "You are mistaken, sir." He bent rigidly over the desk and shut his mouth tightly.

Of course, it did not really matter that he had said the word "please." This was simply their ritual; at some point along the way, Lucius would find something his son had seemingly done wrong, and force him to remove his robes. It was almost merciful this way- the punishment could not go on for nearly as long if he was wearing less clothing.

"Very well, then. If you're so eager to continue."

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

The effect was immediate. Draco held his breath as hot tears at last ran down his cheeks. Without the thick protection of his robes, every strike brought so much more pain. Don't let him know you're crying. He commanded himself. You must not let him know.

But it was an impossible task. His heaving shoulders gave him away, and no one can stay silent forever. Before long, he was quietly weeping. Goddamn it, Draco. Why did you have to say anything?

Satisfied that the current method was now eliciting a proper response, Lucius continued by the count of five.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

By the time only a few more minutes had passed, the boy was sobbing openly into his folded arms.

Lucius stepped back, admiring his handiwork. This would leave bruises for weeks, no doubt. Disrespect could not be tolerated. He glanced at his son's pitiful crying, and noted with fascination that the boy was still attempting to stifle his wails. Normally, at this point in time, he was in too much pain to care. He still believes that he is in control. Lucius thought to himself, mildly amused. Such audacity.

He pursed his lips. Now there was the issue of Draco's apology to deal with. He could force him to apologize to his grandfather right away, while he was still in tears, but that would be a very mortifying experience. Draco did not like being embarrassed- it made him angry, and right now, anger would be counterproductive. Quite frankly, Lucius wasn't sure if he had the energy to force his son to do as he was told.

So, in a sudden burst of sympathy, the man decided to allow his son a little time to prepare. "We will be visiting your grandfather in ten minutes. I will return to this room in five. Do not make us relive this experience, Draco. I believe that you and I both have no desire to go through such a thing ever again."

And with that, he gently set down the paddle, and quietly left his weeping son alone in the study.

It took nearly three minutes for his crying to move to the point where he could take slow, deep breaths. Control yourself. He instructed himself. Master your emotions. His grandfather was an avid believer that crying was an action that should be reserved for little girls and widows, not men of status such as themselves. Draco had no desire to be ridiculed for his tears.

He could hear it now. "Bah! Real men don't cry. Bottle it up, my boy, that's how we did it in the old days, you know."

Over time, the burning on his rear end mellowed, so he gritted his teeth and stood. This action caused him to erupt into fresh tears, and he leaned on the desk heavily, gasping for air. Breathing loudly, he reached out and stiffly donned his robe, glancing in the mirror to make sure it was straight.

That glance in the mirror confirmed what he'd been afraid of- his cheeks were impossibly blotchy, his hair a mess. He rubbed the robe's sleeves hurriedly over his face, and smoothed his rumpled hair, but it was to no avail. Still he retained the distinguished look of someone who has been soundly thrashed.

The door opened behind him. Draco straightened and cleared his throat. He turned as his father shut the door firmly, and leaned on the desk, eyeing his son.

"My goodness, you've recovered quickly. I'm impressed."

Ignoring this, Draco crossed the room and stood before him, staring straight ahead.

His father continued, "Understand that your grandfather may not be gracious with you, Draco. It is not in his nature to overlook situations in which he has been wronged. He may still be angry. It does not matter. I want you to be polite and tolerant of any discourtesy he may extend your way."

"Yes, father."

"Now, I would like very much to review your apology. Act as though I am your grandfather- speak to me now as you will to him."

Draco bit back a cutting remark and nodded. He cleared his throat. "Grandfather, I… have come to realize that the way I treated you earlier was very… disrespectful. I apologize, and I hope that my actions will not cause permanent damage to our relationship."

Lucius nodded. "Very good." He sighed. "Do try and be polite, Draco. I do not wish to go through this experience again, but make no mistake. I will, if necessary. It is very important to me that you have a healthy relationship with your relatives."

"Yes, sir."

As they began to exit the room, Draco suddenly stopped, and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Father, do I look... Do I look as though I have been..." he trailed off.

Lucius looked down at his son's swollen eyes and rosy cheeks. Yes. he immediately thought, but outwardly he shook his head fondly. "No, your ability to recover from a thrashing is truly remarkable. He may not even notice at all."

So, looking relieved, Draco left the room with his father, and there sat Abraxas, looking smug. His brief relief vanished like a cloud. Draco suddenly felt ashamed of his ruffled appearance. He had hoped that perhaps his grandfather would not know of what had just happened in his father's study, but now it was clear that he was perfectly aware. He nodded his head in greeting, ears burning. "Good evening, grandfather."

This was received by a general silence about the room, and then, to the boy's shock, the elder burst into gales of raucous laughter. Draco's brow furrowed. This situation was not laughable- not in the least. He glanced at his father in disgust. Discourteous, indeed.

Composing himself, the man finally spoke, this time to Lucius. "Forgive my outburst. But it appears as though your son has made a full recovery, quite quickly. Too quickly, if you ask me."

Draco's frown deepened.

Catching his expression, the old man clucked his tongue. "Oh, come now. There's no need to feel embarrassed, not here. We all know how you're feeling. I'm familiar with it, of course, and your father sure as hell is, too." He burst into more gales of laughter. "Isn't that right, son?"

Surprised, Draco looked up at his father, who did not return his gaze. "Indeed, it is, Abraxas." The man gave a wry smile.

"Oh, ho!" He said, turning back to Draco. "Don't tell me your father hasn't told you about our little sessions in his childhood!"

Lucius inclined his head. "I will admit that our discussions on the matter have been... sparing."

Abraxas laughed again, loud and booming. "Your father here used to be quite the stubborn little boy. Luckily, it wasn't difficult to beat the repentance out of him most of the time. Often, he-"

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Lucius interrupted. "As much as I would enjoy discussing this, I believe Draco has something he would like to say to you." He gave his son a pointed look, raising his eyebrows.

Draco raised his head and looked straight into his grandfather's eyes. "The way I treated you earlier was disrespectful." He stated calmly. "For that, I apologize."

Sobering, Abraxas nodded. "I accept your apology, and thank you for offering it. Very honorable of you, very honorable, indeed. However, be warned. Your father and I have discussed this. Next time, he won't bother to take you into another room to be dealt with. I will discipline you myself, in whatever way I see fit, and if that means I have to put you over my knee and spank your bare little bottom in front of your mother and father, that's what I'll do. Have I made myself clear?"

Draco's heart jumped in his chest. His jaw tightened. He turned to his father in disbelief, who gave a subtle nod. So it was clear what he was expected to say.

Ohhh, but he did not want to say it. He longed to speak his mind, and demand to know why Abraxas believed he had the right to pull out the paddle any time he pleased. Discipline should be a formal experience, consensual, and pre-planned. Not some sort of knee-jerk reaction, or a way to vent anger.

Bare bottomed... In the presence of his mother... Draco had never heard of such a thing, not even as a threat. He had always been punished alone, over his robes or slacks at least. That was simply the way it had always been done. He barely remembered being taken over the knee for a spanking- that had only happened when he was very young.

It occurred to him that this was probably the way his father had been raised, and he felt suddenly grateful that the practice had not continued.

"Yes, sir," he finally answered, nodding at his grandfather. He snuck a quick glance at his father, who was only smiling faintly.

Later, the two sat in the library, reading. Draco's sore backside made sitting a painful reminder of his predicament, and thinking about his pain made him want to know more about his father's youth. He had always assumed that his father was spanked as a child, and now it seemed obvious that Abraxas was probably the one who had disciplined him.

However, this was a topic that would need to be approached very delicately, so for nearly an hour, Draco deliberated, feeling conflicted. He wanted desperately to know more, but his father was a private man. Perhaps asking questions would be considered disrespectful and intrusive. Was it inappropriate to ask his father about such matters?

"Father, may I ask you a question?" He suddenly asked.

Lucius looked up in surprise and carefully closed his book. "You may."

The young man coughed. "I was wondering if... we will be... meeting again tomorrow. In your study," he said evasively.

His father smiled. "No, we will not. I have given some thought to the matter, and your display of obedience towards your grandfather during your apology convinced me that no further discipline was required."

Draco tried very hard to maintain a steady gaze with his father and swallowed nervously. "Also- that is, I'm very sorry to ask, but I was just wondering... You were… subjected to corporal punishment as a child. Were you not?"

Instantly, his expression changed. He sighed. "I had been wondering when you would inquire about this. Surely you must know the answer to your question."

"Ah, yes," he said quickly. "And… grandfather… was he the one who… disciplined you?"

Lucius flashed a quick smile. "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it 'discipline.' It was more like beating me senseless. I never learned much from those experiences." He cleared his throat. "I often wasn't even sure what I had done to earn punishment."

There was a very long pause. This was the most open his father had ever been about his childhood years. Those were off-limits, dangerous to even mention in passing. Draco wanted to know more.

"So why did you not fight back?" he whispered. "You are strong. Stronger than him."

Lucius paused, staring straight ahead. "Because I was quite afraid." He said simply.

Draco looked on in shock, completely at a loss of how to respond. And so neither of them said a word for a very long time. What can you possibly say to console someone who has undergone abuse for many years?

"Listen to me, Draco," he suddenly said sharply. "Are you listening closely?"

Draco's heart skipped a beat. Now he'd done it. His questions had crossed the line. "I'm sorry," he said immediately, gaze dropping to the fine carpet. "I should not have pried into your personal life. Forgive me."

Lucius smiled weakly. "No, no, my son," he said, his voice seeming thinner than usual.

Draco looked up and saw that his father was looking straight at him. "I want you to understand that-" he paused, clearing his throat, and continued, "that if you believe I am being unfair, or you do not understand what it is you have done to deserve discipline, you may always discuss it. I will always listen to you." He coughed. "I never want you to be afraid of me. Not the way I was afraid of him," he said softly.

And for the first time that Draco could remember, his father's eyes glimmered with real tears for a very long while.

He stood abruptly and turned away. "I will see you in the morning, Draco. Good night."

With that, he left his son alone in the library to ponder all that had occurred.