"I don't think the wards let sound through--"
Still leaning on the door with one hand, Draco shot him an irritated glance. "Please. He's an elf, not a student! A Malfoy elf, and I'm a Malfoy, and I just directed that at him! You see why we need a better Magical Creatures teacher? You don't know anything!"
Sure enough, in the next moment a high, squeaky voice came through the walls. "Master Draco? Dubby's bringing a letter for you."
A letter? Draco mouthed at Harry. If anything, that news made him look even more worried.
"From whom?" Draco shouted, baring his teeth. Harry thought then that he was expecting it to be from Lucius.
"From Master Draco's mother," came the answer. "Can Dubby come in, Master Draco?"
"No, Slubby can't come in," Draco scathed. "Master Draco remembers you, you twisted little green lizard!"
"Dubby mustn't return to Wiltshire without delivering Mistress' letter--"
"Then attach it to an owl and get the fuck out of here!" Draco screamed.
"Mistress said to be putting it into Master Draco's hands--"
"Well, you can't!" Draco harshly retorted.
At that, they began to hear a rhythmic pounding on the door. Thud, thud, thud, the rhythm coming at slow, perfectly spaced intervals.
Draco snorted, then curled his lip in derision. "You think I give a shrivelfig if you bash your bloody head wide open on the door, Blubby? Go on, just go on!"
Thud, thud, thud.
"Draco, we can't just let him bang his head against the door--"
"Who says we can't?" Stepping back, Draco brushed his hands on his trousers as though even speaking to a house-elf had somehow sullied him. "I just wish we had some thumbscrews to lend the little shite!"
Thud, thud, thud.
Thud, thud, THUD.
"I'm firecalling Severus," Harry announced, shaking his head.
Draco sat down in a plush chair and tilted his head. "Yes, you do that," he said. "But by all means, take your time. I'm just going to sit here and enjoy a good listen."
"Draco, that's cruel!"
"Oh, shut up, Harry!" the Slytherin boy erupted. "You don't know what you're talking about! I grew up with that damned elf and I know what he's like. I hope he drops dead from massive head trauma!"
All at once the truth came clear for Harry. "Oh, God. Is he one of the elves who... um..."
Draco ignored the question, saying only, "Are you going to get Severus in here to help us? No rush, mind."
A bit worried about Draco's sudden bloodthirsty frame of mind, Harry kept one eye on him as he used the Floo and listened to the persistent thud, thud, thud filling the rooms to overflowing.
------------------------------------------------------
As it turned out, Snape was in a preparation period and not with students. He came at once, frowning to see Draco listening to the noise as though it were the finest of concertos. Draco just gave a careless little shrug.
"Make him stop so I can talk to him," the Potions Master brusquely ordered after one glance at the parchment.
"He doesn't take orders from me, I'm afraid," the Slytherin boy announced as he affected a yawn.
"I think you'll find a Malfoy has some influence," Snape dryly returned.
Draco lifted his hand in an indolent wave, much as though he was lord of the manor. "I expect he'll stop when he passes out. Hmm, wonder just how long that might take?"
"Now, Draco."
"Oh, very well." With lazy grace, Draco pushed to his feet and went back to the door. "You've got a letter for me, have you, Scrubby?"
The pounding noise stopped at once and was replaced by a wobbly, drunken-sounding voice. "Can Dubby come in and deliver it now, Master Draco?"
Snape waved his wand several times, muttering, then accioed a vial from his office and sprinkled it at the base of the door before giving Draco a significant glance.
"Pass the letter across the threshold, Stubby!" the Slytherin boy bit out.
Dubby's voice grew positively frightened. "Dubby mustn't," he squeaked in a high, panicked tone. "Mistress said no! Said to put Mistress' letter into Master Draco's own hand--"
Swearing a bit, Snape at once set to work restoring the wards his potion had weakened.
Harry bit his lip. "It could be a trap, do you think?"
Thud, thud, thud, the noise began again, but this time Draco was in no mood to savor it. "Just get out of here, Tubby!" he screamed. "Tell my mother not to bother her pretty little self about me! Since she obviously loves Lucius better, I hope they rot in Azkaban together!"
Thud, thud, thud, the sound this time interspersed with words. "Dubby mustn't--- leave without--- delivering Mistress' letter---"
Snape growled something about being able to handle this one if he could handle Kreacher, then wand at the ready, instructed Draco, "Open the door."
Thud--
"Are you insane?" Draco demanded. "Like hell I'll open the door! What if he attacks Harry?"
Thud--
Snape began counting on his fingers. "One, house-elves have little offensive magic at their disposal. Two, Harry can almost certainly defend himself and if he can't I know enough Dark Arts to obliterate a house-elf. Three, I don't fancy a dent in the magic making my door masquerade as a wall! And four, as any Slytherin worthy of my house should figure out for himself, I'd like to see this message to determine if Lucius has a new plot afoot! Now, let him in!"
THUD--
"Fine," Draco muttered, pulling out his own wand. He cast Abrire, then yanked the door open so suddenly that the house-elf tumbled inside on mid-thud and lay sprawled at his feet. Draco slammed the door, in the same moment pulling back his foot to give the elf a vicious kick in the head.
"Draco, don't!" Harry yelled in dismay, but he was too late. Dubby flew across the room and hit the wall. Cloaks from the hooks above rained down on him as he lay in a pitiful heap, but then he crawled free of them and rose unsteadily to his feet, his little hands rubbing against his forehead which was bruised and sore from all those thuds. A slow trickle of greenish blood oozed from where he'd been kicked. Draco glanced toward it, his eyes sparking with satisfaction... and something worse.
"That's quite enough!" Snape roared.
"He's the one who helped with the wizard's beating--"
"I said, that is quite enough," Snape coldly interrupted.
Draco gave the Potions Master a disgusted glare, his hands clenched at his sides as he stood with his feet apart as though prepared for battle.
Clearing his throat, Harry laid a tentative hand on his brother's arm. He could feel muscles underneath the silk sleeve of Draco's shirt, muscles that were pulled taut, braided with tension. "It's not right to kick him," he softly said, only to hear Draco make a snarl deep in the back of his throat.
"I'm a Malfoy, in case it's slipped your mind! We aren't much for turning the other cheek and letting bygones be bygones! I give back as good as I get, and I owe this elf a right proper beating!"
"You may hate the house-elf but you will not assault him, not while you live under my roof!" Snape rebuked the Slytherin boy, his own gaze glacial.
"You mean if I kick him again I get to go live in Slytherin like I want?" Draco sneered.
"I'm hardly likely to reward you for outright defiance. Now, I believe there is the matter of a letter to attend to? Or would you rather indulge your rather Gryffindor recklessness, Draco, instead of concentrating on strategy?"