Title: Detention
Author: ldymusyc
Characters/Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Minerva McGonagall
Rating: NC17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Discipline.
Other Warnings: Crossgen, teacher/student, underaged character (16).
Word Count: 2150
Summary/Description: Draco serves his detention and earns his punishment. Gladly.
Author's Notes: I cannot believe I've never written this yet. Maybe I was just waiting for this theme. >:D Thanks so much to ragdoll for letting me post late.



I will not forget my essays.

Fifty lines.

I will complete my work.

Fifty lines.

I will take responsibility for my actions.

Fifty lines.

I will ask for help.

Draco shoved the parchment and quill away, knocking his inkwell onto the floor with a clatter and splash. Professor McGonagall looked at him over the tops of her glasses. "Do you have some difficulty with your assignment, Mister Malfoy?"

"Not doing this," he said, slumping into the hard chair with his legs sprawled under the desk. "This is rubbish. You can't make me do this. You can't make me, and I won't."

"Very well," she said, turning back to her parchments. "Then you are excused."

Draco stilled, listening to her quill scratch. He couldn't have heard her correctly. "I'm what?"

"You're excused, Mister Malfoy." She spoke without looking up from her writing. "You may go. Do close the door behind you, else the cold gets in."

Draco furrowed his brows. McGonagall continued to write, apparently ignoring him. He got up, slow, and walked to the door, slower. He put his fingers on the handle and turned back to look at McGonagall. "Er. Professor?"

She looked up, her brows arched. "Yes? Was there something more?"

"I was just ... wondering. Er." Draco took a deep breath. "Are you really tossing me out?"

"You've decided you're not doing your assignment, Mister Malfoy. If that is so, then I have no reason to keep you here. You are dismissed." She dipped her head and wrote for another minute, then looked up one more time. "Do you need to go to the infirmary and have your hearing examined? You were dismissed."

Draco scraped his teeth over his lip and shifted from foot to foot. "I heard you. But, er. It's only that ... it's. Pucey said that you--" He shoved a bit of dust across the floor into the crack between two stones and pushed it down with his heel. Cheeks heating, he rushed through his next words "Pucey said that if I refused to do lines, then you'd make me, er. You know. Do lines."

Absolute silence came from McGonagall's desk, and Draco felt the heat of his blush moving down his neck and across his shoulders. He fumbled for the door handle. "Never mind. I'll-I'll-I'll just go, then." He decided Adrian Pucey was going to get the hexing of his life next time they met.

"Mister Malfoy." He heard the crackle of parchment, the rustle of robes. The click-click of her heeled boots crossed the room and he lowered his head as she neared. "Slytherin gossip?" she asked, and he flushed even harder at the amusement in her voice.

"I only thought--"

Her fingers curled under his chin and pulled his head up. The back of his mind screamed at him to jerk away, but Draco met her eyes despite himself. McGonagall pursed her lips as she examined his face. "Do you want to 'do lines', Mister Malfoy?"

He wanted to duck his head, but she held his chin with force. Draco shivered and closed his eyes to avoid the knowing gleam in hers. "Yes," he whispered.

"Ah." McGonagall's voice was quiet. Draco swallowed hard, thinking he could almost hear her smiling. She released his chin. "Very well. If this is what you want. Stand by the desk."

Draco held still as she moved away, stood in place until he heard the creaking door of the cabinet in the corner of the office.

"Now, Mister Malfoy."

He jumped and rushed across the room to McGonagall's desk. Twisting his hands together, he watched her back.

"Hands on the desk."

He spun about and slapped both hands onto the polished surface hard enough to make his palms sting. He stared at his fingernails and the spot of ink on his right thumb. Her heels click-clacked across the floor again and then he could feel her standing directly behind him.

"Are you quite sure about this, Mister Malfoy?"

He shuddered and hunched his shoulders. "Yes." Even he could barely hear the word, and he cleared his throat to try again. "Yes, Professor McGonagall."

"Good lad. I will take it as given that Mister Pucey told you the pertinent details. Assume the position."

Draco shut his eyes. Pucey had been rather gleeful in his descriptions, and Draco knew just what to do. He bent his elbows and slid his arms across the desk to rest on his forearms. He widened his stance for better balance. McGonagall's fingers slid down his spine. Her voice floated over his shoulder in a mix of amusement and disapproval. "This is not correct, Mister Malfoy. Not for lines. How do you expect to serve your detention properly with all this fabric in the way? Fix it this instant."

Draco shivered, his heart pounding. He straightened up and shrugged off his outer robes. He tossed them aside.

"All of it."

Teeth dug into his lower lip, he unfastened his belt. His fingers trembled as he undid his flies. His trousers dropped to his ankles and he bit back a soft noise as the colder air of the office hit his bare flesh.

McGonagall chuckled behind him, and he felt her lifting the tails of his shirt. She clucked her tongue. "My, my. The house-elves who do Slytherin's laundry will have to be spoken with, won't they? They appear to have misplaced your undergarments."

Draco felt his skin heating as that damned blush flowed over him again when McGonagall continued. "Or perhaps you were being a credit to your house, young man. Planning ahead, were you? Excellent. I do appreciate it when students prepare in advance." Her fingernails scratched at the base of his spine, then her palm slid down the curve of his arse. "Much better," she said. "Very nice indeed. Position, Mister Malfoy."

Draco bent over the desk, his head bowed. He tensed his fingers on the polished surface as McGonagall's hand slipped down his thigh. She dragged her fingers up and pushed his shirt to the small of his back. He heard her whisper a Sticking charm and he took a deep breath in anticipation.

The whistle of air was his only warning. Draco clawed at the desk, throwing his head back with a yelp, when the thin rattan cane sliced across his buttocks. He gasped and bowed his spine, thrusting his arse higher. Another whistle, another slice, another gasp.

Draco dropped onto the desk, his forehead grinding on the wood, hands flailing to knock parchments and quill to the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut as the cane struck again and again, as McGonagall swung over and over. He danced under the blows, shifting from foot to foot. He lost count of how many times McGonagall laid the thin stripes across his buttocks, lost track of how many tears dripped onto the desk. He thrust back to meet the cane, gasping each time rattan met flesh.

He closed his eyes and rocked his head on the desk, silently pleading. The cane fell in steady blows and Draco felt the heat moving through him. It spread from his arse up into his chest, down his thighs and around his hips. He sobbed, in pain, in pleasure, as the heat filled his gut and swelled his cock. He shifted, his hand moved, and McGonagall slapped the cane hard across his thighs.

"You were not given permission to move, Mister Malfoy." She laid the cane across the small of his back and Draco whined as the heat and ecstasy lessened. "Are you enjoying this?" she asked, her free hand sliding up his spine to tangle in his hair. "Is this arousing you, young man?"

Draco gulped and hummed in affirmation. McGonagall tugged at his hair. "No. You will speak properly. Tell me."

Draco keened, tipping his head back into her hand, thrusting his hips back in search of the cane. "Please," he muttered. "Please, don't stop."

"Tell me."

"Yes," he said, hissing for breath. "Yes, I'm enjoying this. Yes, it's arousing." Pucey's hushed instructions flared in Draco's memory, and he let out a soft groan. "Hard," he muttered.

"What was that, Mister Malfoy?" McGonagall pulled at his hair, pulled his head back. "Speak up."

He raised his head, his shoulders, pressed his weight into his forearms and levered up from the desk. "It's arousing. It's exciting. I'm enjoying this." Draco sucked in a breath and licked his lips, then looked over his shoulder and met her eyes. "Makes me hard, Professor."

Small wisps of hair had escaped from her bun; her face was flushed and shining. Draco held still as she looked at him. After a full minute, she raised her brows and nodded. "Then show me. Stand up. Turn around." She folded her arms, the rattan cane dangling at her side. "Show your work, Mister Malfoy."

Draco shivered and pushed off the desk. He turned, holding the front of his shirt up against his stomach. His cock swayed as he moved, and he blushed, imagining how ridiculous he must look. There was no possibility for him to look even slightly dignified with his trousers to his ankles and his stiff cock bobbing. He stared at the floor, at the tips of McGonagall's polished shoes.

"Hold your hands out to your sides."

Draco obeyed immediately, and his shirt fell over his groin, hiding his cock. McGonagall clucked her tongue. "That won't do at all. Remove your shirt."

Draco stiffened. He snapped his head up and looked at McGonagall. He could feel how wide his eyes had gone, and he shook his head until his fringe fell across them. "No," he said, his voice strung tight. It took him a tremendous effort not to shove his arms behind his back, shielding them from her view. "No. I can't-- Won't. No."

McGonagall watched him silently for a few moments. Draco thought he noticed a flash of sorrow in her eyes before she closed them, and he tensed, ready to snatch his trousers up so he could run. If she said one word....

McGonagall didn't speak, not on the topic he feared. She only nodded and gestured at his shirt. He lifted it up and held it against his stomach again, looking down at his cock. It had softened with his sudden tension and fright, and he heard McGonagall's disapproving hum. "May I touch my cock, Professor?" He glanced at her through his fringe. "May I have a wank? For you?" he added, remembering one of Pucey's whispered details.

McGonagall pressed her lips together and looked him over. She took some time about it, lingering at his cock, which started to harden again under her gaze. Draco's free hand twitched at his side and he took a deep breath. He waited, blood racing, until she gave him a nod. Before she could change her mind, he wrapped his hand around his length and stroked. He pumped his fist on his cock, thumb rubbing over the head, fingers squeezing along the ridge underneath. His arse burned from the caning, and he tensed the muscles in his buttocks, deliberately pulling heat and pain from the welts. He could feel his orgasm rising, could feel his bollocks drawing up tight, and he panted for breath, his arm moving fast.

McGonagall made a soft noise, and the air whistled. The cane struck hard across the front of Draco's thighs. He cried out, fist tightening around his shaft, and his knees buckled. He dropped to the floor, bruising his knees on the stones, grinding the heels of his shoes into his striped arse. The burst of pain pushed him over the edge and he came. He tipped his head back and groaned as his cock leapt and pulsed in his hand, thick white strings of semen dripping onto his fingers, his thighs. Onto the cold stones of the floor. Onto the vamp of McGonagall's heeled shoe, thrust between his knees.

Draco gulped and gasped, his entire body shaking with efforts to breathe. McGonagall prodded the tip of his limp cock with the toe of her now-stained shoe. She made a quiet tsking sound and touched the cane to his bollocks. "Look what you've done," she said, and Draco shivered at the stern tones. "Just look at the mess you've made, young man."

He looked up, an apology filling his throat, but swallowed it back when he saw the gleam in her eyes and the twitch of her lips. She tapped the cane on his thigh and chuckled. "I hope you haven't any plans for tomorrow evening," she said as she stepped back, her robes held high to keep the hem out of the come drying on her shoe. "If you do, you'll be canceling them."

He heard McGonagall take her place behind her desk. Draco slumped over his knees and exhaled slowly, smiling to himself as she spoke. "Detention, Mister Malfoy."