His control is absolutely shattered, if he even had any to begin with. It's almost hard to play at being disappointed when this was what he wanted, when he pushed for him to lose so that he could take even more than this from him and give him the tools to rebuild.

"You're going to alert half the school to what's going on here," Snape scolded, voice cutting through the new silence. His hand is poised in the air, but he's just watching, unable to quite believe that as vocal as he is about the pain, that he's pressing back for more.

"Perhaps you require assistance in controlling yourself," he said, raising his other hand from where it was braced on the desk, and as he raises it up he curls it slowly as if into a fist, but stops as though his fingers are wrapped around something unseen. Draco will feel his breath catch in his throat, as if Snape's hand were tight around his neck, cutting off the air.

That next blow comes just as hard, just as sudden and without warning, but it also comes without sound, without cries and sobs.

"One," Snape breathes into the silence, counting.