Major Mythology references to the story of the Pleiades and Orion. Title taken from the poem "Joy in Death" by Emily Dickinson. Unbeta'd.
Warnings: Torture, murder, child deaths, disturbing rituals and concepts, kidnapping, and drug addiction (as a form of torture).
Graphic violence!
Draco moved as quickly through the small crowd as he could, his breaths rising in puffs. It was difficult to run when people insisted on pushing and tripping him, their anger at him not lessened in the year since the War ended. His heart was pounding as he broke through the crowd into a mostly-empty town square.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw them. So close and transfixing - Draco could smell them, how could no one else? He turned again, prepared to run, when he ran headlong into one of them. His heart froze in his chest and he looked straight into the face of Anna. Draco whimpered and knew instinctively that he was surrounded by the others.
There were nine of them, each more powerful than the rest, but that meant that Anna was downright horrifying compared to the others. She was the one who led the others, the one who had the smarts and the brawn about her. She used to be Draco's friend, used to stick her neck out to save him. And there she was, her icy hands winding around Draco's wrists in a grip so strong that his fingers started to turn purple.
A vicious smirk spread across Anna's pale face. Or rather, what was left of her face: her perfectly shaped lips. Someone else's skin had been laid over her eyes and nose, stitched over her once pleasant features and preserved with a stasis charm. Draco had been there to witness it. She'd screamed in agony when it happened, but she didn't seem to mind it as she tugged Draco closer to her body.
"My, my, we have a Malfoy," she said slowly, relishing the moment. Draco flinched and the eight others chuckled, a faint echo of the inner-circle of Voldemort's Death Eaters Draco had once been a part of. Anna reminded him of Bellatrix and with that, all of her hexes and insane laughter. Draco closed his eyes and tilted his head away from her.
"Ever the coward," she whispered, her lips pressed against the shell of Draco's ear. The blond felt like the cobble under his feet was moving, pulling away from him. Down he went, the world spinning around him. He felt sick to his stomach.
"Not that I'm complaining," he distantly heard Anna say before he heard no more, consciousness slipping away. With or without his consent, Draco Malfoy was Anna's from that point forward.