Still working on the title. It's a rough start, but here we go. If there are any questions or errors, please let me know.
The silence that exploded between the blasts was the worst. The anxiety of waiting for that next CRACK, to hear it followed by a scream or a crash, was where all of my fear was born. Even after the silence dragged out for long enough to signal safety, I couldn't let myself go. The fetal position is a funny thing. If I'm supposed to feel so safe, why does my back ache after so long, but I still can't lift my head from my own chest to inspect the damage?
"Draco, open your eyes." That voice. I'll always listen to You. "Wake up. You're dreaming." Can't you tell I'm trying? "Come now Draco. Wake up." I obey and lift my head from its safe haven.
Instead of seeing the debris and ruins as expected, I find myself lying safe in between familiar silk sheets. As my sense of gravity shifted due to my waking, the mattress too shifted as my bedmate sat up. A cold hand reached up to my hair as if to clear it from my eyes.
Usually a sign of comfort, right?
WRONG.
Nothing is that simple with the Dark Lord. I don't exactly like calling him a lord though. If I can get away with calling him by his name, I will. Few can. Just because I obey him does not mean I respect him.
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" I don't try to sit up as well, for he's already propped himself up on his elbow so that his eyes have a perfect vintage point on mine. My question will now be ignored.
"What were you dreaming of?" He asks it as a question, but one you aren't given a choice whether or not to answer.
I've always been a coward.
No matter whom you ask, they'll tell you. I'll deny it even after my death, but between only you and I, I am. So I answer.
"The same as always. When I was younger and you murdered my family," I say, almost accusatory. My body is still trembling.
"Still hiding in the cabinet?" I can only nod in response. It's pathetic how that slight movement causes the tears to tip over the edge of my eyes like a glass just a drop too full. "And I'm sure you still refuse to watch?" I don't answer this time, so he draped his arm over my chest and uses one of his boney fingers to tip my face towards his.
"Yes." It barely comes out as a cough, but he nods.
"But you knew you were safe from the beginning, didn't you? I could never have brought you harm. You're much to valuable of a piece for that." His hand moved from my chin to wipe away a tear. "You were born, bred, specifically to serve me. The rest, they were worthless stepping stones, but not you. No, you are too valuable to leave unattended for even a moment."
"You leave me during the day," I point out, trying to get a hold of myself. Why am I upset that my captor would leave me? You'd think the time spent away from him would be a relief, but if Voldemort isn't there, there is nobody to protect me from everything else. Let's just say my master, to me, is the lesser of every other evil. In our line of work, there is an awful lot of evil.
"There is work to be done," he says.
"But if I could only come with you-"
"I'll not tolerate you under my feet all day. I already let your stay in my chambers with me at night, don't impose." And just like that, my proposal is shut down. I could tell him how Wormtail, my keeper during the day, terrifies and disgusts me, but it would be no use. My master has already rolled over onto his back to ignore me once more.
Once I'm sure he's asleep again, I maneuver my way to his side, lying as close to him as I can without waking him up. How does this monster signify safety? I don't have that answer, really any answers. He has them all and I know that as long as I do as he tells me, I'll be okay. I go back to sleep with his body heat radiating towards me.
"Up and at em', Pet!"
I groan and pull the heavy comforter over my head to block out the obnoxious sound of Wormtail's yowling. "Vold'mort." I mutter and reach a hand out to search for the body that should be in the empty space next to me.
"It's already late in the day, princess. Get up before I drag you to the Dark Lord right now and tell him how uncooperative you're being." It's funny how my keeper threatens me with my savior.
I sigh and sit up, bringing the warm blankets with me. Wormtail is hunched over in his normal posture at the foot of the king sized bed looking as he always does: like a dirty rat. "Put some damn clothes on for Pete's sake!"
"I got pants on you slimy git," I growled with half of my face still buried in the heavy duvet. I reached down to my thigh and sure enough, there were my pants, just where I left them.
"You can think about being more respectful to me while you're locked up today, how's that?" Before I register, he's is pulling my warmth away and has his fake hand wraps around my ankle. I hit the wooden floor with the loudest noise I never want to hear again. "Awake now?"
"No!" I scream and reach for my blanket again.
It took about twenty minutes, but a screaming match later, accompanied by a lousy kick on Wormtail's part and a half-assed slap on mine, I was finally somewhat awake. "Now put a shirt on. I have things to do!"
I followed my keeper downstairs, still occasionally stumbling or running into his back just to piss him off. "Where's Voldemort?"
"The Dark Lord," Wormtail growls in warning, "is taking care of business. Very political stuff, too complicated for pets to understand."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll ask Aunt Bellatrix. I didn't mean to insult you, Rat." Wormtail responded by slamming my hand in the cabinet door. Hard. I halfheartedly complained that he might've broken my fingers while he dug around for my mother's enchanted gauze.
It's actually labeled 'child-proof wrap.' The spell is there so that if you put it on a person, they can't take it off. It's so that little wizard babies don't chew it off I suppose.
I was silent as he rewrapped my wrists, covering the mutilated dark mark on my arm.
I think I should elaborate.
I've tried to kill myself five times now. Although, if anybody ever asked, I'd say four. I'd heard if you drank too much water, your stomach will explode and you drown from the inside. I don't know how they decided that because when I tried it I just ended up puking up some water and pissing a rain forest.
Seriously. I'm not kidding. Like four days straight, just peeing.
So yeah, if anyone ever did ask, which nobody has, I'd just say four and spare myself that embarrassing explanation.
The other four times, the times that count, were your usual suicide stories. I mean I was just going by what I've read or heard about. There was the time I tried to drown myself in the bathtub, but someone barged in and pulled me out. I don't even remember who it was. If I did, breakfast the next morning might've been awkward. After that was hanging myself in the closet, jumping from the second story roof (worst idea ever), and most recently, slitting my wrists with a knife I stole from the kitchen.
"Hurry up now, I'm a busy man," Wormtail mutters as he releases my hand. "You can't stay with me today, I have to go out."
I wasn't allowed a bedroom of my own, but I'm fairly sure I used to have a nursery here when I was a baby. Now I was only allowed to roam unsupervised in my master's chambers or in the dungeons.
"Everyone's getting ready for a raid and we won't be back until late."
It's disgusting that he thinks I care.
"Here's breakfast." He throws a dirty looking paper bag at my feet and locks the dungeon gate.
I decide to try taking a slower approach to death and spend most of my morning wondering how many weeks it takes to die of starvation.
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