Bleeding Out
Summary: If Harry accepted Draco's friendship, what would have happened when Voldemort came back? One-shot.
You are on your knees, blindfolded, barebacked and bleeding. You aren't gagged though, no, they want to hear your screams when they torture you, when they inflict their sadistic pain. Your once-shimmering signature Malfoy platinum blond hair is dirty and matted; sweat and blood sticking it to your pasty forehead. You are in the dungeons of your childhood home where no one can hear your blood-curdling screams—especially not your parents, who you definitely do not want to hear you scream your throat out. They know what's happening to you but they can't act against it, they are helpless to stop this, lest the Dark Lord does the same thing to them. And you don't want that.
It hurts. It's like being run down by twenty cars consecutively, like someone split gasoline all over your back and set it alight. It burns and reality makes it burn faster, but your resolve is no closer to faltering than it was two months ago. Eyes closed, because it somehow hurts less when you detach yourself from your broken body, you once again take this brief interval of reprieve to think and reaffirm yourself on why you are doing this, why you are accepting this horrid pain that is nothing like you've ever felt.
You think about Harry's beautiful emerald green eyes.
I'm bleeding out, so if the last thing that I do, is bring you down, I'll bleed it out for you.
Voldemort himself is here to interrogate you and you suppose you should be honored, grateful and begging at his feet. Instead, you spit at it (or what you think is its feet, since you are still blindfolded, drowsy, and can't tell left from right).
You feel a disgusting, icy hand yank you upwards by your hair. The blindfold is torn off your face and you slowly open your eyes to stare into sickening slits of red.
"Don't be like that young Malfoy. All you have to do is tell us where Potter is and grovel at my feet. Then you can be free of your chains," he says, his chilly breath blowing onto your face.
"Never!" You yell as loud as your weak lungs and sore throat would allow you to, spraying a mix of spittle and blood into his snaky face.
He narrows his eyes and beckons for your Aunt Bellatrix and you already know what's going to happen. It has become a regular routine, albeit a very painful one.
You close your eyes as she casts a "Crucio!"
So I bare my skin and I count my sins and I close my eyes and I take it in
You recall life as it was before you entered this nightmarish hell that once was your home, your sanctuary. You remember the elation you felt when Harry first accepted your hand back when you were young and innocent.
It wasn't always good times; you were furious when Harry ended up in Gryffindor, when he went there and befriended the Weasel and Mudblood. In your mind, he had chosen them over you. You remember how you ordered the entire Slytherin house to bully the pair, how the different colours of hexes flew that first year. You smirk at the memory, only to wince at the horrid pain that shot up your desecrated back. You were petty back then and you wanted revenge on them for stealing away your Harry.
Of course you had to stop when Harry confronted you about it. You had to begrudgingly accept that he wasn't solely yours and apologise reluctantly to Weasley and Granger. Surprisingly, they forgave you. You became acquaintances then, for the sake of Harry.
You were absolutely livid when a playful teasing with Longbottom's Remembrall resulted in Harry being made into Gryffindor's seeker. He became the youngest Seeker in a century and you were jealous, so awfully jealous that you avoided him for weeks. Eventually though, your heart ached for his presence and you told him that you forgave him for upstaging you. His laughter and smile at your weak attempt at an apology is forever imprinted in your mind.
Second year you realised that Father was planning something against the Weaslette, the only girl Weasley who was starting Hogwarts. You saw him place a book, possibly a Dark one, into her cauldron but didn't say a word about it. You disliked how the Weaslette looked at your Harry and thus, why would you care if she got involved in one of your father's dastardly schemes?
On hindsight, you, Harry and Weasley wouldn't have needed to ventured into the dank Chamber of Secrets if you'd just mentioned that little tidbit of information to your best friend.
I'm bleeding out, I'm bleeding out for you (for you)
You tried to get Buckbeak exterminated in Third year. But who could blame you for it? That Hippogriff was a menace. Obviously, you and Harry didn't see eye to eye in this matter for he ignored you for weeks until you agreed to free it with him.
Time-travel is wacky business but using your Time-turner and Granger's (you both chose too many lessons and had too little time to go for them); you manage to save Buckbeak and catch a rat by the name of Peter Pettigrew. Harry's godfather, the infamous Sirius Black, was released of all charges and it was all thanks to you. One good deed to make up for previous misdeeds. You'll pay for the rest later in life—in a dungeon, with your lips sealed, keeping all the secrets of the Order.
In Fourth year you stood by Harry when the Weasel decided to abandon him when he most needed help. You, with some discreet help from Granger who had the difficult task of trying to appease a jealous and angry Weasel (Harry still wanted him as a friend, something that still confuses you to this day), helped him through all the tasks. You tried to raise team morale by creating some magical 'Down with Diggory' badges that changed into 'Harry is Hogwarts Hero' with a tap of a wand but Harry demanded you rid of them the very next day. Apparently, he didn't like your idea. You'd scowled but complied. No use starting an argument over such a stupid thing—you didn't want to be another Weasel.
You shudder as you realise that you've gotten to the point in your life when Voldemort came in and ruined everything.
When the day has come, but I've lost my way around, and the seasons stop, and hide beneath the ground
No one in the Ministry would believe Harry when he said that Voldemort was back, those fools, and they sent Dolores Umbridge to keep him in check.
Fifth year you joined the Inquisition Squad to act as a spy within Umbridge's ranks. You acted like a prick and pretended to abuse your power but you always ended up back in the Room of the Requirement with the rest of the Dumbledore's Army, warning Harry when Umbridge got suspicious of their club. It was also the year you joined the Order of the Phoenix, when you realised that was the only other way to protect your Harry from danger. You were to become a Death-Eater the next year and act as a spy for the Light side, like Severus. It was a way to keep both Harry and your parents safe from Voldemort's wrath; only you would get hurt in this scenario. You were scared, of course you were, but it was for the best.
Given the task of killing Dumbledore in your Sixth year, you were so frantic and worried about this task that you lost all semblance of reality, of time. Only Harry and Dumbledore were told of your order and the Headmaster came up with a plan. But, unfortunately, you didn't have time to execute it before you were found out and exposed as a spy.
Which is why you're here on the cold hard floor of Malfoy Manor's dungeons.
When the sky turns grey, and everything is screaming, I will reach inside, just to find my heart is beating
You can feel the blood trickling down your face and the slab of meat that was once your back. Tears mix with the blood to form a salty coppery mess that falls irregularly onto the filthy floor. You don't know how many more Cruciatus curses you can take, how many more whipping sessions before your body gives up.
To take your mind of the throbbing ache of your body, you wonder what it is like outside this prison. You haven't seen the sunlight in ages. You imagine it's evening now, that the sky is grey like your eyes and dark like your soul.
Emptiness and searing pain, sharp like a carving knife, is all you can feel and it threatens to crush you underfoot. The deadly silence around you when you are not being kicked around to the amusement of the other Death-Eaters seems to scream and the numbness of death will be welcomed with open arms at this point in time. You heart falters and you swear it stops for a second. You are sure this is the end. But then his face appears in your mind and the thumping of your heart becomes regular again. You won't be dying today.
Oh you tell me to hold on, oh you tell me to hold on, but innocence is gone, and what was right is wrong
Harry's voice echoes over and over in your mind whenever you feel like just giving up, giving you encouragement and blocking out the sound of leather lashing on flesh. He says, "Hold on Draco, just hold on." And you listen.
You wish you weren't here, you wish that none of this happened, that you and Harry was still in school, where you were still young, innocent and ignorant schoolboys. Alas, it cannot be. In actual fact, you have lost your innocence long ago, due to the war. This is just an eye-opener to show you that life would just get harder and more torturous as the war progressed. And Harry—your Harry—lost his when he saw his godfather die before his very eyes. He is the one who's supposed to end all this madness. He'll have to kill and instead of being the courageous Gryffindor he excels at playing, he would have to become a sneaky Slytherin if he wanted to kill Voldemort. You know how Harry dislikes Slytherin traits and treasure Gryffindor ones, even though his best friend is a Slytherin. To Harry, it would probably feel like a betrayal to his parents and Black if he started acting and thinking like a Slytherin. But you know he would have to, it's unavoidable. In the midst of a war, House and everything affiliated with it means nothing. Look at you, the supposed epitome of all things Slytherin and Malfoy. You are throwing self-preservation out of the window to protect Harry. You are, at the moment, a Gryffindor from head to toe. Previously, you would be disgusted at the very thought of sharing the slightest sliver of similarity with a Gryffindork but you are doing this for Harry and that speaks volumes of your love for him. It knows no bounds and you will never betray him for anything. When Voldemort will understand this, you have no idea. He doesn't believe in love and thinks you'll break under the pressure of torture eventually. Never.
When the hour is night, and hopelessness is sinking in, and the wolves all cry, to fill the night with hollering
You don't know how long you've been here and as each wretched day passes, you become more and more hopeless. You can tell that the war is getting more serious, with more and more casualties as the war stretched longer, as now, you can actually hear sounds at night. You are hardly used as Death-Eater entertainment anymore as prisoners are brought in everyday, fresh meat brought in for them to play with. Right in front of you. And you cannot bear to look at it, but at the same time, you can't tear your eyes away from the gruesome acts. The werewolves have joined Voldemort's side, you are sure, as wolf cries could be heard, breaking the usual loud silence. You have heard it twice now. Does that mean two more months have passed? The world continues to revolve as you are continually stuck in hell; no way to know how much time has passed.
The only indicator is when they bring you sustenance (you refuse to call it food; it's to foul and undeserving of that title) once a day, a meagre amount of mouldy bread and rotten cheese with a cup of spat-in water served at night, not enough to ease your very frequent and familiar hunger pangs.
You are losing hope quickly, and you question the idea of ever getting out of this hellhole.
When your eyes are red, and emptiness is all you know, with the darkness fed, I will be your scarecrow
Suddenly, you can hear shouts and screams as well as people barking out spells in quick succession. The blindfold is off and you stare at the beautiful sight of one broken Harry Potter. He's lost lots of weight since the last time you've seen him and he's probably as skeletal as you are. His hands are clammy with sweat as they caress your face gently and his eyes are bloodshot and red from crying.
"Oh Draco, what have they done to you? I'm so sorry…" His voice breaks at the end and he bursts out into a fit of sobs. As he cries, he frees you from your chains and gathers you into his arms. You embrace him back, not caring that there is battle going on all around you. You still want to protect him, from the emptiness and pain he is feeling from seeing your tortured form, and it doesn't matter that everything hurts. You can feel his pain and it hurts even more.
"I-I'm okay Harry. Not your fault," you manage to stammer out as your dry throat protests. This is the first time you have spoken in weeks, aside from the cries of agony, and it sounds so hoarse and broken. It sounds so different from your usual arrogant drawl that you wince at it.
"You're fine now Draco, you're fine now. We'll get you patched up and you'll be okay." Harry continues this mantra as he casts all the healing spells he knows on you. You feel the wounds on your back and cut on your face slowly close up and disappear, it's hard to believe that there was anything there in the first place. Only some scars left by too-deep cuts are visible and you sigh in relief. At least you wouldn't have too many reminders of your suffering here.
You still hurt but you hardly feel it as he plants a sweet, tentative kiss onto your chapped lips.
"You're okay now. Close your eyes and rest." He commands softly and you comply, allowing your eyes to close, as someone picks you up slowly, lifting you up from the blood stained floor. With your dried blood caking your body and the fresh one sticking you to the ground, you must look quite the sight. When your skin touches smooth, satin sheets, you slip into slumber. You have survived this ordeal and it will scar you forever but you know that you would bleed out for Harry any day.
Cause I'm bleeding out, so if the last thing that I do, is bring you down, I'll bleed it out for you
I'm bleeding out for you (for you)
A/N: The beautiful song lyrics in bold italics are from the Imagine Dragons, Bleeding Out. This fic is much better if you hear the song as you read it. I hoped you enjoyed it.
Reviews are very much appreciated :)