A Strength to Condone
Author Notes: Please review and tell me how it is. If I get enough reviews I might make another chapter of it! Toddles :)
The prisoner was in a damp, dim cell, manacled and looking like the typical captive often found in old tales with brooding dark castles sheltered by depressing clouds.
The Malfoy heir watched cautiously behind the iron bars the sight of the Dark Lord's No 1 enemy. Why their Lord wouldn't just wipe off Potter's existence was a wonder to Draco. He felt nothing but misery and a dreadful sense of fear at the presence of the Lord. To Draco, it was Potter who caused the Dark Lord to pay frequent visits to their family manor. Absence of Potter in their manor, which was regrettably the only spare manor to house captives would have their Lord less likely to pay attention to his family.
He didn't know why he kept coming down to face the horrors of the dungeons, probably like his father insisted to build up his character. He didn't know how much he had achieved of that for after every visit he just came back looking nauseous and lacking in appetite.
Potter would turn 26 at the end of this month. He could look forward to being paraded to the naked triumph of the Dark and igniting the fears back into the hearts of the faint hearted. And in the Wizarding World, shameful as it was, there were many of a weak heart, Draco included no matter how much he tried not show it. Everyone had seen it, the Dark Lord, oh his father, Snape though the man was his usual stoic self about it, Aunt Bellatrix, even the Crabbes and Goyles had seen it. His inability to kill, or Crucio properly, to extract information from prisoners, to enjoy it? He couldn't even maintain a mask!
Lucius had been displeased and continuously forced him into witnessing gory deaths and even taking part in them (not that that was much of a success). Eventually Narcissa had intervened, pointing out to Lucius that he was going to make a laughing stock out of Draco and thus by association the Malfoy name. That put an abrubt end to his father's endeavors.
His mother was capable that way.
What was he capable of?
Watching prisoners languish away in their cells, see the life sucked out of them and avoiding the temptation to provide some help. So could he be called resilient?
"You're a survivor Draco." his mother had one day told him. When he was young she had praised him to the high heavens but then she knew he would fall for it all. He was older know. Exposed to the world outside. Had all his incompetence, his failings, his weaknesses exposed to the vicious glee of the Deatheaters.
His mother could not fool him anymore. She knew better than to try.
There was a cough that shattered Draco's reverie. He couldn't help noticing the slightly open mouth of Potter's, dry_parched probably. It had been more than a week after all. Potter was entirely living off his magical energy. But even that would soon become exhausted. And then they would force a glass of water and a dainty loaf of bread into his unwilling mouth (for the prisoner had no desire to live like a puppet forever) and then leave him be.
He could of course bring in some food from time to time. But he was resilient wasn't he? A survivor. He couldn't do that. They would notice. Aunt Bella would. She would notice, for she had the eye for that sort. The ability to see the slightest of the slightest change in the prisoner's form. And she was a fearsome woman to most, sadly Draco even Narcissa would be able to save her son then. No, not even his smooth-talking mother.
His hair was even blacker, more longer and fell down his shoulders in tangles. The frayed bit of cloth keeping Potter's modesty wouldn't survive two more birthdays. Could Draco put some kind of self-stitching charm on them? It wasn't like Aunt Bellatrix would care to check those rags.
But what if some loon did check for it? Draco was a survivor wasn't he? He had to be resilient didn't he? Besides its not like Potter would have the mind to care for such petty things like modesty when being placed under dark curses. His mind would be somewhere else. Who cared about a little nudity when your entire body was on fire, inside and outside?
He might repair the glasses surely?
Draco shook his head, feeling silly. Glasses? Not like Potter would want to see the sneering and jubilant faces of his tormentors. Who would?
"Get up Draco, there is very little time." Narcissa's low voice was laced with urgency
"Very little time?" Draco asked, placing a polite hand on his mouth.
Narcissa's face was a mask and Draco realized why. Aunt Bellatrix was in the room.
"What's she doing here?" he asked and could only blame his dazed state for the impudence.
"Potter's finally going to be executed."Bellatrix announced, too high in excitement to care for manners.
Draco did his best to hides his shock and viciously quenched any other emotional feeling as well in the process.
"What..ah forgive me mother." Draco stifled a yawn, "What brought on that change?"
"Stop asking questions boy_" Aunt Bellatrix reprimanded harshly but Narcissa spoke up to clarify.
"Potter was caught escaping. The Dark Lord feels death is the needed cause of action for such nerve."
"How did he manage to escape? He couldn't have_"
"Enough!" Bellatrix interrupted, "The blasted boy dared to escape but seeing as he's such a blind bat he failed. Now he's to be executed so get yourself ready and come down in 5 minutes!"
And then she stormed off.
"Draco, darling, please don't take long. A freshening charm should do it." Narcissa instructed.
Draco only nodded dazed.
Maybe he should have repaired those glasses. But then he was a survivor, was he not? And Potter had wanted to die didn't he? After all he had refused to eat, so it didn't matter did it? Draco was resilient that way.