Prologue: The Curse
Summary: In a world ruled by Lord Voldemort, Draco and Hermione find that their differences are what make them similar and that their flaws are what make them whole. Dramione AU with a BATB twist.
Bittersweet and Strange
Dark. Everything was dark.
There was pain and blood and tears, as well as shouting and cursing, in addition to the dark, but Draco Malfoy found that if he focused on the dark, the pain and blood and tears didn't seem quite as bad.
Another sharp kick, this time to his shoulder. Then another, and another, and soon he found the comforting darkness slipping away as the relentless fury pounded him. Someone took a fistful of his hair and jerked his head up, and Draco peeled his eyes open to see what misfortune he was about to undergo. It was a mistake. No sooner had he opened his eyes when he saw the wand of Alecto Carrow heading straight for his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut again, steeling himself for whatever unbearable torture was to come next.
He had already heard the word Crucio enough times to deafen him, and he had felt its effects to the extent that he could no longer scream, his voice effectively gone. He couldn't even stand up on his own; Thorfinn Rowle had been nice enough to lash him to a tree so that he wouldn't fall again.
The knife-sharp end of Alecto's wand sliced into his forehead, and Draco briefly wondered if he would look ridiculous silently screaming. Alecto twisted her wand to the left, carving a long, straight line across his forehead. She then made short, vertical slices across the long line, giving the illusion of stitches that had been violently ripped out. Draco couldn't move, couldn't scream, couldn't even open his eyes. So this was what Charity Burbage had endured, he thought.
Voldemort had won. Draco had spent years thinking that was a sentence he would have celebrated hearing, but now that the grim reality of a world run by the Dark Lord had become truth, Draco despised the sound of Voldemort's name. With Harry Potter dead, Voldemort had gone on a rampage, publicly murdering every blood traitor and Muggleborn he could find. Most, if not all, of the Weasleys were dead, and Molly's body had been left in the streets for weeks, as an example of what happened to anyone who killed Voldemort's favorite Death Eater. McGonagall was publicly executed, along with several other teachers, students, and parents who had aided Harry Potter. Draco had heard a rumor that one of the Weasley twins had survived, along with one or two of the third generation Weasleys. If those rumors were to be believed, then the survivors were hiding with everyone else who had escaped Voldemort's wrath. There weren't many.
However, it was hard for Draco to pity the Order's losses when he himself was suffering as the Death Eaters' punching bag at the moment.
The torture lasted for hours. By the end of the ordeal, Draco had no doubt that even his own mother would not recognize him were she to see him. Someone cut his ropes and let him fall to the ground like a sack, then hoisted him over their shoulder and carried him several yards before throwing him to the ground again. Draco didn't know what was about to happen, but he hoped Voldemort would just Avada Kedavra him and be done with it.
It wasn't to be so. Voldemort emerged from the group of Death Eaters, head held high and tapping his wand against his free hand casually. Draco managed to pull his head up and give Voldemort a defiant glare before his head lolled down again.
Voldemort stood directly in front of Draco and sneered. "You pitiful excuse for a human being." His voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Draco. "You dared to defy my reign, and now you have paid the price."
Draco wished he had the strength to stand up and punch Voldemort right in his nonexistent nose.
"You will not die, young Malfoy," Voldemort continued, lowering his wand to touch the top of Draco's bloodied hair. "In death, you become a martyr. No, you shall live in shame. There will be no friend who will stand by you. You will find no comfort, no ease to your suffering. You will live the rest of your days as a scarred, disgraced parasite, trapped in your own home."
Voldemort turned to face the Death Eaters, who stood around him, cackling and twitching like so many mantises. "Listen well, all of you!" Voldemort shouted, filling the night air with his presence. He raised his hands to the sky. "I call upon the forces of the air, the sea, and the earth to make this house a living graveyard to the aspirations of those who dare challenge my leadership! Smother this castle in darkness, never again to see daylight on its rooftops. Let it be wrapped in gloominess and silence as long as it stands. Let the smell of death envelope this property with its foul stench, driving away every last hope of renewal. Let the thorns and thistles of the earth rise up to crush their roses; let them twine around every tower, bar every door and window and trap their traitorous prisoner inside. Let all who see this house be reminded that the dark Lord Voldemort is the ruler of the land, and that he will exact vengeance on those who seek to destroy him. Let all see this useless scum, this wretched excuse of a man, this Death Eater who could not stand on his own decisions. Let all see this scarred outcast who shall live the rest of his days cursing his own betrayal. Let all see Draco Malfoy, the boy who shall live in death!"
The Death Eaters cheered, raising their wands and sending sparks up toward the black sky. Voldemort laughed hollowly as he turned back to Draco, his eyes narrowing as he knelt beside him and lifted Draco's head. Draco tried to gather the strength to spit in Voldemort's face, but he had none left. Voldemort gave him a wicked smile, then shouted, "Crucio!" as he stood.
One by one, the Death Eaters Apparated away, laughing and jeering as they went. Draco didn't even watch them go. He simply curled into himself on his front steps, pretending that he wasn't cut and bruised and bleeding like a river. He closed his eyes and let the warm, sweet darkness take him away again.
A figure in a hooded black cloak crept along silently through the shadows, casting a glance behind them to make sure they weren't being followed. Pressing against the great stone wall, the figure inched along, turning their head around the corner of the house to check the yard ahead.
Narcissa gasped sharply and threw her hood back as soon as she realized the Death Eaters were finally gone. She had been waiting for hours, listening and sobbing silently as Voldemort and the rest of them tortured her son to unconsciousness. Now, she flew across the yard, tears streaming down her cheeks as she reached Draco, lying on the front steps and wearing blood like a coat.
She gently turned him to face her, feeling his wrist for a pulse. She had heard Voldemort say he wouldn't kill Draco, but she still breathed a sigh of relief upon feeling a pulse, albeit a weak one.
Narcissa sighed as she looked up at Draco's home. He had moved out of the Manor several years ago and had been living in a somewhat smaller but still lavish house. Now, covering his tall, elegant wooden doors were vines as thick as tree trunks, adorned by enormous, razor-sharp thorns. Those same vines wrapped around the tower on the right side of the house and crossed his windows in a tangled mess.
She sighed again. The damage to the house was not nearly as great as the damage done to Draco. Narcissa quickly pulled out her wand and began healing his wounds. The whole process took her nearly twenty minutes, but when she was satisfied that he wouldn't bleed to death, she stood and faced the house. It was to be Draco's prison for the rest of his life, unless Narcissa had anything to say about it. She was suddenly glad that Lucius was not alive to stop her, for he would have let his own son die before letting himself be disgraced.
She calmly raised her wand and closed her eyes, whispering an incantation that she had used once before. It was a reversing charm, allowing the user to alter whatever curse had been placed, provided it was done within an hour of the first curse. Narcissa had been worried that the Death Eaters would not leave within an hour, but they had. And now she was thwarting their plan. Draco would be trapped in his home, yes; but the curse could now be broken.
If someone who fell in love with Draco could declare their love for him, the curse would be broken.
Had she been able to, Narcissa would have freed Draco from his fate and left for another country with him immediately. However, her magic was not as strong as Voldemort's, and she could only pray that her altering spell would be potent. It was Draco's only chance.
When the charm was in place, Narcissa turned to pluck a single rose from the ground. It had been overtaken by Voldemort's thorns, but Narcissa was confident that she could enchant it to be whole again.
With that, Narcissa levitated Draco back into the house to care for him. She decided not to tell him about the altering spell; he might give up hope if he knew he had get someone to fall in love with him to be free, and Narcissa wanted to keep his hope alive for as long as possible. And even if no one fell in love with him and broke the curse, she would stand by him until her last day, curse or no curse.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading the first installment in my newest story, "Bittersweet and Strange!" I really enjoy doing drabbles and lighthearted stuff, so a darker AU like this is new for me. Tell me what you think in the comments! Any input is greatly appreciated! Love you all!
Chapter Question: What do you think Draco did to get him out of the good graces of Voldemort and the Death Eaters? Let me know what your opinion is!