Written for the Jury of Your Peers Competition darkfic, the Setting Boot Camp prompt #49 (things will get better) and rated for torture.
You've been warned darlings. Enjoy the story.
There was a moment in time, when I gave up hope. When I stopped believing that the world could change.
It's what they wanted. I'm known to be level-headed, strong, and unbreakable. When we lost the war things changed. The Order splintered down the middle, scattering those of us who could escape to the edges of Britain, and maybe beyond. There's no hope left in this land.
Those of us who didn't escape aren't as lucky.
I'm one of those unlucky people.
Malfoy Manor's been stripped of its power, its wards, and it collectables. During the war some people stole, and others attempted to break down the wars that kept the Order out. It lies in shambles now, taken down just before Harry was. There's nothing left of that place.
Hogwarts is a different story. Voldemort claimed the castle when he became victorious, and Hogwarts gave up the battle. This castle, littered with centuries old magic, no longer produces wondrous things. The paintings are blank slates on the wall, as their occupants have long since evacuated. The Room of Requirement is nothing more than a myth, and the elves slipped away during the night. Everything that I once thought I knew about Hogwarts is gone, destroyed by one sinfully cruel man.
"Granger, up. We have to go."
I shoot him a glare as he dragged me to me feet, keeping a firm grip on my arm as he pulls me from the room. After Voldemort got done torturing me for the first few days, and his beloved Death Eater's had their way with me, he tossed me over to Malfoy. I presume that he thought his new favorite Death Eater would be just as ruthless as everyone else here.
Malfoy won't even touch me unless he's dragging me around places. I'm expected to do cooking during the day, and keep his room spic and span during my time off. At night I cook again, then I'm supposed to help him bathe. He never has me do that part though, and I can't say I'm angry about it.
I could be like every other female here. I could still be suffering. But Malfoy's very protective with me, and he won't share me like so many others willingly would. I don't know what his fascination is with keeping me to himself, but again, I'm not complaining. Since I've become his bloody property, others have left me be. I wouldn't go to lengths to say that they are by any means scared of him, but they are cautious of what they do in his presence. I'm never out of his room unless he's nearby, or if I'm in the kitchens. He keeps a startlingly close eye on me.
It's almost creepy.
The journey to the meeting room is usual; dull. They've turned Dumbledore's office into Voldemort's. I almost puke each time upon entering. It severely bothers me. Dumbledore was a man of truth, dedication and good. Voldemort is the complete opposite of him. He doesn't deserve to be in this room, let alone in that chair.
They brought me up here for the same ritual as always. Voldemort's waiting for me to hop over the edge into insanity, but it won't work. They try to take away my sanity, but they won't steal it like they did my hope. I refuse.
Malfoy always holds my arms when it happens. I don't know if it's to keep me in place or for his own comfort, but either way I usually forget he's even there half the time. I always try to detach myself from the situation, to forget where I am and just ignore the person that I can't help, but it never works. Sometimes I cry if it goes on long enough. Then Voldemort lashes out at me and Malfoy can't help. But I don't care.
He won't break me. After everything, I'm not going to get weak now. But that doesn't mean I won't cry either. The people around me won't shed a tear because they are soulless, horrific people. I cry because I'm still a human being.
I still have compassion.
I still feel something.
I still pity the people they drag in here to die. And all I can do is watch. They broke my wand ages ago.
It's starts again, the torment. Whenever they find someone to punish, either an escapee or a slave who doesn't listen, they have their fun and torture the poor soul to death. I haven't crossed that line yet, but maybe someday I will. Then my owner will be the last hand to torture me, the final person to truly kill me- Malfoy.
I'm not entirely sure he could kill me. He never participates in the torture, he just stands beside me. And I have a good feeling that he isn't being withheld from participation because of my presence, but instead he's using me as an excuse.
Malfoy might be Voldemort's favorite, but I still think he's a coward. A coward who just so happens to take pity on me. Maybe I'm lucky.
Or maybe I'm not. The victim cries out and I look above the withering body. I'm in class again, back when Hogwarts was a good place. Harry and Ron are beside me-
A pained scream temporarily distracts me. I close my eyes and try to refocus, but it's no use. Once something breaks my concentration I can't do anything else; I can only stand by and watch someone die. It's humanly wrong.
I glance back at Malfoy, my eyes silently telling him to stop this. He has a higher ranking than the others- he should do something! But Voldemort's there in the room, watching every interaction with a trained eye. Malfoy won't even meet my gaze for more than the briefest of moments. He knows what I want him to do, and it's something he's too afraid of. He would never rebel against the Dark Lord, not after Voldemort killed Harry.
He's too much of a coward for that.
When I stare at him too long he gives my arms a rough shake, reminding me that I'm supposed to be watching. Turning back I steel my emotions, trying my hardest to detach myself from the scene, but I just.
I could push Malfoy off and get to the poor woman before me, but that won't help. Then I'll become another object for the Death Eaters to torture, and we would both probably die. So I stand, rooted in my spot while a few stray tears dance down my face.
I can't help anyone anymore.
By the time it's over, I know that I look like a fool. Today got to me more than normal, maybe because I caught sight of Malfoy's careless expression to the entire ordeal. I don't know if he's just so adjusted to this type of treatment that it no longer bothers him, or if he's just so good at masking his emotions that I can't see what he's thinking. Either way, I feel colder today than normal. They tortured that girl longer than they normally would.
Back in his room, I sit on the floor and hug my knees. I can't even stand to look at the blond. He's a monster, just like the rest of them. Only he's worse than everyone else.
The other Death Eaters are cut throat and straightforward. Malfoy keeps his dark thoughts under wraps, and he sits back and lets others do the dirty work. He's lazy and cowardly, but he's also dangerous in this way. He keeps his expressions masked, and one can never truly tell what a masked-man is thinking.
Maybe that's why he's Voldemort's favorite.
Something soft hits me, and I open my eyes to see a blankets been thrown my direction. Malfoy took it off the sofa on his way to his bed. I usually sleep on the soft piece of furniture, but tonight I don't think I'll been be getting up. I'm too drained to care about where I am.
"Things will get better Granger," he mutters, taking off his shirt. The age-old necklace he always wears dangles on his chest, and he glances back over at me. "Things always get better."
I shake my head, pressing hard against the wall to ensure I don't burst into tears. Lies- he's feeding me too many lies.
Things are never going to get better. Everything's just gotten worse since the day Harry died.
A/n: Okay, so, it's a dark story. That's what it's based off of basically. This might be continued, but I haven't decided yet. We'll see :) Let me know your thoughts in a review!