Draco's Punishment

Draco looked down at the witch on the floor, trying to keep his emotions from his eyes, and his memories from his mind, lest his master use Legilimency against him. He was bound to be watching him right now, gauging his reaction to this torture. That was his motive for bringing her, the bound witch on the floor, here, after all. It was his punishment.

Once, she wasn't his punishment. Once, she was his everything. He gazed at her, taking in every feature, every detail. Those hands that he used to hold, used to bring to his lips in a gentlemanly kiss, now tied behind her back, taking away her balance, making it hard for her to sit up straight. Those cheeks he used to caress, used to kiss sweetly (although you can hardly imagine Draco Malfoy being sweet), now bruised and bright red from being manhandled. Those lips he used to kiss, sweetly, flirtatiously, hungrily, passionately, and who knows how many other ways, now split and bleeding. Those eyes that he used to watch the merriment dance in when she laughed, used to gaze into lovingly after hours of lovemaking, now filled with exhaustion and fear.

It was torture, seeing her here, and knowing it was his fault that she was kidnapped from her safe haven at the Order's Headquarters. If he hadn't been so careless, if he hadn't let down his guard, if he had been a little more discreet with his secret, she might not be here. If he hadn't let his aunt find out his secret, she could still be safe with Order. It was his fault.

Which is why the Dark Lord had made the demand to bring her here. Because of what he thinks is Draco's misjudgment. And more than that, his betrayal. He brought her here to punish Draco. She was being tortured to punish Draco. She was being ravenously feasted on by those Death Eater's hungry eyes to punish Draco. She was suffering to punish Draco. Because Voldemort knew, that if he really loved her, he would be dying inside to see her like this. And he was right.

"Draco," his voice purred. No, hissed. Because that's what a snake does, and he is a snake. Draco quickly pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind, careful to set it behind a wall of other thoughts. "Surely you know who this is. You've spent six years with her."

"Hermione Granger," Draco said, trying to inject his voice with as much disgust and loathing as possible. Not all the Death Eaters know of his secret. Only his family and the remnants of the man who was supposed to be his revered master.

"And surely you know why she is here?"

"To fill us in on the information and intelligence she obviously has on Potter and his doings, my Lord?"

The man-albeit he was not a man anymore-chuckled.

"You know that is not the reason she is here, Draco," he said. Yes, he knew that was not the reason. "You know the real reason."

"I do not, my Lord."

He chuckled again.

"Well then, I shall tell you, and all my other loyal followers," he said, putting particular emphasis on 'loyal', and Draco knew why. "This, Draco, is your punishment," he announced. Then he turned to the other Death Eaters. "His punishment, my friends, for allowing this filthy Mudblood to charm him into attraction for her, and even affection." Draco tried to stop himself from pulling out his wand at "Mudblood". The man nodded with his eyes wide. "Yes, indeed," he said, like a Muggle mother confirming a little child of something in a fairytale. "You might think that it was the Mudblood's fault, luring him in like a predator does a prey," he continued. "But alas, Draco has proclaimed his love for the filthy thing, said it to her goodness knows how many times, and even slept with her!"

Draco kept his head down, hiding not his shame, but his anger, while the announcement was met with gasps and reproving or disgusted looks thrown in his direction.

"So, then, my friends," the man continued, after the noise had died down, "this is Draco's punishment. These last few days I have allowed you to do whatever you wish to her. And you have complied."

Yes, and Draco had barely been able to contain himself at the sight of the things they did to her. He wanted to curse them all, wring their necks, beat them black and blue, torture them, kill them all for the things they did. It was all he could do to stop himself.

"And now, now that you have tortured her-and in turn, our poor Draco-enough, we have no more need of her. So we shall dispose of her."

Kill her? No. No!

"And who better to do that...", dread was filling him up, "...than Draco."

Draco felt like he had been punched in the gut. He did not see this coming, though he ought to have. He knew there was going to be some final punishment for him, but he did not expect this. To have to kill her himself...this would kill him, too.

"Come, Draco," the voice was as smooth as a snake's scales.

Draco reluctantly walked to the centre of the circle. He tried not to meet her eyes. He didn't want to see the emotions in them. He stopped at the centre. The man he was supposed to respect and admire and learn from, walked up behind him. And right now, he could think of no reasons why he should respect him.

"Do it, Draco," he said, reminding him of the same thing his aunt had said to him a year ago. Back then, his life was at stake, and his headmaster's, and he supposed he could have done it, maybe, if Snape hadn't interfered. But he couldn't do this. Their lives didn't matter as much as hers. He stayed frozen.

"Do it!" the man shouted when he did not move. "You know you deserved this," he hissed. "Come on, you know the spell. Do it, or I will do worse things to her than even now."

Draco decided it was better for her to die than to suffer anymore. She had gone through enough already. He pulled his wand out.

The man jeered with disgustedly victorious laughter.

"See? I told you," he said to his followers. "He loves her! He loves her enough to spare her suffering. Do it then, kill her!"

He dared to look into her eyes now. He immediately wished he hadn't. He wanted to see them one last time, now he can't stop looking. The emotions in her eyes were intense enough to transfer into his. There was pain, and longing, and disbelief, and begging, and a million other emotions in there, so many he couldn't even name. But one of them was acceptance. He saw it in there, in her beautiful chocolate orbs. Acceptance, that she will die, that she will die at his hands, that he will kill her. He saw acceptance, then forgiveness. She would forgive him for this.

The trouble is, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

At least he was going to stop her suffering. Sometimes, death is better than the things you have to go through if you stay alive. That's what Draco is going through right now. He wished he could die, instead of living and having to kill her. Even though he would be doing her a favour. If he didn't kill her, she wouldn't be alive, physically or spiritually, by the end of Voldemort's tortures.

The thought doesn't help him.

"Do it, Draco! Now!"

She gave him the smallest of nods. He tries to say "I'm sorry" through his eyes as best he can. She nodded again, and smiled ruefully. He mouthed 'I love you' as discreetly as possible, and tried to convey it through his eyes. She did it back. He screwed his eyes shut; he didn't want to see it.

"Avada Kedavra."

A/N: So this is to make up for not updating for a week, which is the longest I've ever gone without updating. I think I got this idea reading Divergent, about having to kill someone you love. This is my first Dramione fic. It's so dark and angsty. I got in a sullen mood just writing it.

So, I haven't fully finished writing the next chapter of Dreams yet, because I've been really busy, as always. I hoped you enjoyed this dark and angsty little oneshot that I've written (which might turn into a chapter fic somehow, if I can figure out where to lead it). Chapter 10 of Dreams will be up as soon as I can.

Bye!