A/N: I know I know, I have a story on here that is unfinished! **smiles sheepishly** I just lost all motivation for it and creativeness. So, I am very sorry! BUT this story is already mapped and knows where it is going. So in other words please don't hate me! I do live for reviews so if you would be so kind and drop a comment after you read the first chapter I'd appreciate it! This story is rate M for sexual themes and graphic scenes.
Chapter One: Trapped
"To expect the unexpected shows a throughly modern intellect." —Oscar Wilde
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞Looking back, Draco never was one that had gave a lot of thought to his death. Even in his sorry excuse of a sixth year he hadn't given into too many scenarios that involved his untimely demise, he was too busy losing sleep over how to kill Dumbledore and escape the cruciatus curse at the hands of the Dark Lord. It was almost sadistic how much he wished he could feel the effects of the blasted curse at the moment. He figured it would beat the agony he was in currently. As if a cruel reminder, his wrists screamed in pain from being rubbed raw by the heavy metal chains that he wore with shame above his once platinum blonde hair. Oh how the mighty have fallen his voice echoed snidely in his head. He just had to lie about stupid Potter, if only he could go back to simpler times. No, he quickly thought, no matter how much pain he was in, he was glad he did his one small act of good. Voldemort needed to be put down, the deranged snake went much too far, and for some idiotic reason, Draco fell right into step until it was too late to realize the horrible mistake he had made. If he was being honest with himself, he knew he belonged exactly where he was, every time Bellatrix sliced into his skin, he knew it was what he deserved. He was a poor excuse for a wizard in every way that mattered, sure his skill was mastered, but his outlook was bloody terrible. He knew that now, but he was too late to change any of it, because in the deep recesses of his soul he knew he would do almost anything to go back, to not be pushed into his messed up ideals that his father insisted he believe in, to actually try and befriend Potter and to never call Granger a mudblood. Sure, she was still a little know it all, but he always knew she was his equal, low as he was to admit it. He supposed it didn't really matter now. He would die in this musty old dungeon, clinging to the walls like the failure he was. He figured he only had a few days left, depending on if his dear old auntie would keep her distance and decide that she had her fill of fun and just let him die in some semblance of peace. His bones ached and he wasn't even sure if his vocal cords would scratch together enough to make a sound. Draco was no expert in healing magic, but he knew his wounds, if let untreated, would be very very bad news for him. He had accepted death, really, he just wasn't sure which he would dread more, Bellatrix's slow and painful torture, or dying of blood loss and lack of water. He wasn't exactly sure how long he had been locked up, he really had no way to judge time, other than the fact that his body couldn't survive without water for more than a couple of days so he supposed it had only been a few days he was having to endure torture, soon though his body would be shutting down. It was probably morbid that he was actually looking forward to it. He hadn't realized his eyes were actually closed until he heard the creaking of the door, though he refused to muster up the strength to look. His body started to lightly tremble much to his detest, he hated showing fear, especially to his wicked aunt, but he couldn't help it, his body had learned to expect pain.
"Look here Draco dearie, I brought you a friend," Bellatrix cackled in her usual bone chilling way, "and you thought all the hours spent torturing you meant I didn't care."
Draco looked up then, just in time to see a heap of a person being tossed at his feet, their face was covered by endless dark locks of hair, and they looked so very small, he felt his throat tighten in anguish that another person would have to endure what he was going through, a foreign emotion to him, but he couldn't help it, and he bloody well didn't care that it wasn't 'pureblood' etiquette either.
"What!" His aunt kicked the person on the floor with a sickening crunch, striding over to stand in front of him, "not even a thank you?" He barely raised his head to meet her black eyes, he knew he was fading but he could tell something was wrong, well more than usual with Bellatrix anyway. She seemed more unhinged than usual, almost frantic. He knew for his own life he should hold his tongue, but that just wasn't him, even at the end of his miserable existence.
"What's wrong," Draco croaked, trying to find his voice, "Voldy having you on babysitting duty?" He tried to smirk, but knew he failed due to his cracking lips. Before he could prepare himself he felt the searing blade of her cursed dagger slice through his arm. All the air escaped him as he tried to hold back his scream, causing his back to painfully grate against the stone wall.
"Don't you ever talk about the Dark Lord." She hissed, getting her face right in front of his, "Ever!" She screeched, running her bloodied blade down the hallow of his throat. "For that, I should rip your vocal cords out of your useless throat!" This was it he thought, he was surprised that instead of begging for it to be quick, he screwed his eyes shut in anticipation, waiting for the pain to overtake him.
Instead of the agony that he was expecting he heard laughter, he almost missed it, at how quiet it was, he thought he recognized it, but shook his head in denial. It couldn't possibly be her, she had already escaped this hell once, no way in Salazar would she be back.
"She's just upset that her poor Lord was killed by Harry."
There was no mistaking it now, he wasn't completely mental, it really was her. What in the bloody hell was she doing here? Did the girl have no innate sense of self preservation?
"Why you little bitch!" Bellatrix growled, angling her dagger down to strike Granger, before he could think, he heard himself say 'stop!' But his aunt didn't even bother to glance his way.
"That is enough Bella." Thank Merlin he thought, surprising himself. Draco had never in his life had been more happy to see his uncle in law standing in the archway of the cell.
"Stop playing, you are needed upstairs." Without a second glance, and looking utterly bored, Rodolphus turned on his heel and headed back from where he came.
Shit. Draco thought frantically, his aunt wasn't one to follow instructions that interfered with her fun. He hoped whatever was waiting for her upstairs was more important than her undying rage to torture and maim.
"You're a lucky little mudblood." Bellatrix sneered down at Granger, before making her way out of the dungeon, slamming the door more than necessary. Minutes passed before Draco peeled his steely eyes off of the door to his personal prison and focused them on the girl in front him. She seemed to be ignoring him while trying to control her breathing to hide the fact that she was unsettled by Bellatrix's presence. Before he could think of something to say, Granger started to reach into her pocket, farther down than he thought a pocket could actually go, so he was a little taken back when she pulled out a wand, he was about to ask how when suddenly the cell lit up around them and a small otter appeared almost out of thin air, dancing around them. It was the most beautiful thing he had seen in the last few days, making his throat tighten with emotion. He really needed to snap out of it. He blinked rapidly a few times when Granger made direct eye contact with him as she spoke into her borrowed wand.
"I found him."