Draco hated listening to the noises of the tortured. Usually, he'd take himself to the other side of the manor but he couldn't. He knew if he did that now his aunt would have someone fetch him. He was quite sure she enjoyed this, enjoyed making her nephew uncomfortable. This time it was beyond uncomfortable and he was almost definite that she knew it.
He looked at the girl sprawled across the floor, being held down by his aunt. His eyes followed the silver pocket knife as it carved letters into the girl's skin. He was thankful his aunt's hair hid most of it. The sound of the girls screams was bad enough –he didn't need to see everything as well. Her face painted itself into his mind. It would be scrunched up in pain. That would be something he'd never seen on her face.
His mother's eyes were on him as he tried to hold back tears. She was too. She looked at him with sympathy. He'd confided his secret into her and through her keeping it; his aunt was making this difficult for him. If Draco had allowed his mother to say something this would stop. His aunt would find someone else to torture. It is a rule, do not torture family and that's what this girl would be considered. Although, his mother didn't like to believe the worst of her sister –they both knew the reality was that Draco would be branded as a blood traitor and anyone who wanted to accept his feelings would be too.
As his aunt finished the last letter, her friends burst into the room. Potter and Weasley were ready to fight. They had one wand between them: Pettigrew's no doubt. Aunt Bella shouted for him to grab the wands, by that she meant the one's they'd taken. He did so. Potter ran to him though, they were wrestling; a very muggle thing to do. Potter won.
He watched as Potter scurried back to his friends, Weasley had helped the girl up. They had an house elf with them –ironically the family's old one: Dobby. His aunt yelled at the elf who was Potter, Weasley, the girl and the goblin were holding on to. They were going to apparate.
Then aunt Bella threw the knife.
I wasn't that far away, all I had to do was take a few steps, reach out my arm and stretch a little. I grabbed hold to one of them. I went with them.
My mother would understand, she would make it seem like I was trying to help. She'd know the truth. I wanted to check she was alright. This was Granger after all.