Pain. Excruciating, agonizing pain. Draco's body clenched, his face screwed up in a rictus of agony as his world was reduced to the waves of white-hot misery that rolled through him.
Clenching his teeth around the crude gag which had been stuffed into his mouth, Draco struggled vainly against the restraints securing him to the rough wooden surface of the table. Draco could no longer feel the long splinters that buried themselves in the soft flesh of his chest, or even the trickle of blood that flowed from his mouth after he had bitten through his tongue.
All he knew was pain, unending pain, feeling as though he were being ripped in half as his body was slammed into the table, over and over again. Without warning, a sharp blow impacted against the back of his head and his world exploded in a flash of white. His skull shattered, Draco fell against the table, mercifully dead.
3 hours earlier…
A pounding bass beat reverberated from the ancient castle, traveling far out into the night. It had been two days since the forces of Light had triumphed against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and the festival atmosphere that had prevailed throughout the Wizarding World carried on undiminished on the grounds of Hogwarts.
The venerable institution would be scarcely recognizable to it's generations of alumni. Inside the castle, the normally immaculate floor was littered with discarded bottles and trash, and at the epicenter of the festivities—the stately Great Hall—muggle disco balls hung suspended air reflecting multicolored flashes of light around the great chamber.
Most of the tables had been removed to make space, and a beyond-capacity crowd of barely dressed witches and wizards danced and writhed to the beat. It was debauchery on a scale never seen in the thousand-year history of the castle, and at the front of the Hall was the cause for the celebration.
Harry Potter—barely identifiable in a toga, mirrored sunglasses, and giant afro wig—danced atop the teacher's table, one hand resting low around a similarly attired Lavender Brown and the other clutching a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey. For the first time he could recall, Harry felt like he didn't have a care in the world; it didn't hurt that the slim girl's toga did nothing to conceal her ample charms, which were currently occupying most of his attention.
Gradually, Harry made out the bang of a gong over fading music and the lights came up. Harry reluctantly separated from his dance partner, giving her a wink and a parting squeeze on the rump as she climbed from the table to join the crowd, who were now looking at the Boy-Who-Prevailed with an air of expectation.
A pair of spotlights trained themselves on Harry and he looked out over the crowd, his friends, before taking a long pull from his bottle and thrusting it triumphantly into the air. "Is everybody having a good time?" He shouted, which was answered by a roar from the assembled mass.
"According to the official timekeeper, we have business to conduct." Harry began, with a nod to an inebriated Neville Longbottom, who was seated comfortably near a large gong under a barely dressed Susan Bones. Neville acknowledged Harry with a cheerful wave.
Harry turned toward the small chamber at the side of the Great Hall, calling out to the pair of aurors positioned at the door. "Bring out the next prisoner!"
The pair disappeared into the room, emerging into the hall a moment later with a manacled and struggling Draco Malfoy.
A chorus of boos rained down on the bloody, bedraggled Death Eater, and more than a few empty bottles. Leading the chained youth to the center of the hall, the aurors presented him before Harry.
Harry looked down at his erstwhile rival-cum-Death Eater and raised an open hand, silencing the hall.
"Draco Malfoy, you stand convicted of conspiring in Dumbledore's death, leading Death Eaters into Hogwarts, taking the mark of Voldemort and fighting in his army, and generally being a wanker. The sentence for your crimes is death." Harry's proclamation was greeted by another raucous cheer from the crowd.
Unable to respond through the silencing charm, Draco contented himself to sneer at Harry. Behind Draco, ministry officials wheeled a pair of carts into the room. The carts were oddly matched; the first held an innocuous pair of muggle raffle drums, the second--pushed with long poles by men wearing masks--contained a garbage can filled to the brim with pure filth. Grawp, eager to participate in the celebration but unable to fit into the Hall had contributed the bucket after a night spent gorging himself on burritos and spoiled seafood… The crowd parted wide as the second cart passed.
"Now, I don't want you to think that we are entirely without mercy." Harry continued. "So we're offering you a choice: You can take the relatively easy way out and drown yourself in the bucket" the guards brought the prisoner close, holding his face over the putrid mess "or you can try your luck with the lottery."
At this, the crowd began to chant "Lot-ter-ry" "Lot-ter-ry"
With a sick look at the bucket, Draco weakly nodded to the cart holding the raffle drums. The throng cheered, as Harry began to turn the first drum, which contained the names of those assembled in the hall. After shuffling the names, Harry reached an arm deep inside and removed a folded slip of paper. Quickly reading the result, Harry looked up to the crowd.
"And the winner is… Hagrid!"
Hagrid's triumphant roar drowned out several disappointed groans, and the half-giant made his way to the front of the crowd.
In the immediate aftermath of the Second War against Voldemort, a large number of people had sought revenge against those who had spent the past year tracing a path of destruction and terror across the Wizarding World; those few Death Eaters that had escaped capture at the Battle of Hogwarts were dragged, cowering, from their homes and killed without mercy in the streets. But there were many more people thirsty for blood, and with no remaining Wizard justice system Harry thought that a lottery was the fairest way of giving everybody an equal chance for revenge. And so it was that every person who had come to Harry asking for vengeance had their name entered into the lottery, and every hour, on the hour, for the past two days they had dragged a Death Eater into the hall and drawn a name. It was quickly agreed that the killing curse did not invoke nearly enough suffering, so one of the twins (Harry couldn't recall which one) had suggested the second drum, into which people had submitted various methods for eliminating the prisoners. Some of the suggestions had been… creative.
Spinning the second drum, Harry withdrew another folded slip of parchment and handed it to his first magical friend, who followed the aurors and prisoner out the back of the hall.
Reading the parchment, Hagrid paused and turned back toward Harry.
"What the bloomin' hell is a 'Donkey Punch'?"
Authors Notes:
Most of my pre-readers--having apparently not attained my level of perversity--had not the slightest idea what a "Donkey Punch" is... which sort of spoiled the punch line, IMO.
According to Wiki, "A Donkey punch is a slang term for an apocryphal and potentially lethal sexual practice supposedly performed during anal sex. The purported practice involves the penetrating partner punching the receiving partner in the back of the head or neck causing the receiving partner's anal passage to tense up and increase the pleasure of the penetrating partner."
I also just noticed that both of my published stories involve Draco dying due to Giant-rape. Go figure.