Title: Fall Apart – Chapter 1

Author: Nevoreiel (lamort_noir@hotmail.com)

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Rating: R

Summary: A mind haunted by memories; a mind tortured by forced visions; the Dark Lord who was the cause of it all; who will fall apart first?

Disclaimer: All familiar characters and situations are Copyright by J. K. Rowling and Co.           

Warning: This story is SLASH (male/male relationship), also extreme violence and scenes of torture; the R rating is for a reason.

Notes: The first installment of a short story written for the horror of reading. Thanks goes to my beta, Jessica!

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The images assaulted relentlessly and they burned holes in his mind like caustic acid. The screams felt penned up in Harry's head, reverberating as if in a cave. But instead of lessening in sound and intensity they grew greater and became nothing short of unbearable.

The faces that he saw might as well have been all identical for the pain that was etched in the open mouth and staring eyes, eyes that accused, disfiguring the whole expression.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, bolted upright in his bed as bright red eyes invaded the scene. His scar burned terribly and the horrible chuckle lingered even as the images bled away from the reality of the hazy light surrounding the four-poster bed.

It was Christmas morning but if judging by the beginning of the day, the rest of it wasn't going to be much better. The whole break wasn't any better, granted it wasn't the most horrible of breaks...but then it wasn't the most wonderful either. Staying at the Hogwarts castle wasn't exactly the grandest vocation but since Death Eater activity had peaked a few months before, leaving the castle – now appropriately on high alert and with heightened security – would have been foolish and unnecessary.

The Dark Lord surely wouldn't halt his evil schemes just so Harry Potter could spend a nice Christmas with the Weasleys, which is completely ridiculous. As Voldemort believed, the Potter nuisance should have as much fun as a dead rat.

Delivering gruesome half-visions, half-nightmares as often as possible had become his favored weapon. As Voldemort could not destroy The Boy Who Lived physically, mentally was the next best thing. On this night of all nights, he did not fail to deliver.

Harry clutched convulsively at his forehead as his scar throbbed painfully with faint traces of a Crucio spell, cast on another one of Voldemort's numerous victims. This was one of the more vivid scenes of torture that he had to endure and he struggled to suppress the images that lingered. But whether he wanted it or not, the details started to emerge.


A sudden image, of someone lying pathetically at the Dark Lord's feet, flashed before Harry's eyes and he gasped at the intensity and vivid color. The figure was covered with red streaks but no matter how dirty and bloody the trembling body was, it was no mistaking Draco Malfoy.

- - -

Draco was awakened by rough hands as he was shaken awake and promptly hauled out of bed. His breath hissed through his clenched teeth.

"Quiet, Mr. Malfoy," the voice was familiar. So it was Professor Snape who was dragging him to his feet, none too gently, by his collar and throwing a pair of shoes at him.

Draco knew better then to protest or ask questions and they quickly and silently made their way through the dark corridors of Malfoy Manor. Not speaking was certainly alright-but young Mr. Malfoy was getting panicked as he realized that their destination was the dungeons below Malfoy Manor.

He stumbled and almost fell while descending the moss covered dungeon steps. If it had not been for the steadying hand on his arm he certainly would have fallen. Glancing up he saw the black silhouette of the cloaked figure, menacing with its lack of color and expression. But comfort lay in the fact that it was his Head of House and not some mindless goon.

They finally emerged in the cavernous main "hall". That is, if you could call a stone room with torches set in small niches, a hall. The sparse light illuminated a gathering of black cloaked and sinister figures and it resembled a twisted funeral.

The figures stood in a circle with a gap large enough for one person. Professor Snape stepped towards this gap and roughly pushed Draco through it, stepping nearer, closing the space, and completing the circle.

Draco stumbled and warily gazed around at the black holes instead of faces, all stood like stone statues, immovable and eternally cold. He was trapped and he knew it but the purpose of the whole gathering was completely unknown to him.

Another figure slowly moved towards the circle, emerging from the dark hallway leading into the heart of the dungeons. Fear clawed its way up and Draco trembled as the figure advanced. Twin red orbs stared at him and his knees grew weak. Voldemort.

"So glad you could join us Draco," the voice was papery thin and made you want to clasp your hands to your ears to shut it out, "my, my, you've grown." The circle shifted to let the cloaked and hooded figure inside and then assembled itself back into a circle. No escape.

Voldemort lifted his bony hands and pushed the hood off his head, his hideous face was as bad as his voice had been. Snake-like and emaciated, he was a horror to behold and those red eyes made him look feral.

Draco was ready to collapse as the figure circled him and seemed to size him up.

"Lucius." The Dark Lord regarded Draco with predatory eyes.

"Yes, milord?" The voice belonged to his father and it sounded pitiful and ready to please.

"You've displeased me, Lucius." His wand was taken out and the Death Eaters shifted visibly.

One of the figures fell to its knees, "I'm ready to do anything – "

"Silence, you fool. I did not ask you to speak!" The figure further lowered itself and seemed to be praying, lying prostrate on the stone floor. No response. "You see, Lucius, I begin to doubt your devotion to the cause. You're not as fervent as you've been in earlier years. I think we need a little incentive to make you see that our cause holds top priority over everything else." This was punctuated with a lazy flick of the wand and one small word: "Crucio."

The one who was on the receiving end of the wand writhed helplessly as gurgled screams filled the cavernous room. The hood fell away and Lucius Malfoy was revealed, not that Draco had any doubt, but seeing his father contract in agony was painful to watch and he turned away.

The screams were cut off abruptly and dry, cold fingers grasped his chin and turned his head violently to face front where his father was awkwardly getting up and fixing his robes and hair.

"Don't turn away, Draco, it's so much more entertaining to watch." The eyes stared Draco down and since he could not turn his face away he lowered his eyes submissively. The touch of that skin revolted him and if he hadn't been so scared, he would have vomited whatever was trying to crawl out of his stomach currently.

"I think I know how you could prove to me, Lucius, that our cause is the most…important." Voldemort smiled and his face shifted, making the smile look grotesque, like a grinning skull. His hand released its harsh grip and one of those fingers, thin as a stick, caressed his cheek. The gentle touch quickly turned into a harsher one as the Dark Lord pressed his nail into Draco's cheek and dragged it down, raising blood. Draco winced but otherwise did not give any other indication that the touch felt like poison, eating away at him.

Lucius gave no sign that this was affecting him in the slightest. "Whatever you wish, milord."

"Splendid, then let the amusements begin." The revolting figure finally released Draco completely, and the blonde was ready to faint from the emotional and physical strain of it all.

Voldemort beckoned to one of the figure in the circle, "Come here, Severus," the figure in question stepped forward and bowed. "I have a job for you. Go to the storage cabinet and get me the largest whip that you can find. I'm sure there'll be something suitable."

With another bow, Professor Snape departed, Draco looked after him mournfully. Seeing that look, the Dark Lord gripped the blonde's hair and tugged at it, making Draco expose his pale throat. "Don't worry, Draco, he'll be back." The grip loosened and Voldemort threaded his fingers in the blonde head, mockingly caressing it and then quickly jerking his hand away. The fear in Draco's stomach started eating away at his insides, and all the taunting was unbearable.

"And you, Lucius," that bone of a finger pointed accusingly at the impassive Lucius, "better be on your best behavior, our sport today will not be ruined on your account." The elder Malfoy nodded, his hood was never pulled back up and Draco saw that his father was resolute and infinitely cold, no comfort to be found.

Footsteps echoed in the dungeon, Severus Snape was returning, walking with a measured step. He was holding before him, on his upturned palms, a whip made of black leather but instead of one tail it branched out into nine.

Draco started trembling violently and it wasn't the chill of the stone walls and floor that affected him so. He suddenly realized that his presence there meant many unpleasant things for him. He felt cornered and sure that no one was going to come to his aid, not his father, not Professor Snape, no one. He also realized that he hated Voldemort for what he was doing and whatever it was that was going to be done to him, hated him utterly, even more than he had hated Potter.

Voldemort gestured for the whip to be handed to him, once he had it he stroked it thoughtfully, "Such a beautiful thing. Sometimes Muggles do make the most wonderful devices. Restrain him," he pointed out two of the men with the whip, the tails swinging, "the rest – wait your turn and do keep an eye on Lucius. I just don't know if he can stay in the spirit of it all."

Draco stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide, not resisting when the two men each took an arm and roughly wrenched them away from his body, pushing apart his feet at the same time. He felt vulnerable and open to anything. The goons hanging on his arms seemed to take great pleasure in holding the wrists with more force then necessary.

Draco tried to find the comforting figure of his Potions Master-but he was now one of the many hooded men standing before him. Meanwhile Voldemort had looked carefully at Draco and unconsciously weighed the whip in one hand then the other. He finally walked around to the point where Draco could no longer see him.

The revolting hands were on him again but this time at the small of his back, un-tucking his silk black pajama top and pushing it up to his neck, securing it there with a muttered spell. Draco's muscles clenched as nothing happened and then the first blow landed. It fell right between his shoulder blades and it burned many bloody trails. It felt like he was being skinned alive.

He wanted to scream but the scream never got to leave his lips as another blow fell, this time lower, pure agony. He let out a piercing "No!" and heard the Dark Lord whisper in his ear, "I will rip those screams out of you but don't you dare speak!"

Draco stared ahead at his father as he was hit again, a choked gasp coming free. Lucius was still as calm as before.

"Yes, it burns you terribly, doesn't it? It was charmed exactly for that purpose." The leather whip was brought to his back where Voldemort trailed it over the bruised flesh. Draco thought that he felt the sting of broken skin but it felt much more like there was no more skin left. Tears rolled down his cheeks, he hung his head in defeat. If it were not for the two who held him, he would have keeled over.

"But I tire of this. Muggle contraptions can only take you so far," the whip was handed over to the nearest Death Eater, "have you ever felt the pain of a Cruciatus Curse, young one?" Draco's blood froze. "Well, it's about time you did. Crucio."

Pain…it was pure undiluted pain. Draco was vaguely aware that he hit the floor, hard, but the pain of the impact was nothing compared to the hands ripping at him from the inside, trying to take him apart. He was sure he was screaming but all he heard was the pain rushing through him. It seemed to last forever.

When it abruptly disappeared, Draco gasped for breath but his raw nerves ached as the cool air washed over his throat. He realized that he'd been clawing at himself and no one had cared to stop him, his shirt had many rips and tears in it, the cuts stung. The cool stone under his back felt good to his injured skin.

"Do what you like now," Voldemort turned and drifted away. The Death Eaters were ready to pounce. "But…" nobody moved, "I'd like Severus to wield the whip in my stead first. I want to hear more of those delicious screams."

The whip was handed to the figure who must have been Professor Snape as the person still wore their hood. He moved towards Draco, the latter shrinking back at the sight of the whip, trying to crawl backwards, still lying on the stone floor.

Voldemort paused, "Wait, Severus," the figure stopped, "take off your hood so young Mr. Malfoy may have someone else to stare at besides his father.

Professor Snape complied and his face was revealed, he looked as calm as Lucius. He stepped up to Draco and cocking his arm back brought the whip down on Draco's chest. The boy curled around himself at the pain but quickly uncurled when a boot kicked him in the side; it had been his Head of House's boot.

Panicked, Draco sought to escape the blows of the whip and turning onto his hands and knees he was ready stand up when that same boot pushed him down, "Crawl, worm." The comment stung but so did the whip.

Trying in vain, Draco tried to crawl away but was not fast enough and the whip always found him. Blood trickled from the hashes on his back. He moaned as his body started going numb from the shock. Snape leaned over him and pulling on his hair cruelly, leaned in even closer, whispering comforting words, "Hold on, Mr. Malfoy." The warm presence over him withdrew and Draco awaited the singing of the whip through the air, singing the song of pain, but it never came.

Voldemort had gestured "Enough." He stood for a moment as if savoring the smell of blood in the air. "Now you can do as you want…but don't kill!"

The cloaked figures swooped upon him. Someone kicked him in the ribs and someone, maybe unintentionally, stepped on his left hand. A wand was drawn over his back and the dull throbbing pain flared again making him scream in agony.

As someone cast the Cruciatus on him again he promptly blacked out and Voldemort promptly scattered his followers, reviving the young Malfoy.

Draco lay sobbing and bleeding at the Dark Lord's feet, at his mercy. "Get him out of my sight, Lucius, and get him cleaned up," Voldemort lifted his cloak off the ground as if Draco could contaminate him with his filthiness. "He should be presentable by the time he's to return to that school of his."

Professor Snape levitated the exhausted Draco and they made their way out of the dungeons. A moment later many pops were heard as the cloaked figures disapparated.

"You'll be alright, Draco," Lucius spoke to his son for the first time that night-or maybe it was morning already. Hard to tell when your head is still swimming from the pain.

And he was alright after all the potions, creams, charms, and what-nots that were designed to heal severe physical injury.

But Draco's brain was still a bit numb. One thought ran through it constantly: "Revenge will be had."

To Be Continued…

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Next Installment: Look for it Friday, March the 21st where Harry and Draco find something in common after all but at what cost to their sanity? To receive it Thursday, March the 20th just sign up at the message board – I  can't post the link at stupid FF.net, so visit my website where you will click on the contacts link and follow it from there – and  all new stories and chapters will be mass e-mailed to all members. Makes my life much easier that way. The deadline is pretty stable but the numerous projects I have might disturb it, therefore the backup deadline is Wednesday, March the 26th.

A/N: Feedback appreciated.