I do not own Harry Potter or any characters/plots associated with said books
Draco Malfoy had never screamed in all his fifteen years. He hadn't screamed the day he was born. He hadn't screamed the first time, when he was seven, that a man had groped him and forced him to do things, awful things with his mouth. He hadn't screamed when his father broke both Draco's legs and six of his ribs when the mudblood had beaten him in his OWLs. He hadn't screamed when his father had attacked him for his balant refusal of the Dark Lord's wishes, as the cane cut into his flesh again and again, leaving him half alive and unconsious for days.
He hadn't screamed when the Dark Lord had decided on his punishment, to hand him to the Death Eaters that had been salivating over him since he was eight. He thought that maybe his father had admired this resraint.
He didn't scream when the Death Eaters pounded into him again and again, marring his skin with scratches from their filthy fingernails and rope burn from the twine that was kept around his wrists to stop his fighting. He knew that they wanted him to scream for them. When he lay in their beds after, half-conscious, he consoled himself with this fact. Before the end of his fifth summer, Draco Malfoy was a twisted, empty shell of what he had been. Scars of varying severity littered his body from the sadistic kinks of His followers.
One especially made him almost unrecognizable from the proud, arrogant boy he had been. It ran from his temple to his chin, and was the sickly purple of permanence. He hadn't screamed hen he recieved it. He couldn't remember who he had recieved it from, because there had been so many, oh so many.
He wondered if he would scream now. His feet dangled, delightfully free, over the stone ledge. Just one more inch, and he would fall, down, down, down, never again have to worry about what life could throw at him next. He supposed he would be going to hell, as dirty, terribly dirty as he was. As they had made him.
He wondered if he would be able to spot the difference. He wondered if hell for him would be as it is now, with countless, lustfilled faces and red-hot pains. He supposed it might, but that chance that it wouldn't gave him hope. And hope was exactly what he neeeded.
The stars really were beautiful tonight. His constellation, the Dragon, stood brightest. How very appropriate.
"Malfoy?" the voice was familiar, yet it lacked the passionate quality that Draco admired it for. He turned, loving how this movement almost tipped him over the edge.
They were standing there, the three of them. And all the professors. And hundreds of students, crowding togather in the huge astronomy room. Despite the variety of the crests, they all bunched together and watched him with wide, stupidly blinking eyes. The professors stood in a line at the front, looking very much as if they were dealing with a rampaging horse instead of a sucidal teen. And in front of them, in the very front, were them.
"Potter, Weasley, Granger." Drarco inclined his head and turned back to te front, where a vast expanse of nothingness was before him. Beautiful nothingness. "Why are you here?"
"To save you." Potter answered, without missing a beat. I laughed. It was a hollow sound, and I felt an odd sense of nostalgia for the sneering snicker it had been. Before.
"You can''t save me. It's too late. Way too late. Too late for anything but this."
Severus pushed his way to the front. He stared at me with reproachful black eyes as if I was misbehaving. As if I had no right to act this way after all he'd done for me.
"Where were you, Severus? Why didn't you save me?" Draco knew his voice sounded pathetically weak, but he didn't particularly care. Severus bowed his head and didn't speak. "If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have to do this. I wouldn't be scarred and dirty."
"I couldn't save you, Draco. I tried, I tried so hard. But you were always... busy."
"Busy, yes. You want to hear my business pitch?"
Severus shook his head.
"Okay here it goes: Feeling sexually frustrated? Have a taste for unwilling blonde teenage boys? Blood kinks that nobody seems to satisfy? Just ring the little bell above your bed and Draco Malfoy, slut extrordinaire, will be with you momentarily for a night of pain and humiliation! And, if you ring right now, as an added bonus he will clean up all his blood and be out of your room before you wake in the morning.
"So what do you think? Too long? Does it get the point across?"
Apparently it did that quite well. The entire room was so quiet a pin drop might deafen you. The students stood, moving closer together, and cried stupidly. Draco didn't know how you can cry stupidly, but they managed it.
The professors looked sad, but unsurprised.
And them. They looked horrified. The mudblood was crying heavily, with silent sobs that racked her body violently. The Weasel just stood there, staring at Draco, with a dense, shocked expression on his face. He looked frozen. And Potter, he moved toward the distraught blonde. Draco didn't stop him, suddenly feeling his own tears well up and turn his gray eyes a sparkling silver.
Potter sat down next to him, and pulled him into his arms in a gentle hug. Was Draco in his right mind, he probbly would have fought. As it was then he clutched the Golden Boy's pajama shirt and leaned against him, absorbing whatever comfort he could from this body that meant him no harm.
"Hundreds of times, Harry. I was raped hundreds of times." Draco sobbed, finally letting his tears spill over and stain Potter's shirt. Harry made shhhhing noises that calmed him and made his sobs subside into small sniffles.
"It's okay, love. If you need to do this I have no right to stop you." Harry got up and put his back to Draco and faced the rest of the student body, ready to fend them off when he jumped. Draco felt ready now. Almost.
"Harry? Remember one thing for me. I never screamed. Remember how strong I was, that they couldn't make me scream."
Harry nodded solemnly.
Draco didn't scream as he fell.
He laughed.