Numb
By: Anti Darth Ani
Chapter One: Tired
Author's Notes:
What can I say besides I finally got this story up and running? I know it's been a while, but this is the companion story to Breaking the Habit. No, you don't need to read that story to understand this one. This fan-fic has the same basic plot line as Breaking the Habit, but this one is from Draco's side of things (so you know it's going to be a little darker and mysterious). You will finally learn all the answers to the questions I left unanswered from Breaking the Habit!
As you can tell, this story's title is, like the one in Ginny's point of view, taken from the title of a Linkin Park song. The chapter titles are the lyrics of the song in order. So, I don't claim or own them or anything like that.
I'm sorry to say that this story isn't going to be in the same flashback format as Breaking the Habit was. I really wanted to, but I'm sure some of you are really relieved that I'm not going to since it was such a pain in the butt to read it that way for many of you!
I also want to warn you real quick that I am going to be slow to updating this fan-fic, at least at first, because I am extremely busy with school right now and I am also still writing Seven Minutes in Heaven, along with a Without a Trace fan-fic on without further ado, let's get a rolling on this wonderful little story of mine. And remember, reviews make my day!
They told him if he didn't think about it, it wouldn't hurt. Who had told him that? He couldn't seem to remember as the throbbing in his arm doubled, another slice cutting into his perfect, pale skin. Was it Crabbe? No, that little git had passed out when he had gotten his, no words of wisdom from him. Plus, Draco would not have bothered remembering something Crabbe had told him. So who had it been then?
Certainly not his father. He didn't talk to his father anymore, never really had. Mainly he had listened to his father talk about the way he wanted his son, his only child, to carry on in his father's footsteps, to fulfill the Malfoy destiny.
Is this my destiny? he asked himself, biting down on his tongue to keep from screaming out. The brightness didn't blind him so anymore. He could make out the blurry figures looming over him a little better. Everything in his sight consisted of different shades of black except for that blasted brightness. What kind of life will this destiny give me? He wanted to please his father, mostly because his father and his mother were the only family he had (and he had grown up learning that his mother was far too weak to honor).
Everything seemed twisted and distorted in his mind. Why would his father want to hurt him like this? It wasn't as if Draco didn't act interested in his father's cause, and the greater cause of the Dark Side. And surely, his father couldn't have realized so quickly that Draco's mind lay on a different issue entirely, an issue every teenage boy understood quite clearly.
He hissed out and he felt the burn of the healing process begin. Bloody… sodding… idiots. I'll kill them all one of these days. His anger matched the stress he had been feeling for the past six weeks. Pansy still didn't want to realize that he had no feelings for her, that his interests lie in the other beautiful girls of Hogwarts. Say, the blonde ones. Besides, he was far too busy with Quidditch practice and docking points from all the students in the halls at night to have to worry about that whinnying little bitch. Sometimes he just wanted to bash her head against a wall.
Dizziness overwhelmed him and he was jerked upright. He couldn't bare to look down at his arm, to see what they all saw, what they took as a symbol of honor and alliance. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Wincing at the all too bright lights, he waited for the room to stop spinning in his eyes.
He didn't need his vision to know that the man in the black cloak before him was his father. Draco knew that self-satisfied smirk as his own, the one he forced everyone to see as he walked around Hogwarts as the king. It didn't matter if they liked him, as long as they respected him- as long as they feared him. Draco got that from his father.
Speechless was something Draco Malfoy never was. But, as he stood in front of his father and his father's colleagues, he couldn't find his voice. Suddenly, he wasn't the king of the world anymore. He was surrounded by other men, stronger men who knew how to kill- had to wipe the blood off of their hands at night. Swallowing, he raised his head and forced himself to look his father in his eye. Draco was anything but a coward and he was going to prove that to his father- to the world- if it was the last thing he ever did.
He grunted as someone behind him roughly jerked his head back. Suddenly, he was looking directly into the blinding light. Yet, at the same time, he couldn't force himself to look away. He wasn't afraid, no Draco Malfoy was never afraid. But he was consumed with the knowledge of what had just happened to him- what he had let them do to him. He heard the soft click of a boot onto the cement floor. Draco tried to face his father in front of him, but he couldn't pull away from the hand holding him.
Cool metal slid over his neck, causing him to shiver slightly. The man behind him sneered, the only way these Death Eaters ever laughed. Then he was abruptly pushed forward. He tried not to stumble, he didn't want to have to have his father's help (or his touch). Looking past his sooty hair, Draco stared at his father's arm for the first time. Pulling his sleeve up of his own robe, he stared at his identical mark and felt the bottom of his stomach drop. This is what he had become. His father.
Draco jerked up in his bed, wincing at the pain that shot up his arm and through his entire body. God, it never stopped hurting. He looked around and frowned, wishing to be at his house, in his room with his own bloody House Elves who would do anything he asked of them. Here, he was limited to a warm fire and clean robes. Everything else he had to do himself.
Pushing his sheets to the side, Draco slid out of the bed silently. Not that he had anyone to disturb; the great advantages of being Head Boy, it seemed. Now, it all seemed so pointless because it couldn't help him sleep at night; couldn't prevent the nightmares that plagued him. All the powers in the world, all the magic he knew, couldn't make him forget, and it certainly couldn't get the blasted mark to disappear.
Although that hadn't stopped him from trying every removal spell written. But the Death Eaters were a smart bunch, and wouldn't let anything spoil their plans that they took from the Dark Lord. So they made sure it was impossible for the mark to be removed, for the chain to never come off of his neck. And even the nightmares he couldn't rid himself of. No matter what he did before he slept, or no matter who he slept with, they still came back eventually. He could only numb himself for a little while.
Pulling on his cloak, not even feeling the sharp pain that went through his arm as the fabric touched the twisted flesh, Draco headed for the door. Well, if he couldn't sleep, he might as well get an early start on docking points. It always made him a little happier to see two little third years pissing their pants while being caught in the broom closet.
Making his way through the cool hallways of the lower parts of the school, Draco let his mind wonder to the day ahead of him. So much to do, and so little time to accomplish it in. And, it was only one more week until the Yule Ball. Quidditch season was making sure he kept busy. So Draco had enough to do to keep him mind off of his father's plans for him.
He decided to check the library first. He always caught at least one student trying to sneak into the Restricted section late at night. And then there were the over achievers who loved to study at the wee hours of the morning. Both types of people sickened him to no end.
Making his way into the warm library, Draco strained his ears for just the smallest peep. Any sound at all and he'd hear it, that was for sure. He heard the tiniest rustle coming from the back of the library. As he walked closer and closer to the sound, he realized it wasn't a rustling at all. It was someone snoring, softly maybe but still snoring nonetheless. The trademark smirk of the Malfoy clan crossed over his pale face when he thought about the rude comments he could make. If his own pain wouldn't go away, then he would lessen his pain by pushing it onto others.
He didn't know who was going to get the treat this morning, but he silently hoped for it to be a Gryffindor, or maybe even a Ravenclaw. Either way, it didn't matter in the end to him as long as he got the final result.
As he slid silently through the overstuffed stacks in the back of the library, the faint sound grew even louder until it almost sounded like a whisper. Finally, the end of a table came into view and Draco pushed his long legs to make longer strides. He could almost see the person sitting at the table. A few more meters, four or five at most, and he would be able to find his prey. As Draco rounded the end bookcase, he caught sight of a red mass of curly hair.
Oh, someone was out to make his day a good one today. No one to bother would make him feel a little bit better about himself than a Weasley, except maybe Harry Potter himself. Draco figured that Potter's little stalker might do well enough as he got closer, enough to see the tattered, hand-me-down rags Ginny Weasley wore.
He walked over behind the little 6th year, one of the only girls left at Hogwarts who hadn't seemed to really hit her growth spurt yet. He couldn't see her face, only the hair attached to the head that was laying face down on a Potions book. Her forehead rested on her arm, her hand still clutching a quill she'd been writing a paper with.
Leaning over her, Draco put his mouth as close to her ear as a Malfoy dared to a Weasley. His mind still fogged over with his reoccurring nightmare, Draco couldn't think of a perfectly excellent snide remark for the littlest Weasley, so he simply cleared his throat.
She seemed to stir slowly, her large mass of hair barely shifting as she woke up. Then, before Draco even knew what was going on, her head shot up as she realized she'd fallen asleep in the library. As her head flung up and she scrambled to sit up, the side of her head came in full contact with the front of Draco's nose.
Hissing at the pain, Draco's hand came up quickly to feel his nose, his gut telling him that she'd just broken it. "Bloody hell, Weasley!" he snapped loudly, dropping his wand in all the commotion. At his comment, her head swung around and she gasped at seeing him. Draco rolled his eyes and snatched his discarded wand back up into his hand as he carefully touched the end of his nose with his other hand. It hurt to touch it, but at least it wasn't bleeding (badly).
"50 points from Gryffindor," he spat at her stunned face. "If we weren't in such a public place, Weasley, I'm inclined to say I would have put an extremely painfully curse on you. But, for now I'm afraid I'll have to postpone that." He wanted to get out of there, to go to the hospital wing and have his nose checked before anyone in the school saw it.
Ginny face turned into a frown. "I'd like to see you try," she mumbled, collecting her things quickly. And before he could say another word back to her, she had pushed past him, intentionally shoving her shoulder into his side as she walked by. Draco glared at her retreating form, thinking of all the remarks about her cowardliness he would be able to use at breakfast if he just happened to walk by the Gryffindor table.