I promise that soon the story will get to the point, and be somewhat less torture-oriented. My apologies, unless torture is what floats your boat, in which case, float away.
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Draco and Pansy exchanged looks- hers nervous, his resigned- and she took his bag from him, silently ushering Blaise into the hallway. The empty classroom echoing with the sudden silence, Draco turned to Harry, knowing that his friends would be waiting for him right outside.
"Yes, Professor?" Draco asked, limping forwards cautiously, knowing there was no escape.
"Lock the door. Cast the charms." The orders were delivered in a flat, cool voice. Biting his lip, Draco cast colloportus on the door and a barrier charm on the walls, then setting his wand down on the desk and awaiting Potter's orders. No one would hear him now. No one would come to his aid, not that he'd been expecting it. He'd given up on hope long ago.
"Come here. On your knees."
Draco dropped to his knees in front of him, his jeans providing little comfort on the rough stone floor, already resigned to whatever was about to happen.
Potter reached out and seized a fistful of his hair. Grasping cruelly, he used it to pull Draco's head back, forcing him to look up at his master.
Draco did, frightened by the extremity of the anger he saw there.
"She wanted to know what was wrong with you. Hermione. What did you tell her, you stupid slut? Answer me!" He shook Draco with every word, to accentuate the seriousness of the situation.
"Nothing!" Draco groaned, "She saw me limping! She saw my glamours. I told her nothing!"
"I don't believe you. Why were you limping?"
Draco bit his lip, agonizing over his answer, knowing it would damn him regardless. Finally, in response to a particularly violent tug on his hair, he spat it out. "You're too rough. You know I can't lie!"
His tormenter gripped him by the throat.
"That's not it, is it, my little slut? You're just not getting enough of it. In fact, you probably want it rougher, don't you? You probably want me right now." He looked down on his prey, eyes glinting dangerously with unspoken threats.
Draco shuddered hopelessly, whispering out in monotone, "I'm not getting enough. I want it rougher."
He smiled cruelly down on him.
"Excellent. That's what I thought."
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Draco staggered from the room forty minutes later, dragging his left foot behind him. He gasped for breath, blood bubbling down his chin from where he'd bitten through his lip. Upon seeing him, Pasy and Blaise hastened to his side.
"Merlin," Pansy whispered, turning white, "did he break your ankle?"
Draco shook his head, laughing hollowly Pansy opened her mouth determined to assess the damage, but Blaise shushed her. "We've got to get him to his rooms first. Not here, Pans." She nodded assent, and they supported him between them, leading down to his room in the dungeons.
Blaise moved to lay him on his back, but at his pained gasp, he lowered him onto his stomach instead. Stepping back, it was his turn to gasp.
"Draco… Your back is bleeding. Your shirt's soaked through…" Pansy whispered, tears in her eyes.
"Yeah." He fumbled in his trouser pocket, the gesture made awkward by his position. "He gave me some band-aids. Generous, he is. Here."
Pansy and Blaise exchanged horrified looks, then she took charge. "Okay, Draco. We're just going to get your shirt off and- Oh, what happened?"
His back was covered in lashes, oozing blood, and showing muscle in places.
"Draco, no."
"Like Blaise said," Draco whispered, smiling a haunted smile into the pillows, "He owns me. And what do you do when your property misbehaves?"
"But you didn't!" Pansy began, outraged. "It was that Hermione Granger!"
Draco rolled his shoulders in response, his back arching from the pain a moment later. Pansy drew a deep breath, then began sponging off his back, trying desperately to stifle her sobs. Blaise, meanwhile, moved down to the foot of the bed, kneeling at Draco's feet.
"What's wrong with your ankle, Draco? Broken, sprained, twisted?" He queried, injecting a false calmness into his voice. Inside, though, he panicked. They couldn't hide a broken bone, not without using magic on it. Draco, though, chuckled humorlessly. "It isn't the ankle, Blaise."
When he refused to expand on that, Blaise turned his attention back to his foot. Easing off the Dragon-Hide loafer, he caught his breath. His friends sock was wet with blood. He peeled the sock off, holding his breath, and turned white when he saw the skin beneath.
"Pans?" He breathed weakly, before falling to the floor, sick.
Carved into the sole of Draco's foot, the word "worthless" oozed angrily, marked deep into the flesh.
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"Oh, Draco," Pansy began, biting her lip and reaching for her wand.
"Don't." His voice was quiet, but his serious tone stopped her. "It'll be worse if you do. Besides, it's not that bad, not really. I should be thankful he left my toes attached."
Blaise came back from the washroom, still pale and sweaty, shaking slightly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at his friend. "What do you want us to do, Draco? You can't walk like this."
The tortured Slytherin looked up from his pillows, a confident look on his face despite the pain evident in his eyes. "Could you please wrap it up for me? I'll be fine, truly. I always am."
Pansy shook her head. "Draco, you can't walk on this. No!" His attempts to assure her otherwise were silenced by a simple look from Blaise. Grapping a fistful of gauze, he pressed it lightly to the sole of his friends foot.
Draco cringed, biting into his pillow to keep from screaming.
Pansy shook her head. "I'm sorry, Draco, but we can't fix this. Not this time. We need help. You need help. We need Professor Snape."
Draco looked up from his pillows. When he saw the pleading and compassion in his friends eyes, he nodded his consent, watching sadly as she ran off to find their mentor.
He relaxed back into the pillows as Blaise finished sponging off his foot.
"I'm sorry, Draco," he whispered. "We tried to keep this between us, because you asked us to. But things can't go on like this. I'm sorry."
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