I'll bet you don't know what I'm gonna say first! I don't own these characters, I just use and abuse them. except the executioner, she's mine. Anyways...here's chapter four. It went in a very different direction than I was planning. oh well.

Hours turned to days and days to weeks as Draco languished in his cell. He could no longer remember a time when pain was not a part of his life. He began to forget everything about himself. Eventually, the only thing he could remember was his duty, his duty to his father and to the Dark Lord. He still could not speak.

His only visitors were the executioner and his nighttime "lover." The only good thing about his visits was Draco knew it was night. The executioner tried to leave him disoriented, but this was one thing she could not stop. Even so, he was losing his mind.

His torture developed a sort of routine for him. The executioner never came at the same time, but the way his days began to blend together made it impossible for her to startle him any longer. He slowly started slipping away. When she was torturing him, or when he was hurting him, Draco would sink deep inside himself. Sometimes he would go into so deep a trance it would be several days before he awoke.

Then one night, as he lay awake waiting for him to come, screams and curses shattered the silence. Draco dragged himself into a corner and curled into a ball.

A multitude of footsteps were coming ever closer to his cell. Tears began to fall down his face. He hadn't cried in days his body was so numb to pain. But he had no idea what was coming, getting closer! He was afraid.

He heard the doors of the cells around him being flung open. Underneath the crack of the door he saw the bright lights of spells, red for stunning and green for killing. Finally, his door was blasted in, and Draco tried to make himself even smaller.

The hallway was lit, and the figure in the doorway could not be identified. The lights behind the shadowy figure made it impossible for Draco to see a face.

"Malfoy?" the figure said in a horrified whisper. Vague memories came flooding back to Draco. The voice was familiar to him, and not as one he would trust. He just couldn't place it. Draco turned his face to the corner as violent sobs shook his entire body with absolutely no sound.

The figure at the door swore and called down the hallway. Draco was no longer listening; he did not want to look into the face of another tormentor. The tears stopped, but now he was shaking uncontrollably again. He had begun to get used to his torment, and now his father was adding something else.

He was startled by someone draping a cloak over his shoulders. Draco did not realize how much he missed wearing clothes, but he knew this was only a trick. He would begin to think his torture was over, only to have it begin again. He tried to let out a laugh, but of course, no sound came out. Only a deranged smile lit his face.

The person who settled the cloak on his shoulders recoiled at the look on Draco's face, but Draco didn't care.

More people entered the cell, but Draco took no notice of them. He was slipping away into his mind. He began to think all of this was a dream.

"Hold this under his nose, it will make him sleep and then we can move him." A bottle was handed to the one who first entered. Draco heard the comment and tried desperately to not inhale whatever potion that was in front of him. It was no use. He drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the first real sleep he had gotten in two months.

Draco awoke but could not open his eyes. He heard voices and began to listen to them when he realized he was the subject matter.

"…haven't seen the worst of it yet. It's like that over his entire body."

"Why would that happen to Malfoy though, I mean he's a bloody death eater!"

"He doesn't have the mark," retorted the first voice. It seemed higher than the second.

The two continued bickering, but Draco could no longer concentrate. He began to drift back into oblivion but was startled back into awareness when he realized he was lying on a bed and the sun was on his face. He desperately tried to open his eyes; he longed to see what light looked like. But it was to no avail, as they stayed determinedly closed.

Tired from the struggle, Draco allowed himself to relax and fall back asleep.

When he next awoke, he could open his eyes. It was night, and so dark he thought he was back in his cell, and the warm bed was only a tantalizing dream. It was then he realized he was still in that very same bed. He almost wept for joy.

He slowly sat up, and was relieved to see he was clad in striped blue and white pajamas. However, he could still see his hands. While they no longer were swollen and did not hurt anymore, they remained twisted and mangled.

He looked around the room he was in. Five other beds were in the same room, and all of them were filled with patients who looked as Draco felt, beaten down and afraid. They looked this way in their sleep, for Draco was the only one awake.

Draco pushed the blankets from him and swung his legs to the side. He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, wondering if he would get in trouble for moving. This thought sent him into a panic. He had felt so safe, but what if this was just a cruel trick to lead him into a false sense of security. Then there would be even more reason to punish him. Not only was he a failure, but he could not abide by the rules.

He shakily put himself back into bed and tried to get hid body exactly the way it was before he woke up. They would know if he moved. He was not allowed to move, the executioner had told him on a number of occasions…

"Draco, I'm going to leave you now. I don't know when I'll be back, but you are not to move from this spot. I will know if you moved."

Draco could only nod. He was standing in the center of his cell, arms hung loosely at his sides. He had no intention of moving. He was standing for an hour when he heard the door creak open. Draco broke out in a cold sweat. He could smell the man, his sweat and lust mingling into a repulsive scent that made Draco almost vomit.

"Was my sweet Drakey waiting for me?" the man asked with feigned sweetness. Draco shuddered. Usually at this point he would back into a corner, but he could not move. She told him not to move. The man began circling him, licking his lips, and enjoying the fact that Draco was on display. Draco shuddered as he moved closer. Cold fingers began to caress his mangled body. The executioner did not fix him yet. Cuts where she scraped her burning wand across hurt even more as his rapist pressed his fingers into them.

In the end, Draco did move from his spot. He ended up on the floor, his attacker giggling as he slid into Draco's already broken body. He was gentle this time after he was done, kissing Draco and telling him he was beautiful. Draco always thought he had a wonderful physique, but now the compliment made him want to vomit. Draco lay on the floor after he left and that was how the executioner found him.

She was not pleased he moved

Draco woke with a start. He had not realized he had fallen asleep. The sun was starting to rise. It was beautiful. He got up onto his elbows to get a better view.

He heard voices coming from down the hall. He strained to listen, but only got a few snippets.

"…don't think he really would want to see you right now. I mean, you guys did pretty much hate each other."

"Yeah, I guess he did always hate the 'famous Harry Potter.'"

Draco was confused. Who the fuck is Harry Potter?

Umm...Review please. That would be just fantastic.