A/N: I have decided to re-edit this story and turn it into a time-travel.
Also, I've changed the name of the story since I saw it more fit:
Discidium
- which means 'rift' in latin. It is linked to the rift between Draco and Voldemort and also discidium can be interpreted as 'space, a hole' which is related to time travel (ahoy, spoilers!)
We do not see space, time and the universe the way they are, we see space, time and the universe the way we are.
- David Lewis anderson
His head was turned to the side, unmoving.
The room was silent, yet the scene kept replaying in his mind with slow deliberation, the memory echo still resounding in his ears.
Draco's eyes were downcast, his bangs shadowing his forehead from Lucius' unfriendly gaze. His cheek stung from the impact of his father's hand.
The young Slytherin was more shocked by his father's unjustified violence than by the pain that left a warm trail on his skin.
"Mr. Parkinson approached me yesterday to inquire about his daughter's well-being. He stated that the last person she was seen with was you before she was found crying in the restroom, by Mr. Parkinson himself."
Draco clenched his hands in fists. She had dared to play the miserable part when it had been her who had assaulted him!
Embarrassment washed over Draco.
The Malfoy heir turned his gaze to his father's impeccable shoes. It had been the second time he had been at the receiving end of Lucius' hand that week. Most of the hurt was done to his pride.
The older Malfoy sighed.
"I had expected better from you, Draco. Mr. Parkinson is a very influential figure at the Ministry; it will bode you well if you refrained from giving him motives to associate the Malfoy name with anything negative."
His jaw clenched. He hadn't even agreed to the marriage and yet already he had to play the good husband to Pansy.
Lucius must have seen the defiance in his body language. He tapped his cane on the marble floor once.
"Did I make myself clear?" His tone allowed no negative response.
Draco dropped his head in a nod to avoid eye contact in case he would lose his self control.
He spoke through his teeth. "Yes, father."
Snape would glance from time to time to his Lord. He had heard of the rumours pertaining to his Master's outstanding academic performances, yet it was all together different to actually witness it.
Voldemort was clad in casual black robes, no doubt a good choice of clothing when it came to brewing potions. The task was long and could be non-hygienic yet the Dark Lord made an art out of it.
Snape had never seen any wizard move so precisely when chopping roots and multitasking the stirring of a potion and measurement of fluids. He had been staring for longer than ten seconds and if the Dark Lord was aware of being observed, which he certainly was, he didn't give any indications of it.
The Potion Master turned to his own brewing to which he had been precisely instructed to its proceedings and ingredients by his Lord. Even though he had been praised for his skills and efficiency in the Potions area he felt himself pale in comparison to the Dark Lord.
The man was brilliant when he was focused.
"Severus..." Snape jumped out of his thoughts at his Lord's voice. It had been over half an hour since any word had been whispered in the dungeon.
"I'll need you to finish in seven minutes, no more, no less."
"Yes, my Lord." He turned to his own cauldron.
The Dark Lord had approached him this morning with the need of help to brew two potions at the same time. For what, he hadn't specified and he hadn't dared to ask. He hadn't heard of any potion like the one he was brewing, but he could guess to its finality. A tonic, he deduced. It wasn't destined to affect physical targets, such as muscles, but to invigorate magic.
He assumed it was because of the Dark Lord's recent rebirth but it seemed too simple reasoning and too unnecessary. Being in the same room as the man was stifling to his senses; the dark magic wafting from him didn't make Snape think that he needed to intensify his powers.
He had been given very short and objective instructions limited to the brewing of his own potion; what the Dark Lord was concocting he did not know. He had been busy creating his own cauldron; it was an advanced potion, different from the Pepper-up, and it had been his first time to execute it.
He had to do it flawlessly. The Dark Lord had him by his side because he expected as much.
Snape uncorked a vial and poured one quarter of his potion into it, just as the written instructions stated.
"My Lord, I've finished the brewing." Without even glancing at his Potion Master, Voldemort answered.
"Punctual as expected, Severus. Leave the vial on your table, you may leave."
Snape quirked his eyebrows at the dismissal. He wasn't going to be allowed to witness the rest of the proceedings...
"Yes, my Lord." Even though the man was turned away from him, Snape bowed nonetheless. He placed the cork on the vial and left the Malfoy dungeon. But before he closed the door, his curiosity slowed him down as he saw his Master grabbing the vial and filling the rest of the glass with the second potion that was unknown to him.
He didn't comprehend why he had mixed two potions into the same vial in those specific quantities but he had no time to dwell on it for the red eyes stared coldly at him and Snape felt as if he were a child who had been caught listening in to an adult's conversation.
He lowered his onyx eyes to the ground and bowed his head before promptly closing the door.
"Ah, how boring! Why do Christmas holidays pass on so quickly? I'm telling you, each year they shorten them without us being aware of it!"
"We're being tricked, I'm pretty sure of that."
Draco and his... group - that's what he had decided to call the lot of them - were sitting inside a cosy and well decorated coffee shop. The windows were slightly foggy due to the difference between the exterior and interior temperatures.
Parkinson, Goyle, Crabbe and Zabini, the usual Slytherins, were sitting on the same table as him and were socializing over warm cocoa and tea. Their parents had been called for a meeting with the Dark Lord again in the Malfoy Manor.
Draco had simply made an excuse of needing to restock his school supplies for potions in Diagon Alley in order not to have to stay under the same roof where murderous plans were certainly being plotted by Voldemort and his followers.
It was also out of fear that his presence could be requested again by Voldemort that he chose to... take a stroll outside. That's what he had told them, although he admitted to himself it had been out of fear.
Draco coughed.
He sipped on his warm Earl Grey tea as he eyed his companions. More like leeches. As soon as he had instructed a house elf on his future whereabouts, these four had attached to him and followed without his approval or denial. They hadn't even asked if they could tag along; they had simply walked beside him, talking and laughing as they exited the Manor.
Goyle had tried to indulge him into some conversations about Quidditch but Draco had simply stared down on him and steered his body toward the window further away from them. Pansy had yet to speak to him... that wench. He hadn't forgotten her attitude of martyr in front of her father toward a situation where he had been the real victim.
Because of her, Lucius had lifted his hand on him, which used to be an extremely rare occurrence. He scratched his cheek absent-mindedly as he imagined the sting of the slap.
Blaise seemed less and less close to Pansy. Today, he wasn't even sitting next to her. He probably knew of the engagement? Or had Pansy broken up the fling between them? He didn't care. She could announce to anyone she wanted, it would only work to his advantage on humiliating her in the future.
If she wanted to play games, she needed to be aware that she had challenged the master of them.
He took another sip as he watched the first snow of that day starting to fall.
He wished to be in his Library to research on the horcruxes that he knew nothing about. He had yet to stumble on any definitions or references. Something called to him, it sounded extremely important.
Another motive for his stroll was to go to Knocturn Alley and maybe find books on the subject. But with those four near him, doing so while being discreet was impossible.
He winced at Pansy's high pitched laugh.
"You sure you don't want to hang out with us next, Draco?"
He denied Crabbe's invitation. He had other things he'd like to do and being in the presence of Pansy was making him brood.
"He has his own secrets to deal with, Vincent." Goyle tried to jab him but his smirk was quickly erased by Draco's sneer.
"Careful whom you talk about, Goyle."
He walked away from them. "I'll see you on first day of school." He waved at them as he retreaded.
He hoped they understood he had dismissed their presence for the rest of the week.
It was five in the afternoon, he had few time left before he needed to be at home. Draco frowned as he walked down the streets toward Knocturn Alley. He was still fifteen thus a child who had a curfew...
Yet grown up enough to witness the torture and murder of a muggle family. Humans were quite the hypocrites.
It didn't matter. He would grow independent soon. What were two more years? He would be done with school and be of legal age, which meant he would have unlimited access to his Gringgots account.
He stumbled on the alley's dirty steps and cursed. He had slipped on something and he wasn't eager to inspect what type of substance it was. A filthy man was sitting in the corner of a closed and run-down store. Dressed in tattered robes, his hair was so matted and oily it stuck to his forehead.
The repulsive homeless wizard had sniggered at his stumble. Draco sneered at him and walked past him without sparing him another glance. Disgusting creature.
If he had been repulsed previously, he was now appalled by the sight he had walked further into; the street was paved in human dejects, trash littered the floor freely and wizards and witches had built nests wherever they could avoid the falling snow.
He had stopped in mid-step as the smell hit his nostrils. The sour sweat of unwashed people hit him the hardest even in the blistering cold that had frozen his nose. He couldn't help but watch as several snowflakes precipitated onto a pile of faeces and promptly melted, indicating it was fresh.
Draco gagged and almost instantly the homeless seemed to break out of their frozen state. They moved with incredible speed after they had asserted his expensive robes and shoes. He tensed, ready to strike at the grovelling approaching creatures.
"Spare us a coin, won't ya lad?"
"A little holiday spirit to open your hand, young man?"
"Please, boy, I haven't eaten in over two days." The whiny weak voice came from behind him and Draco turned around in a second. The old and dirty witch had no teeth and her gloveless hands were spindly and sported black nails. He almost pitied her. "Now those shoes of yours would feed me for a we-" she had tried to reach the polish of his black boots but Draco faltered a step before she touched him.
The young Slytherin frowned at the filthiness of the street and the people inhabiting it like parasites. He felt a tug on his robes.
" 'Tis warm feeling-"
He didn't give the unwashed parasite a chance to finish for he spun around with his wand in hand and aimed at the terrified dirty male face. "Don't touch me, you filthy vermin."
Every other homeless cowered away in fright of his wand.
Draco scanned the walls for signs with the name of the street he was in. He couldn't believe that Knocturn Alley had this level of disturbing to it.
He saw the homeless trying to plead with him once more and two of them had even dared to crawl to him, their undernourished arms reaching to him. He stiffened and turned back, his feet not running but building a very quick pace.
He passed the first homeless man who had laughed at him and he met his oily eyes before skipping two steps as he climbed back to Diagon Alley. The cackle had followed him.
Draco released a shuddering breath as he stepped onto clean pavement. He glanced back at the street only to notice the wizard drawing his ratty robes closer to him in a fruitless attempt to keep more warmth surrounding his body.
Silver eyes inspected the stark contrast between Knocturn and Diagon Alley. There were some families in richly clad outfits taking a stroll outside, some entering and exiting cosy coffee shops followed by laughter and enjoyment. Les Miserables was a much more fitting name to replace Knocturn.
Society was so unbalanced. There were those who died alone in a miserable street without even having a proper meal or a bed, constantly wondering about the motive of their birth and existence, and there were those like himself, who had too much money in their pockets and too many servants at his disposal.
He sighed as he walked to find another street that would open to Knocturn Alley. He could feel pity at their misery but he wasn't going to regret being wealthy. Whom would he fool? Draco Malfoy wasn't one for charity.
He turned left to enter the ominous yet cleaner street. Some darkly clad wizards would spare him a glance and he would stare back unfazed. This was the commercial part of the Alley. There were much less people there and those who walked kept their heads down to avoid being recognized and travelled at a brisk pace in and out of the stores.
Draco had a small notion where to go; his father was an avid dark artefacts buyer and sometimes he would accompany him on his searches, mostly for the Dark Lord's interest. He entered Between the Webs, the standard doorbell ringing as he stepped onto the badly lighted store.
He spotted the old woman at the counter fumbling through papers, too busy to greet her only costumer. He mused she wouldn't do it even if she had the time. The store was very small and dusty, he noticed with a sneer.
There were only books, one could not find any other items if he searched.
Dozens of books upon the shelves stole his attention and he tripped on a stack placed on the floor. He looked back to see the shop owner sparing him a discontented frown.
He shrugged it off as being her fault - she should have kept a more organized space for costumers to inspect the merchandise.
There were three bookshelves with 5 shelves each; that was the amount that had been able to be crammed inside the little shop and Draco scanned the first shelf for titles that could be related to immortality and death.
He was sure he had spent over half an hour examining until he moved to the second shelf. He wasn't a very patient man and he was straining to keep his eyes focused and not skip any title, else his search would be fruitless. There were antimagic wards protecting the books; probably to avoid any decay over the years due to residual magic.
Forty minutes had gone by. He huffed as he had manually finished inspecting all the shelves. There was nothing remotely near to what he was searching for. He looked at the shop owner for an instance when an idea hit him.
"Madam, do you happen to store any other books besides these?" He gave her a polite smile when the brown eyes landed on him, inspecting. Hopefully she would budge to a young educated man, no?
"And why is a young boy asking?" Her eyes travelled from his polished black leather shoes to his neatly combed platinum hair as an emphasis.
Aha. So she had something stored, else her answer wouldn't have been so elusive. He removed a small sack of galleons from his robes and strolled gracefully to the counter. "Age matters not when money is concerned." He placed the velvet dark green bag on the wooden surface and heard the satisfying sound of rattling coins.
The middle aged woman lifted an eyebrow to the bag and then back at him. She stared and inspected him for a moment, wishing to see if he would falter.
Draco answered back with one of his eyebrows.
He had seen Lucius haggle frequently enough to know that the valuable items were stored away from prying eyes... and hands.
"Very well..." She removed a stack of keys from a drawer and walked ahead. He followed.
She unlocked a door he had not previously noticed before, at the far back of the store. It had probably been under the disillusionment charm to keep unwanted costumers away from it. She opened it for him and stepped aside.
"... Take your time."
Draco's eyes widened at the massive storage displayed in front of him. He had been stupidly mistaken for assuming that the building was extremely small; hundreds of bookshelves thrice taller than him were organized with tomes of all imagined origins, all focused on the Dark Arts and some bordering to neutrality.
Bewildered, he entered the room wondering how many weeks it would take him to go through every book.
He gripped at his blond hair in frustration and huffed. Two hours, two bloody hours ever since he had set foot in this goddam store and no reference to what a horcrux could be – a spell, an item, a deity, a code...?
His searching spells didn't work and he suspected the room had a ward against spell casting to preserve the books since some were very tattered and worn.
If it wasn't there, it could be nowhere in Knocturn. He had gone to the only specialized book store and he doubted he could find anything somewhere else.
He turned to pick his robes which had been previously discarded on a chair to favour his movement. As he reached for them, a glimpse of a movement startled him.
He snapped his head to the right and cringed at the crack it gave.
He was sure...
He narrowed his eyes and unpocketed his wand. Step by step, Draco slowly approached the corridor he had spotted movement from. Maybe he was just delusional, he reasoned with himself. The strain of a persistent two hour long search might have impaled his vision.
He heard a shuffling of feet.
Quickly as he could, he rounded the corner with his wand at ready only to catch the glimpse of a billowing cloak for no longer than a second. He ran after it as quickly as his Quidditch reflexes as a Seeker had trained him to.
He panted as he rounded yet another shelf and met emptiness. Whoever it had been was already gone. Frustrated with himself for having lost the race he viciously kicked the wall connected to one of the bookshelves.
The furniture rattled for a bit and he feared that it would fall. That's when he noticed a book that sat upon a wooden stool in the corner. It had a grey hardcover entitled Dark Wizards throughout the History. He had seen it before; this was one of the first sets he had inspected. But he hadn't left it there...
He frowned at the closed book and inspected closer what seemed to be a blond hair stuck between the pages. His? He pulled it and quickly discarded the idea since it was too long to belong to him. He pushed at the strand when it met resistance. It was stuck.
He opened the book where it was marked and his eyes landed on a fresh print. All the other letters were a bit chopped in places, nonetheless understandable, yet there was a small piece of paper, less than half a page that sported a paragraph that seemed to have been printed recently.
His heart skipped a beat as he located the word horcrux along a sentence. His head spun. Finally, finally he had found something! He eagerly read.
A Horcrux is a very powerful vessel in which one can hide a fragment of their soul for the purpose of attaining immortality. Creating a single Horcrux allows one to gain the ability to resurrect themselves if their body is destroyed. The more horcruxes one creates, the closer one is to achieving true immortality. Creating multiple Horcruxes is suggested to be costly to the creator, both diminishing their humanity and physically disfiguring them.
He stared. A soul inside an object? Who would have thought of such a thing? It was a terrifying thought but nonetheless, brilliant in a macabre way! But... how would one fragment their soul? Was there a spell for that? What would such a spell do? Could anyone do it on whatever object they wanted or were there specifications such as being identical or specifically crafted?
His head swam and he took a seat. He breathed out and then laughed. He had finally found the answer. He now grasped the reason for the absence of data; for a wizard concept to lack information was a rare occasion since wizarding society was very ancient and preserved history throughout the centuries. It had to be dark and a danger to the function of humanity in order to be forbidden to write about it.
Just imagine...! Draco couldn't picture how the wizards would act if the commoner had access to such hazardous data. Everyone would want to be immortal.
And someone had deliberately wanted him to read this; for what purpose he couldn't figure. How would they know he had been searching for it?
Draco jumped out of his seat when the paper in his hand incinerated and he watched the ashes disappear into the air.
Without a warning, screams erupted from outside.
"Get down to it, boys!"
Mayhem started in less than 15 seconds – Malik smirked at the fleeing purebloods. It was much more effortless to instigate panic than to calm it. The Singuigal were efficient and weren't afraid to use dangerous curses; they were trained and followed the same noble goal. A mother yelled as a building imploded from ground level. He watched fascinated as it titled over, a big looming shadow overcasting the area that would crush the purebloods in its path.
How horrifically pleasant, he smiled.
The building that housed an expensive two story restaurant came down on the terrified woman without any pause.
How foolish to just stand and gape at impending death. They deserved it, every vile and tyrannical wizard that self categorized as «superior blood».
He sneered in disgust. Filthy and corrupted, yet they had the audacity to act holier-than-thou.
People cried and screamed in panic and horror at seeing their families dying in front of them.
Good.
"None will live. We'll make the world understand our power." He joined the battle, throwing dark curses and hexes. He caught a pedestrian with the heart attack inducing curse and an old man with avada kedavra.
"We be doing them a favour, boys. Let's end their misery!" Voiced his second in command, Vrudel. His violence was accompanied by creativity and touched by insanity.
Draco quickly walked out of the room to see the store owner casting protective charms around her ware with panicked movements.
She spotted him. "I'll have to ask you to leave for now, costumer. It seems there's been an attack nearby." He nodded to her in affirmation.
The older woman moved to magically conceal the door he had just walked out from.
"Is that door always locked whether there are people inside or not?"
She turned to him with an odd expression. "It locks automatically. This part of the store has very ancient protective charms. No one can come in without my strict authorization."
He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "That's an interesting mechanism. How do the wards recognise the wizards?"
"Through your magical signature, Mr. Malfoy. Now I'm sorry, but I have quite a lot of-"
An explosion occurred near the store.
"- work. To close the store safely. I'm sure you understand." Without any other word she turned her back to him and frantically waved her wand to coat her books in preserving charms.
He left the store, his heart beating in slight panic.
The moment he stepped outside, he felt as if he had travelled through different dimensions. When he had been inside the store, everything sounded as if it was occurring much further away.
He deduced there had been silencing charms inside the building to provide a more comfortable reading environment to costumers.
Now that he had abandoned the protective walls, he was bombarded by numerous sounds: feet hitting the pavement as people ran, screams of pain and terror, blasts of spells destroying the surroundings, laughs and hysterical cackles from the assailants.
He was suddenly blinded by the detonation of a building to his left. He covered his ears and cringed at the vibrations sent to his tympanum. Someone ran into him and almost knocked him off his feet and he was about to yell in indignation when more people bumped into his shoulder in a panicked run.
He tried to run out of the middle of the street to avoid the hoard of screaming wizards and witches of running him over. He pushed and shoved and finally reached the side walk which was covered in wreckage of buildings.
A glimpse of flesh caught his attention.
Draco stared at the hand peeking out of the debris. The fingers were bent in a 90 degree angle and shards stuck into the open flesh where nails were missing.
An involuntary flash of how the body would look beneath the collapsed building made his stomach churn. A flashback of a tortured muggle girl surfaced and he shuddered a breath of repulse.
The chaos slowly started to awaken Draco from his momentary trance.
"-resa! Theresa, stop it!"
He gripped his wand with renewed strength at the motherly cry. The pureblood, judging from her expensive robes, tugged at her 7 year old daughter's arm as the little one was trying to pry herself off from her mother. Her other hand outstretched in the direction of a doll that was on the ground a few meters away.
"No! Bethy! Mommy, Bethy is there!"
Another building exploded and he backed away reflexively. Blood curdling screams chilled his skin. More people had been crushed.
A jet of red light seared toward him and he ducked instinctively out of its path. What madness... It was a war zone. His head hurt from the constant assault of powerful explosions. He felt disoriented from having left a calm environment to enter a blood war in less than two steps.
He then registered the sound of yelled spells and hexes, wizards attacking the families which had walked down the street with smiles and pleased expression just 5 minutes ago. Wizarding families which were only running in a panicked frenzy and not fighting back the terrorists. They all had wands, why weren't they reciprocating?
On his left a pregnant woman collapsed on her bulging stomach. He watched in dismay as a wet puddle soaked the robes around her legs. The waters had broken.
Above her, the windows of a 3 story building shattered from a wild reducto. His mind worked at high speed.
From where she was standing, the glass would land on her and pierce her back and her skull. She would die trembling in the puddle of her broken waters with an unborn baby in her belly.
He pointed his wand and cast an immobulus at the falling shards.
Time stilled.
He flicked his wand and the glass pulverized. The woman was unaware of the transpired; she was squirming and her face was contorted in excruciating pain. Draco ran toward her, ducked again to avoid a yellow jet, and when he kneeled to lift her up, he almost dropped her.
Her pale grey robe was stained in blood at the front. The woman screamed louder.
Sweat was accumulating at his forehead. He hadn't been taught how to proceed during a birth. Much less where a war was taking place.
Draco turned the woman on her back, afraid that the unborn would be crushed underneath her weight.
"Please, please..." She sobbed and chocked on her tears as a contraction racked painfully through her body. She screamed again and locked his arm in a vice grip.
Merlin, what was he to do? He couldn't apparate yet! Were there no adults that could help her?
He scanned the street with frenzied eyes. People who were running would be flung down by an invisible rope; others would fall never to rise again. The attackers were clad in standard wizard black robes with the hood drawn over their heads to conceal their identity. The witch in labour screamed loudly.
One of the terrorists turned his obscured head to the sound. A chill passed through Draco's frame when a flash of white twisted into a smile from the darkness of the hood. It was directed at their location. The tall figure advanced with quick steps while Draco gripped his wand tightly on the woman's right side, concealed from the terrorist's view.
No, no, don't look here, turn around! There are so many other things you could be noticing right now!
His body tensed when the man - judging from his height and his shoulder-to-hip ratio - stopped a few meters from him.
He winced when nails dug into his arm but he didn't dare to glance at the witch in fear the terrorist ahead would attack him.
"Do you need help, boy?" He gesticulated with his wand toward the woman in labour. "Don't fret, lad, a responsible adult is here to make everything better." The sarcastic tone and mocking gesticulation infuriated him.
"Reducto!"
"Protego!" Draco acted with trained speed. The attacker frowned, displeased by his quick reflexes.
The clad man shook his head and smiled cynically. He looked right into Draco's eyes and took a tentative step forward.
Draco prepared his body to fight. He was a Slytherin, but as a Malfoy he hadn't been trained to be a coward.
"I am giving you a chance, boy, in case you haven't noticed." The sneer widened in mocking sarcasm.
The boot pressed harder on the ground as emphasis.
Draco sneered. "I do not indulge in cowardly acts."
The man paused in his steps. Draco looked from his feet back to his mouth, the only thing he could distinguish beneath the hood. He was frowning also. "Cowardly acts?"
"Secretive attacks such as this. A fight between wizards is honourable only in official duels."
Sometimes he didn't know why he wouldn't remain silent. The mouth was indeed the root of all problems.
"Oh? Another pureblood? I was about to overlook your blood status but you give me no choice now that you've publicly announced it yourself."
He didn't buy it but this time he remained silent. The steps started again.
He lifted his knee from the ground in order to crouch. The position would allow him to react quicker.
"There's no doubt. The blond hair, the arrogant attitude - you're Lucius Malfoy's son." He spat on the ground.
"The more reason for you to be cautious of your actions."
The mouth sneered in disgust.
Draco's throat was dry from the dust in the air and from the tension he was feeling. The delivering woman had ceased to scream. He could only deduct she had fainted.
"You're hiding behind daddy now? How honourable." The last word was professed with fury. "Didn't your daddy teach you that you fight with wands, not with words? That diplomatic bullshit doesn't work in the real world, boy."
A binding spell broke wordlessly out of the tip of the man's wand and travelled at fast speed toward him.
Draco's eyes narrowed at the choice of the spell and raised another shield, expecting the collision.
His expression quickly changed into shock as the spell changed course at the last second before impacting onto his protego and hissed past his left side, behind him. He heard ropes tightening around the woman's body.
Draco couldn't grasp what he had seen... it was impossible to manipulate the direction of a spell once it had left your hand. It was just impossible, unheard of...
Sensing his confusing and disbelief, the man laughed. "Surprised? That someone is magically superior to you purebloods?" He purred.
Shaking out of his stupor, Draco lowered his shield when the woman's body was lifted off the ground to hover in the air above him. The attacker smiled wickedly.
The Slytherin feared what he found amusing.
The attacker's cackle travelled on his skin. He heard a contracting sound and observed as the magical ropes tightened around the woman's body. He cringed as they started to crush her shoulder blades.
Her brown eyes snapped open into his and he witnessed her pain through them. Her mouth opened and before she could scream, a silencio was cast. "Shut up cow, you'll give me a headache."
Draco felt as helpless as when he had witnessed Avery torture the muggles in his house.
He watched as her belly was squeezed to impossible flatness of a pregnant woman.
He watched as her eyes bulged from her sockets as the pressure increased on her head.
He watched as blood started to seep from between her legs and a head appeared, followed by the small shoulders; it all happened quickly after. The torso appeared and quickly the legs and feet were ejected with a sickening pop.
Draco had never seen a baby freshly out of the womb. It was coated in blood and secretions, the skin prune like, wrinkled and rosaceous.
"Congratulations, it's a girl!" The maniac cackled.
He watched as the umbilical cord came out and, as if it had a life of its own, wrapped around the baby's fragile neck. Draco's stomach came up to his throat at what he knew would happen.
The baby floated in the air for an instance before the spell ended and the body dropped quickly only to be stopped by the rope that hung the newly born.
The head, too big for the body spun around the rope slowly. The neck was outstretched and the thin skin was almost torn open.
Draco's head spun. Again... again he had watched as... as...
He vomited on the ground.
"Not your cup of tea, pureblood?" The man laughed. He flicked his wand and both bodies dropped on the ground with a sickening thud. The woman had been long dead.
'Why, WHY? ALWAYS, always... why...' His arms trembled and he suddenly felt just how fragile he was. How human and soft his body was. So easy to cut, to slice, to bleed, to break. Just like that, he could be dead. Why? What was he living for then? What made life worthy? He was sick of it. Of everything. Why did he have to watch all these atrocities happen? Why?
The ground was shaking beneath his fingers, or were his tears blurring his vision? His question was answered when he felt the ground tremble and the screams of pedestrians spun around his head, buildings were collapsing again, people were running again, yet...
He was still.
Everything around him was chaotic, but he felt calm in that second. He rose slowly, unbelieving as he witnessed the surrounding panic and the torturer who wasn't moving, just staring at him.
He felt a sudden wave of calm. His expression should have portrayed the same emptiness he felt. His body felt very light.
Only to come down to his knees.
Draco gasped at the pressure on his chest; he gripped his robes, trying irrationally to ease the heavy weight inside. It was a very alien feeling. He gasped as the pressure seemed to break his ribcage open and he saw the man just stand there with a preoccupied frown.
What he found odd was the speed that he saw the man's wand arm rise. It was slow, very slow. Was he intentionally trying to prolong the drama and the terror of an impending action?
He couldn't think anymore.
He gasped and coughed once. Blood stained his lips. He moaned at the pain in his chest. It was contracting now; he felt as if his lungs were pressing against each other tightly and as if his heart was dangerously dropping into his stomach.
He cried out when he understood that the pressure was now focusing in one spot, shaping itself in a circular form. It travelled down to his stomach and situated itself behind his navel.
Draco's head spun and he was dizzy and feeling sick all over again. He groaned at the feeling of something breaking past his skin. Sometimes, people were found having the oddest thoughts in extreme situations and Draco was surprised he was part of the statistic; 'is this how death feels like?'
He screamed when it burst open inside his stomach and the energy exploded from him and projected to the outside.
Coldness took over his body right after. His limbs were so cold he couldn't even feel them. He was afraid they weren't there anymore. His throat was burning whenever he inhaled. He felt so cold, so cold...