Chapter Twelve: Bruised
(Draco's P.O.V.)
The gathering ended close to midnight; when it was over, Pansy and I hung out in her room. I made myself comfortable on the small couch she has against the right wall, untied my tie, and drew in a deep breath.
I looked away as she got into her pajamas, "What's up with that Neema girl?"
Not quite sure if I should look up yet, I stared down at my lap, "What do you mean?"
"Why is she here? She obviously isn't into the Dark Arts. She's an oh so noble, Gryffindor. What's she doing with Voldemort?"
My jaw clenched, I closed my eyes, and I sighed. "She didn't come here willingly."
I heard Pansy sit down across from me on her bed, so I looked up. She started to brush her shoulder length hair and said, "What do you mean?"
I looked over at her door, it's closed, and then I looked back at her. "He's raping her."
She laughed, partly in disbelief, partly because she's always had a weird feud with Neema, "What?"
I ran my hands through my hair and leaned back into her couch. While staring up at her green ceiling, I repeated myself, "She didn't come her willingly, he forced her to come, and he's raping her."
She stared at me with her mouth slightly open, "But he's so… so cute—"
"Not the first time," I snapped bitterly.
She put her brush down on her bed and leaned forward, "What?"
I looked down from her ceiling and sighed as we made eye contact. I moved my right hand in front of my face in a slightly twisting motion before saying, "He had his snake face," I put my hand back behind my head, "the first time he raped her."
Pansy slowly got off of her bed and sat down next to me on her couch. She turned her upper body to face me, "How do you know that?"
I swallowed the spit in my mouth, drew in a deep breath, and fought back my tears. "We were having a meeting, my father and Voldemort and a few others,"
Pansy nodded to show that she was following me.
"Her and her sister Drea,"
"I remember Drea, she's pretty cool."
I turned my head to the right, "Yeah, she is."
"Anyway?"
"Anyway," I swallowed my spit again, "their music was so loud, it was amazing that blood wasn't coming from their ears."
Pansy laughed at that.
"Voldemort got angry and made us go over to investigate why the music was so loud. Neema and Drea were dancing, and Neema was wearing these, I don't know, these clothes that fit her really well, you know?"
Pansy nodded; with a small hint of jealousy, she said, "Sure, I guess."
"And Voldemort immediately thought that she was the hottest thing he's ever seen, you could see it in his face. It was sickening, how he was looking at her. I, I don't know how to describe the evil, vile things his face expressed…" I sighed.
Pansy started at me with interest, she wanted to hear the rest.
"He came up behind her and told her he liked her dancing, or something. She was obviously scared, he made her dance in front of everyone. You know how clean cut she is, too,"
Pansy nodded.
"Well, she had to get high to calm down. Drea got her high and then rushed out of the room, you could hear her puke as the doors swung shut."
Pansy cringed the slightest bit.
I gulped before continuing, "He made her dance to sexy songs, and then he made her straddle him and he kissed her, with his evil, snake, red eyes looking into her, forcing her to do horrible things. He raped her in front of us, he was even laughing as she cried." I stifled back a small cry, "She looked to me for help, but there wasn't anything I could do. So when he fucked her against the wall—"
"Against the wall?"
"Yeah."
"…Wow." She didn't say it with anything besides curiosity and disgust.
"Anyway, when he fucked her against the wall, she looked at me, so I took my shirt off and thrusted into the air. It was all I could do for her, I…she needed someone, anyone to help her, and we all just watched. I couldn't live with myself if she forever remembered orgasming because of Voldemort, so I helped her pretend it was me fucking her."
Pansy squeezed my right shoulder as some tears started to form in my eyes, "You did all that you could. What happened to her wasn't your fault."
"Thanks… And I know." I wiped my tears away, "As if that wasn't bad enough," I let out a pained, nervous laugh, "he made Lestrange rape her, too. Her dad's best friend of like… I don't know, since their Hogwarts years."
Pansy cringed.
I stayed silent for a few minutes, "He made her own father make him his youth potion, and he tried to rape her in his own den."
"Oh God! That's… Not surprising, but still sick."
We laughed at her statement. "He probably would have raped her again, but she called for her dad just in time. He tried to do it in front of Nasier, but she ended up punching his nads."
Pansy laughed at my last sentence.
"He screamed at her and told her to leave, but she collapsed and started sobbing, so I picked her up and took her to her room." I felt my Dark Mark throb a bit. I looked down at it and scrunched up my face.
"What's wrong?" Pansy looked at my Dark Mark, "Why's it doing that?"
"I don't know, but be quiet for a minute."
"What?"
"Just be quiet for a minute."
She was quiet, but she wasn't happy. She folded her arms across her chest as I strained my ears. At first, the noise was faint, but the more I focused on it, the louder it became. I gulped and looked at Pansy.
"What?"
I pointed down to my Dark Mark, "This throbs," then I pointed up to the room directly above hers, "When he does."
She scrunched her face up from disgust and confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Listen," I poked my finger up in the air a few times. I could see her emptying her mind of all her thoughts and do her best to listen to what she thinks is silence. After almost a minute, she looked at me,
"Are… are they having sex?"
I bit my tongue; "He's raping her, right now."
Pansy sneered and chuckled once, "Sounds like she's enjoying herself."
I shot up off of the couch and pointed to my Dark Mark. "If she doesn't moan he hurts her! He physically brings her pain if she doesn't moan for him! He slaps her around if she forces herself to be quiet!"
Pansy leaned away from me and raised her right eyebrow, "Forces herself to be quiet?"
"Argh!" I shouted and started to pace back and forth, "He touches her where she likes, but she doesn't like to be touched by him, okay?"
"Okay, okay."
I sat down across from her on her bed. I pointed to my Dark Mark again, "You know her dad is a Death Eater, too?"
"Yeah,"
With a weak voice, I said, "His is probably throbbing, too."
There was a moment of silence before Pansy said, "Oh…God, that's so… That poor man."
I nodded in agreement, "If his is throbbing too, he's probably figured out what's happening to Neema."
We sat in silence; Pansy never liked Neema, and Neema never liked Pansy. Before this summer, Pansy liked to talk a lot of shit about Neema behind her back, especially when she started to lose a lot of weight, and I would go with it. Neema and I were friends when we were young, but over the years, we grew apart and grew into different people. Pansy and I have always been very close friends, we even went to the Yule Ball together. It always felt like we should be more than friends, but we never really felt it. We tried to force the feelings, but it never came; our relationship strong and close, but not romantic. Sure, we found each other attractive; Pansy wasn't pretty on the first look. If you only looked at her once you would think her plain, but if you kept looking at her, you would see that she is pretty. She wasn't gorgeous, she didn't make heads turn, but her face was pretty, and she could clean up very well.
For example, tonight she looked really good. She wore a green dress that emphasized her small breasts, and the low cut of her dress actually brought a lot of focus to her strong jaw line, as well. Her straight hair was down, but she styled it to frame her face. She even wore some make-up, she didn't wear a lot, but it still looked nice. The only thing that made her slightly unattractive was here anger and jealousy for Neema. Pansy didn't like to be near her in class, she obviously wasn't thrilled to hear that Neema will be staying in her home. On top of that, she can't even deny that Neema is beautiful. Neema always had a pretty face, but when she got in shape, my God. She often turned heads at Hogwarts; even us Slytherin boys, who hated her, would look at her. Of course we had beautiful girls in the Slytherin House, but there was just something about the forbidden that attracted us. We're Slytherin's for Pete's sake! We're practically taught that the forbidden is ours to take, but there were things we shouldn't even look at, and one of those things is a beautiful Gryffindor girl.
When we talked about her, though, we spoke of how much of a failure she must be. How could the daughter of a very skilled, very successful wizard, and a Death Eater, be in Gryffindor, and like it? Her brother, Gaston, was in Ravenclaw, but that's no surprise, because their mother was a Ravenclaw, too. Just like their father, Drea was sorted into Slytherin, where Gryffindor came from, no one really knew. There were very few Gryffindors in their family tree; most of them were from many, many years ago.
All through the gathering, the men and their sons looked at Neema. Partly because Voldemort was holding her tightly to his side, partly because they've never seen her before, and of course, because the dress she was wearing made her look like some sort of purple Goddess. Her curves were extremely emphasized by the dress she was wearing, her heels made her legs look even better, her make-up was fantastic, and her hair looked great. There was no denying that she was beautiful, and there was no way to deny that she was scared to the very marrow of her bones. Voldemort held her tightly to his side; he was very possessive with her, she couldn't go anywhere without him holding on to her. When other men looked at her for a second too long, he would kiss her and hold her face in place for him.
My thoughts were interrupted as the squeaking of the bed grew significantly louder. It wasn't hard to hear his heartless groans, or her fear filled moans. I felt nauseous, and Pansy shuddered, whether that was out of jealousy, disgust, or sympathy for Neema, I didn't know. Pansy always liked the Dark Arts, and now that Voldemort had his youthful, handsome appearance back, she was even more jealous of Neema. Pansy's attracted to power, and who's more powerful in her life than Voldemort? Plus, she's been checking him out non-stop. She practically drooled over his new physique; I'm not gay, but I can admit that the youthful Voldemort is very handsome. Even his hair is handsome, if that's possible. His eyes are dark, the same shade as his hair, his eyebrows are perfect, he has long lashes and thin lips. He has a strong and masculine jaw line, and the build of the ideal protector; tall, broad shoulders, etc… He is the man that woman would kill each other over; women stared at him everywhere he went. Albania, Germany, or any other country that offered him new Death Eaters and more power, the women there would drool at his feet.
Of course Pansy wanted to be his woman. She hated that Neema was the one glued to his side, doing everything she wanted to do when it came to Voldemort. The only type of involvement she wanted with the Dark Arts was when she was with the young members of the Order of Phoenix; she joined Dumbledore's Army last year, and she's been studying a lot to become a lawyer of sorts; she believes that the best way to change lives is to go through the way our magical world is ran. Her back up plan was to become an auror; if she couldn't bring them to justice, then she'd capture them. When she ranted about how life is now, she'd rant about how many human rights are being broken, about how no one deserves this fear and misery, and that those who cause it should be brought to justice. She never said punished, she always said, "brought to justice."
My Dark Mark tensed, and then felt like it was going to explode out of my arm as I heard her scream and the bed stop squeaking. I swallowed my spit in an attempt not to puke, then I looked over at Pansy and stood up. "I have to go to bed. I'm exhausted."
"That's good," she got up and stretched, "I have to go to bed because I'm disgusted."
We laughed for a minute before I gave her a friendly hug goodnight.
I waited by her door until she got into bed, then I turned off her light, walked out of her room, and softly closed the door behind me. I ran my hands up my neck and into my hair while I walked across the hall to the room I'm staying in while I'm here. I relieved myself and then washed my face and brushed my teeth, but I still felt sick. I drew in a few deep breaths, but that didn't really help much. So I just gave up on trying to make myself feel physically better and stripped down to my boxers. I put my wand down on the nightstand to the left of my bed; I was going to situate myself in the bed, but then I saw a curious, black object. When I approached it, I realized that it was a small speaker. I fiddled with it for a few minutes before I figured out how to work the speaker. I turned it on and let it read my mood and play a song. At first, I walked to my bed in silence, but just before I was going to lie down, there was a light knock at my door.
I sighed and lazily walked over, when I opened it, I found a very disheveled and distressed Neema leaning against the wall next to the door. I quickly opened the door wider and told her to come in. As I closed the door, a muggle song that I didn't recognize started to play. "I'm looking for a sign, my sprits faded, she holds on like a vine…"
"Ne—Neema! What's wrong?"
She immediately broke down; I caught her just in time. I held her tightly and let her cry on my chest. I gently picked her up and seated us on my bed. I moved her frizzed, messy hair out of her face and looked down at her.
"I keep waiting for my breath to come back, never, so take what I have left…"
After she caught her breath, she told me in a cracked voice, "He…I…"
I held her with my right arm and stroked her hair with my left hand, "Take your time. It's okay."
She sniffled, "He was mocking me afterwards, he asked me all sorts of stupid questions and he was laughing at my answers. I… I thought it'd be okay to laugh, too. God knows I need a laugh." She cuddled into my chest, "He asked me how it was."
I cringed.
She sniffled again, "And I joked around, saying that it could have been better… and… and he just snapped." She started to sob into my chest again.
"That pulls just like my heart, race in the dark, in time to catch you. No one should let you go wandering off into the night; you're not an orphan."
"And he got up and started to slap me around, and hit me." I looked down at her again, only now I noticed her bruises. It's not that they weren't apparent when she walked in, but they're starting to darken now. She had them all over her face, she probably had them all over her body, but she was wearing a large, baggy red shirt.
"Right there to catch you, I won't forget you. Now you're wandering to the night, but you're no orphan."
She gulped and rested her body against my chest, "He screamed at me to get out, he didn't care where I slept or if I slept at all… So I thought I'd come down here."
I slowly rocked us forwards and backwards and whispered, "Do you want to take a shower?"
She sniffled again, "Yes, but it's hard for me to stand…. It was a miracle that I could walk to your room."
I was about to ask why, but judging by the loudness of the beds creaks, and the fact that she's all beaten and bruised up, I figured her body was past sore; it probably felt broken. "Well… You don't have to say yes if you're not comfortable with this," I drew in a deep breath, "but I could wash you."
She cringed; obviously she doesn't want anyone touching her. She was just raped, again, and then she was beaten. I'm sure all she wants to do is cry, but I think that she'd love to get his smells off of her body. She softly sighed against my chest, "I'd appreciate that Draco, but—."
"I won't tell anyone about it, I won't touch you inappropriately, I just think that you'd feel a lot better if you could… If you could get his stench off of you."
"I never thought the day would come, they tell me that you've finally run. I guess you always said you would someday."
Her silent tears freely ran down her cheeks, "I would feel better."
I picked her up and walked into the bathroom; "Do you want me to stay in my boxers?"
Neema drew in a deep breath, "I don't care. Whatever you want."
I sat her down on the countertop by the sink, "I'm taking them off, but—"
She cut me off, "You don't have to explain yourself," she looked up into my eyes, "I trust you."
I smiled weakly and dropped my boxers. She looked down at my penis; her eyes widened, and she tilted her head a little bit to the right while a small smile of approval crept onto her face. I fought off a smirk and looked back into her eyes. We made awkward eye contact for a second before she looked away and took off her baggy shirt. A small gasp left my lips as I saw that her whole upper body is bruised and had numerous scratches. I walked over to the nightstand, grabbed my wand, and walked back into the bathroom. I pointed my wand at the shower and transfigured the empty shelves into railings. I pointed my wand at Neema, but before she could ask what I was doing, I preformed a cleansing spell on her. Her hips wiggled a bit; that bastard came in her, and then beat her, and then tossed her out like garbage.
I gulped and then put my wand down near Neema, and then picked her up. I magically turned the shower to a little past warm, and told Neema to try to keep herself up by holding onto the railings.
"Okay," she gripped the railings; her arms are still strong, it's just her legs that are failing her. I grabbed some soap while the water gently rained down on her beautiful, but broken form. I started at her neck, and then I rubbed the soap in circles on her shoulders, her arms, her back, and then her chest. She giggled; I must have tickled her when I ran the soap over her sides. She stared into my eyes while I gently ran my hands over her in order to rinse the soap off of her body. I drew in a deep breath as I started to run the soap in circles on her lower body. Her body tensed as I started at her hips, then moved onto her outer legs. I ran the soap up her inner legs and backside as fast as I could; neither of us were comfortable with this, but it needed to be done. I put the soap back in the in-wall soap tray, rinsed my hands, and then quickly rinsed her body. Just as I went to turn the water off, Neema softly whispered,
"Draco?"
I looked into her eyes, "Yes?"
"Uhm…" She nervously bit her bottom lip, "Could, err, will you hold me up so I can wash my hair?"
"Sure…" I put my hands under her arms as I would to pick up a baby. She grabbed a shampoo that was on a very close shelf, squirted some shampoo onto the palm of her right hand, put the bottle back, and then rolled her palms together. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and then started to wash her hair. After she thoroughly lathered her hair, she ran her fingers through it a few times, and then rinsed. She rinsed her hands and then tried to grab a conditioner, but she couldn't quite reach it, so I mumbled a spell so that the railings would go back to being shelves. I lifted her about six inches off of the ground, and then brought her closer to the conditioner.
She looked into my eyes for a few seconds, "Thanks."
I swallowed the spit in my mouth, "You're welcome." After she squirted the necessary amount of conditioner for her hair, she put it down and I put her back under the water and on the ground. She took her time applying and rinsing the conditioner from her hair. When she was done, she rinsed her hands and magically turned off the water. I carried her out of the shower and sat her back down onto the counter top. I grabbed my wand, pointed it at her, and magically dried her, then I did the same thing to myself.
I softly said, "Wait here,"
As I started to walk away, she laughed. "Where am I going to go?"
I chuckled and looked at her over my right shoulder, "I suppose you could try to apperate."
She playfully rolled her eyes, "If I was capable of such an action, surely I would have done it long ago."
I shrugged my shoulders while grabbing a pair of boxers for me, and a shirt and boxers for her. "That's hardly the point." I turned off the stereo, put on my boxers, and walked back over to her. She lifted her arms up to allow me to put the shirt on her. It fit me well, but it was pretty loose on her. I picked up the boxers from where I placed them on the counter, squatted down a little bit, and slipped them on her. When I got to her thighs, she lifted her hips long enough to slip them the rest of the way on.
She smiled up at me, "Thank you."
I weakly smiled back, "You're welcome." I pulled her into my chest, but quickly changed my handling of her into bridal style. She leaned into my chest until I slowly and gently put her down on the left side of the bed. I went back into the bathroom to grab my wand, as I put it down on the nightstand I saw that she had already pulled the covers up to her chest. I couldn't help but to smile as I laid down under the covers. I magically turned off the lights and made myself comfortable on my side, staring at her in the dark. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, I asked her, "Do you want me to hug you?"
She didn't say anything for the longest thirty seconds of my life. I gulped and was about to take back my statement, but I felt a light change of weight in the bed, and realized that she was scooting closer to me. She didn't stop until she was snuggled into my chest; I wrapped my left arm around her waist and placed my hand on the small of her back while she lightly pressed her hands against my chest nuzzled her face into the crook of my neck.
She was still asleep when I woke up at eight, so I didn't move until she woke up at nine. When she woke up, she cutely yawned and stretched her body against mine. I lightly stroked her back and whispered, "Do you want to go get some breakfast?"
"Mhm," she drew in a deep breath, "but I want to go to the bathroom first."
Before I could get up, she gently pushed herself away from me and slowly got out of bed. She stood up for a moment and took a small step away from the bed. Smiling, she looked into my eyes, "My body's sore, but it feels a lot better."
I sat up, stretched my arms, and yawned. "That's good."
She nodded her head up and down and went to my bathroom. A few minutes later, she came out of the bathroom with a sloppy side ponytail. I asked her to wait for me as I went to the bathroom; when I got out, I saw that she was wearing a pair of my socks. She looked at me and rushed out, "I'll take them off, if you want. I'm just cold."
I shrugged my shoulders, "S'okay, I don't mind."
She smiled and met me at the door of the room. We quietly walked down stairs to the first floor; only a few inches separated us. We quietly entered the kitchen and searched the fridge for some food. There was a lot of food, but most of it wasn't breakfast food. When we finally did find something to eat, we quietly sat down next to each other at a small, near by table. We ate in silence, occasionally looking at each other. Her bruises have darkened over night; they're deep purples now, and they're more apparent then ever. I cringed and looked down at my food.
When we were halfway through our breakfast, Mr. Parkinson and Voldemort came in. Neema instantly tensed, her breathing became faster, and her feet tapped the air bellow them. I slowly scooted closer to her; Voldemort saw my small attempt at protection and laughed. He looked over at her and said, "Oh, Neema, sweetie,"
She drew in a deep, angry breath.
"Why didn't you wear any make-up this morning, or get dressed? I left an outfit on the bed for you."
She gulped angrily, "Draco's clothes are comfortable," if she gripped her fork any harder, it'd probably break in two, "and I thought you did a pretty good job at coloring my face."
Voldemort's anger instantly shot into the sky. He angrily walked towards her with Mr. Parkinson snickering the whole time. Neema ignored Voldemort for a minute to make eye contact with Mr. Parkinson. She stood up, waved her fork at him, and said,
"You wouldn't dare laugh if my father was here!"
Voldemort laughed, "Because he protects you so well."
Neema ignored him, but started to shake; I couldn't tell if it was out of fear or anger. "And you definitely wouldn't be laughing if this was happening to Pansy instead of me!"
Voldemort stood at the other side of the table and cruelly stared at her with a twisted smile.
Mr. Parkinson was silent, but it was obvious that he was angry. A sixteen-year-old girl just made him feel pathetic, of course he's annoyed.
With a very cold, demanding voice, Voldemort told her, "Come here,"
She locked gazes with him, "No."
His jaw tensed, "Come here," his eyes flashed over to me, but before he could say anything else, Neema rolled her eyes and slowly made her way around the table. Once she was close, he grabbed her by the throat and pressed her against the wall behind him.
She put her left hand on his and tried to loosen his fingers, but it was useless, he's much stronger than her. She rasped out, "The only type of person who would threaten," she drew in the deepest breath possible, "a loved one of their actual victim," she breathed in again. After a moment of breathing, she loudly spat out, "is a coward!"
Voldemort used his right hand to slap her across the face. Just as his hand made contact with the left side of her face, her right hand sprung from her side; she stabbed him in the bicep with her fork. He screamed from surprise and pain, causing him to let go of her. The stab was shallow, but the fork is pretty damn sharp. She acted as fast as her chance arrived. She started to slap and punch at a surprised, angry, and injured Voldemort.
A/N: Please review! I put a lot of time into this chapter, and I would truly appreciate hearing from you/reading what you think.
A/N: I've decided to start the story I was talking about in an authors note in chapter eleven. I'm naming it, "Holiday From Real" and the first chapter should be up within twenty-four hours. Please give it a look once I have it up; I'll appreciate all story hits/views and reviews. Thank you. :)
