A/N: some mild torture ahead! And Draco loses something very important to him.
"The limit of every pain is an even greater pain"
- Emile M. Cioran
Not going to answer, Malfoy?"
Draco kept his gaze on the wall ahead, unblinking. He pretended he didn't see the tray with the very sharp and pointy torture devices which had been used a couple of times on him already.
Malik had stopped circling him and he admitted to himself he felt a slight relief; every time the man disappeared behind him, the back of Draco's neck would prickle and the fine hairs would stand. He almost jumped out of the chair when breath ghosted the side of his cheek.
"I am not fond of torturing children, just as much as I'm not fond of repeating myself. But..." the voice disappeared from his left, this time being louder and directed to the whole room. "Being a Death eater has stripped you of your most forgiving qualities. You are no longer a child, Malfoy. You've proven it to us by killing my men and as such you will be treated as an adult."
"Funny you mention that..." the previous chatter died in the room and his voice suddenly sounded too loud for his ears. "Some would consider kidnapping and restraining as crimes too. But that doesn't really count, does it? Since it's part of the greater good and your goals."
"That is where you're wrong, Malfoy." The leader stepped in front of him, his eyes shining with pride and gesticulating as he spoke in a grandiose voice. "Our goal is not for the greater good but for the benefit of the majority... and the minority, which is you and your bigoted self-centred kind. You see, we strive for equality and peace between us wizards, be muggle-born, half-blood or even pureblood. Yet, purebloods do not appreciate the homological blend of the non-magical and the magical folk. They do not have the capacity to foresee the greatness of the junction of the two worlds; imagine what could happen when muggles, who have always managed to survive and create interesting things with their own hands, fuse with our ability to go beyond manual labour. The things we could create, the ideas we could build... Alas, your kind has permanently denied this fusion. You are the only obstacle between us and a new Era, a new World Order. So you must be eliminated."
"You will eliminate all of us, including yourselves. What you are trying to achieve has already been attempted in a different Era; it was called the Dark Ages, haven't you read history? What do you think will happen when you tell a muggle something he cannot possibly comprehend? Humans fear the unknown and they respond with violence and confusion. You think this time will be different? That you will be received with open arms? It's nothing but a catastrophic future for the Wizarding community!" Draco glared at the stoic man.
He knew his words hadn't reached him. That unnerving gaze reminded him of Dumbledore's condescending smile, treating him as someone who had no idea or notion about the current world he was living in. Dumbledore had the same vision as this man. No wonder Voldemort had made him his number one enemy.
The leader sighed. "Regrettably, you don't have the capacity to envision what we all already have. You and your pureblood kind are in many ways less evolved than we are. You breed between family, desperately clinging to the same pattern of genes, ideals, behaviour and education. The greatness of a species is based on its ability to adapt and in order to have the most chances to do so, gene diversity is needed. We, muggleborns and half-bloods are the most genetically diverse of all wizards. Your blood purity is your downfall, Malfoy. Your capacity to grasp new concepts is extremely limited, as you've shown and proven again to all of us."
Agreeing murmurs followed his speech.
"You see, it is futile for me to explain things to you because you won't understand."
"And yet ironically you base your beliefs in genetics only, forgetting about the role of the environment in character development." He tried to test the bindings but they were magical, much harder to break. Especially without a wand...
"You continue to prove me right. Now, enough with the chit-chat." The older man grabbed a tool form the tray and Draco admitted he was quite terrified of the incoming pain that when the pliers were chosen.
With each step forward, his heart pounded harder in his ribcage.
"We've started slowly, Malfoy. Now we will play like adults. I warn you that resistance is futile, as always, for we will use Veritaserum on you at the end so you would do well to speak the truth now before you get hurt too much."
Even through his panicked state, Draco could call on his bluff – if they had Veritaserum that would have been the first thing to be used. Not many wizards were able to create the potent potion or have access to it. Snape was one of the few and he doubted they had managed to recruit a Potion master as good as his teacher.
Draco wished he could arm himself with a wand and fight back but he was forced to watch and feel as the sadistic pliers descended on his hand.
"How did you manage to kill my men? What spell did you use? Where did you learn it?"
Draco kept eye contact defiant in his stare but sincere in his words. "I don't know."
The pain was excruciating. The nail was pulled upward in a slow effort and the flesh near the tip of the finger was burning as it was exposed to air and Draco already bled from his inner cheek as he bit down to muffle his cries.
"Do you know now, Malfoy?"
He had broken eye contact the second the pain had hit him. The pliers were still holding his nail apart. The next word heavily weighed him down as he replied. "No."
When he saw the frown he braced himself but he couldn't contain the yell of agony as blood surfaced beneath the nail when it was pulled and tugged in different directions in effort to remove it completely.
The agony was unbearable. He hadn't been aware how sensitive his fingers had been all this time until now. Such a small wound and yet it caused so much pain. His left thumb was on fire as if it had been washed in acid.
Another hard tug and the nail was separated from the flesh and his vision almost blacked out and he wished he could vanish into that blissful nothingness.
"Already screaming, Malfoy?" I haven't even reached the middle one yet... Tsk, tsk, these purebloods are more delicate than a flower."
Draco thought he heard someone laugh but he wasn't sure. He was trying to focus on a random point on the floor to ignore any external distraction so he could at least ease some of the pain and throbbing.
But he couldn't.
The leader hadn't given him ten seconds to recover and he was already starting on his index finger. The same sensation was much more amplified this time and Draco trashed on his spot.
"I don't know, goddamit!" I don't know – aaahh, STOP!" His fingers throbbed and bled painfully even though the leader had mercifully stopped.
Oh god, his nails... He- he wouldn't look. He wouldn't. They weren't important, it was okay. He wasn't vain that a few missing nails would make his life miserable. But the pain... he wished for it to go away. At least the pain, please...
"Hmm... what would you know...? The pureblood is being honest."
"Allow me and I will make him sing another tune."
"Now, now, Vrudel. We don't want the poor boy to pass out so soon, do we?"
The indignant grunt somehow relieved Draco. He wasn't sure that one wouldn't take things personal and cut one of his fingers – if not all – since that day he had been one of the few who had been so close to him in Diagon Alley.
"Where are the Death Eaters' headquarters?"
Draco stopped breathing. That information would not only jeopardize the dark side but also his family. He lowered his head in fake submission.
"I'm not even a fully fledged Death Eater... Do you think they would have shown me? I was only approached by one of them in my own house and given a date and that was the only contact we had."
"A date? Which and what for?" The leader inquired. From Malik's tone of voice, Draco felt that he wasn't buying his story.
"I was told it was an initiation date into the ranks." He almost bit his tongue. How lame did that sound? But he couldn't do better at the moment. It was hard to think over pain.
"You are being very compliant... yet" Draco's heart skipped a beat as the leader crouched in front of him and took his chin in his hands. Oh shit, he knew it was a lie, he knew it. "... we are aware your father is very close to the Dark Lord. So you see, Draco... my problem right now is that I very much hate lies; they're so time-wasting. The truth will always surface, so why lie in the first place and make yourself hurt?"
Draco clenched his teeth as his injured fingers were crushed by the older man's fist. He hissed in pain and almost feared his teeth would break from the pressure.
He half glared at the leader, hatred burning in him. Who were these people to do such a thing to him? Who entitled them to interrogate him and demand him to lower his head? As he glared at the leader he hadn't expected what unfolded the moment their eyes met.
"Legillimens!"
His barriers had been up before he had finished the spell. He felt the familiar harsh probe of something trying to go past his first line of defence, wanting to shatter it without mercy. Yet, it wasn't as violent or as powerful as Voldemort's attack which he would always remember. As such, it didn't debilitate him at all.
He pushed harder against the leader's mind and he expelled him immediately. Draco regained his external senses and he could see some surprised faces from the corner of his eyes and Vrudel studying him behind his leader.
"You have most advanced Oclummency. And to know you're only fifteen... Very impressive. It is a pity such talent is wasted on you, though. I wonder how much you would have progressed if you wouldn't die here."
Draco's morale went rock bottom. The suspicion he already had it, but for it to be confirmed was a harsh blow to his drive.
"I thought we could have settled this without much bloodshed but you leave me no choice."
He recognized that tone. Draco braced himself as the leader's wand turned to him.
"Cruccio!"
He screamed and trashed as much as he was allowed under restricted mobility. Hot knives were tearing his skin, others stabbing deep to the bone and it burned, it burned and it hurt. Oh god it really hurt. He took a small comfort knowing it was nowhere near Lucius' cruccio, though.
His body convulsed on the chair, his senses all attuned to the pain, the pain, PAIN, the burning and the stabbing, the cutting and the mauling, it was for too long, too long, he feared going insane
He
Was
Falling
Falling into the abyss of numbness which called so dearly to him with sweet promises of feeling nothing, nothing at all... he wouldn't feel... anything... –NO! NO, ignore it. He had seen how the Longbottoms had been after they had given up. He couldn't, he wouldn't.
Finally, finally, the curse was lifted. The relief that washed over him made his body slack without energy.
And he realized with desperation that it had been hours, not even days, since he had been brought here. He didn't think he could take this much longer.
Voldemort was sitting at the dining table with Lucius and Narcissa. And outsider might have mistaken the atmosphere as serene and comfortable, a simple brunch with a family friend. Voldemort unfolded that morning's Daily Prophet. As soon as his eyes fell on the headline, he chuckled.
Ingenuous, but controversial, child...
Lucius noticed the humour in Vodemort's expression and wondered what could have gotten his Lord's spirits so high. Narcissa also seemed discreetly interested for she stopped eating.
"My Lord?" He dared to ask.
Amused red eyes turned to his follower. "You haven't read today's news, Lucius?"
The Malfoy head grabbed his copy. He would always read it after he was done eating, with a cup of coffee. His brows furrowed at the first page.
"UNEXPECTED REVELATIONS: THE PARKINSON FAMILY DABBLED IN DARK?
A few hours ago, the Daily Prophet received a very valuable anonymous tip that Mr. Parkinson, head of the family, Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic, might have been a supporter of the Dark cause. Another tip was also sent to the Ministry office where the allegations against Mr. Parkinson were inspected. We contacted the Ministry but our attempts to clarify if these clues held any truth were refused.
The anonymous letter included proof in the form of a business receipt of a very dark item which had been banned for safety issues by the Ministry itself in 1901 – the mystical ring of Alexis. The purchase had been made in 1986.
Shortly after to verify the veracity of the receipt, the Ministry issued a secret inspection to Mr. Parkinson's house, part of the new protocol to reduce corruption in Britain, and the artefact was shockingly hidden in the basement with many other dubious materials, all of which were confiscated.
Mr. Parkinson is now going to trial this week and we will follow up on its progression."
Lucius stared at the newspaper in his hands. Who had tipped the Ministry and The Daily Prophet? His grip crumpled the edges of the paper.
"Still haven't figured it out, Lucius?" Voldemort sounded disappointed.
"... My Lord?" His Lord knew who it had been? Yet, why had he sounded amused by the situation when he had lost one of his followers to the Ministry? It meant that there was a traitor among the ranks! Parkinson wasn't a forgetful or clumsy man. He had been in a very high position... certainly his Lord should be bothered by the tremendous loss to their side?
Voldemort mock sighed.
"You would have been aware of the disapproval of the boy's marriage had you paid more attention to your surroundings, no? After all, you are his father, are you not?"
'His son? Was he speaking about Draco...?' Lucius' eyes widened. Surely, his Lord wouldn't think to blame his son for this...?
Voldemort tsked.
"You are losing your touch, Lucius."
The man lowered his eyes and blushed discreetly at the insult.
"No matter, this will work to my advantage."
Lucius didn't have enough time to ponder on the information that Draco had purposely accused one of their own and delivered him to the Light side on a silver platter. Sudden fury and embarrassment at his son's actions overtook him.
A strange owl hooted and landed on his table, big round eyes staring at Narcissa to receive the message. She removed the letter and her expression turned slightly concerned as she read the familiar cursive.
"It's from Draco's school and it's addressed to both of us."
Lucius looked uncomfortable having to disclose personal information about his family in front of his Lord but he didn't dare excuse himself from the table, not now with what his son might have done. He didn't want to appear he was hiding anything from his Lord, least he think he had been involved or even motivated his foolish son to such treachery.
His Lord looked more composed than he was at the moment and Lucius berated himself for losing his calm so easily. He also seemed less... sickly - his skin had a new shine to it which looked almost healthy even. Lately, his Lord had appeared less terrifying.
He gestured to his wife to open the letter. If he had received information from McGonagall then it was on a serious tone. Had Draco's grades plummeted?
He woke up from his musings when the Dark Lord spoke.
"What is it, Narcissa?"
Only then did he notice the tremor in his wife's fragile hands and the paling of her complexion as she turned to him with a lost expression. What had that boy done again?!
"Our son is missing."
Lucius' anger evaporated.
Voldemort watched closely as Lucius froze. He rose up from his chair, went past through where the Malfoy head inspected the letter more attentively. He looked past the man's head and scanned the cursive briefly. It explained in upfront words about the Hogsmeade trip and how Draco hadn't returned back to the meeting point where teachers had waited for him for several hours and had started searching Diagon Alley without finding any sign of him.
Voldemort didn't know much about the boy's antics at his age but he doubted the Malfoy heir would be as reckless as a Gryffindor.
Something was wrong and Narcissa's instincts seemed to understand that too.
At the same moment, one of his most devoted soldiers walked in the room and kneeled before him.
"Arise." The man – vampire – was an efficient follower and he obeyed him faithfully. He had ordered him to infiltrate and spy on this new amateur group that considered themselves righteous and claimed they worked for the goal of all wizards by wanting to merge with muggles. If Lector was here, going against his order to constantly spy on Singuigal, then he had important data. Especially when he appeared in the view of others; he was part of his occulted servants that not even Lucius was aware of.
His tone betrayed his annoyance. "Speak."
"My Lord, forgive me for not waiting" Lector's eyes had fallen onto the other occupants of the room "but Draco Malfoy is being held and tortured for information at this very minute and I could not wait much longer since I suspect he will disclose important information. Ever since his disappearance from yesterday's afternoon, he has been relentlessly pressured with questions about us. He might reveal your whereabouts, my Lord. Command me and I will obey." Lector had fallen on his knee, ready to act.
Voldemort considered. He knew the Malfoys were waiting with batted breath for an answer from their Lord. "Seems we will have to alter our plans. As inconvenient as it is, bring Lucius his son as of now. Our goals have changed. Exterminate them, we have no more use for them."
"My Lord! Thank you, I am eternally indebted!"
Voldemort watched with a sneer as Lucius dropped to his feet and kissed the hem of his robes. Narcissa was more composed although he noticed the faint evidence of water in her eyes.
Lector had vanished in the shadows to bid to his orders.
Voldemort wondered at the Singuigal's interest in the boy. Yes, he had been rather pleased to see Draco perform a successful cruccio when he had gone through his memories, yet there was something Voldemort felt he didn't know about the Malfoy heir and he very much disliked not knowing.
Voldemort materialized to his temporary quarters. Although he didn't enjoy the presence of other wizards and the constant movement in the property he was residing, he had chosen wisely to perform this experiment in Lucius' Manor. Here he had the most security, although he really didn't need any form of protection. The potion vial Severus had aided him in brewing sat on his desk near the runic parchment where complex diagrams akin to a mechanical device lay.
He also had Severus at reach in case some unexpected reaction occurred.
Voldemort clenched his jaw from the annoyance on having to rely on someone. His runic system was one of its kind and very entwined which meant if one rune failed, the other might fall down too. And he had no idea of their consequences since it had been the first time a wizard had attempted what he had.
On his back were three main functioning and two mediator inscribed runes. Out of these three main ones, the central had been the most difficult to activate and create. He had enhanced his own magic so as to kick start it and it was presently extracting small amounts from his magical core at a constant rhythm in order to maintain the spell inscribed on it.
It would allow him a slow regeneration of his muggle father's former body – which he had acquired after the ritual with Potter last year – by combining muggle DNA knowledge with magical execution.
The second rune kept the first one in check so it would not fail to extract the designated amount and go low or over the necessary quantity. After all, he needed his magic for battle and wouldn't want this to hinder his power. It would not do well for him to end up weak from his low magical reserves.
The third rune was linked to his somatic cells, which were manipulated by his spell so their genetic makeup would not continue to reproduce and generate faulty cells which gave him his physical attributes.
It would be a lengthy process of replacing the cells in his body for new ones.
If he suspected correctly, this setup had a very convenient side effect which would be constant regeneration for as long as he had his magical core. In case of injury, he had set his spells to activate an 'alarm system' where the runes' functions would increase to restore the balance to his body. In other words he had reinforced his immortality.
Now he had a few months of waiting and monitoring his own state and progress to see how well his creation would work.
"Still not going to talk?"
Draco cried out in pain for the tenth time that hour. He wasn't sure, he didn't keep track of time anymore. His robes were dirty with his own caked blood and they were torn in several places. He gritted his teeth as the third cruccio had been cast on him. This time, the one torturing him was Vrudel as his leader poised the same questions over and over again.
"Where's the location of He-who-must-not-be-named? Where's your hideout?"
Draco screamed as invisible ropes bound him to the chair to keep him in place as the pain of the Unforgivable racked through his body.
'Not anymore... stop... I can't take this any longer... Why is no one coming to help me?"
Finally, his eyelids lowered and everything around him was dark and still. Everything was quiet and peaceful. He drifted off into bliss... No more pain. That thought almost placed a smile on his face.
"Enervate."
Ice cold water ran through his whole body, shocking him awake. He whimpered in despair. How pathetic he was.
"I tried to be fair with you. But since you won't cooperate, you won't need this anymore." The leader unpocketed his wand and Draco's heart skipped a beat. "Dead people don't need their wands, after all." A pang ran through his chest when his wand was snapped in half. His eyes stayed glued to the spot where the two pieces were thrown.
His wand... But he wouldn't need it anymore. Yes, he wouldn't... The first wand was always special to any wizard. It was the most compatible with one's magic. Now it lay there, broken as if to display his failure as a wizard.
Draco's eyes were forced up as his hair was fisted and his head pulled upward. He didn't even have the strength to wince. Maybe he should just tell them where they were, most likely still at the Manor.
His mind didn't immediately register when the grip on his hair disappeared and Vrudel had stepped away from him.
The chaos that ensued after was instant.
Familiarly dark clad figures materialized and clashed with his captors.
Draco wasn't alert until he felt the binding spell release him, indicating his captor had lost focus on him. Exhausted as he was, he jumped to his feet only to stumble and fall on his knees as his unused legs gave up. A blue jet whizzed past his left ear and he didn't dare get up and risk getting hit by a spell and die stupidly as someone else's bodyguard.
Draco crawled between the fighting men and toward his broken wand on the floor. He grabbed it and tore a piece of his cloak which he used to tie the two ends together. A rush of magic travelled up his arm and slightly reinvigorated his hope. It was enough for him to determinedly conjure a cutting hex on a vital artery in the neck of one of the ordinarily dressed wizards that belonged to Singuigal. He had originally aimed for another but the unstable wand had done its job; an enemy was an enemy down.
He dodged with Quidditch speed he didn't know he still had as a well aimed spell intended to kill him.
"Do not let them escape!" At the leader's orders, the members of Singuigal fought with renewed determination. Draco tiredly moved to a corner, trying to get past them unnoticed. He limped his way across the one-room cabin, spotting the exit magically concealed on the opposite end of him. He groaned in frustration. The Death Eaters who had come to his rescue were outnumbered but they fought with an agility he hadn't seen before. Their fighting style was much more advanced than the average powerful wizard's and the Singuigal felt that on their own skin.
Draco couldn't use a bombarda to create an immediate exit else he might risk catching one of the Death Eaters in the fire.
One of the enemies collapsed on the floor three meters away from him, his body unrecognisable from the severity of the burns on his skin. Draco averted his eyes from the gruesome sight just in time to see Vrudel advance purposely toward him with rage in his eyes as he aimed his wand at him. Draco shifted his stance, ready to roll on the floor to dodge any incoming attacks, but it was hard to move between all those people in the restricted place.
A purple jet of an unknown spell travelled in a straight line toward him. Draco quickly sidestepped it only to watch shocked as the spell bounced off the wall straight into one of Vrudel's comrades.
For the few seconds he wasted on observing with sick fascination as the man's head exploded, making his stomach churn in revulsion, Vrudel's maniacal persecution had directed another one of the same spell toward him. Draco had only time to jump to his side.
It took him a few moments to register the pain. He stared wide eyed as his arm felt suddenly very hot, extremely so. Vrudel flashed a satisfied smirk at him.
There was a rapidly growing pressure from the side of his upper arm and all of it happened in less than two seconds: extreme pain overwhelmed him to his knees, blackening his vision and nausea welled up behind his throat. Part of his arm had exploded. He dared to look and regretted the action; there was a hole in his arm and he could see blood gushing out at frightening speed, muscle fibres and flesh exposed to the air.
Draco's shaking right hand aimed his broken wand to his horrible wound and prayed to Merlin it wouldn't backfire when he whispered an advanced patching spell.
He didn't have time to mentally recover before he was kicked on his face. Without any strength left, he fell on the floor, sprawled open. As he tried to lift his upper body from the floor with his healthy hand, Vrudel grabbed him by the collar of his robes and in a chocking grip he was dragged along the floor. Without caring, Vrudel had blasted a hole in the wall and walked through it while dragging him along.
Draco's conscience wavered terrifyingly, the shock of being dragged through freezing snow doing a small part of keeping him awake.
He was yanked a good distance from the cabin where chaos and fighting still happened inside and was slowly drifting to the Death Eaters' favour but Draco knew they were still too outnumbered for anyone to take notice of his distress.
Draco's collar was released and a rush of determination to survive forced him on his feet. He quickly turned around to face his captor just in time to dodge a punch to his faced but he hadn't expected the other fist to immediately follow.
He was hit square on the jaw and he felt the bone crack. His jugular was broken.
The force of the hit made him turn and fall again on his hands and knees. Vrudel grabbed his hair and pulled it hard.
"I'm going make sure your violated corpse is found by your pureblood family, right under their doorstep. Or maybe I will leave you in public view so everyone can see how filthy you really are., you fucking inbred."
Draco tried to struggle, to fight the larger man off as his tattered school robe was lifted in one swift movement. His weakness frustrated him. Even if he yelled – if he had the power to – he doubted anyone would hear him from this distance.
'No, no, no NO! This can't be happening, it can't. NO!'
"No!" His weak protest seemed to only fuel the hands unbuttoning his uniform pants to work faster. Nausea overtook him at the moment he heard the clink of a belt and the lowering of a zipper and Draco dry heaved at the mental images predicting what would follow.
"Disgusting filth! How dare you act superior to us when you're nothing but trash?!"
He was kicked on his side. He heaved again and almost thought he would pass out from the lack of oxygen. "I'll show you who has to bend to whom!"
Hands fell on his hips and tugged on his pants.
'No no NO!'
With the last ounce of adrenaline energy, Draco back kicked Vrudel and rolled to his feet, crying out at his injured arm. His vision swam for a few seconds but he shrugged it off as every fraction of it was more important than the discomfort.
He heard the grunted insult from the hunched figure. "You fucking little bitch...!"
Vrudel was on his knees and Draco did not hesitate, rage fuelled by what was about to be done to him. He conjured all his spare magic.
"Avada kedavra." He watched as the snow worked against the other wizard and slowed down his reaction time. The body was lifeless before it fell backwards on the snow, eyes wide open in disbelief. Draco stared impassively at his first kill.
It's not over.
He turned around immediately, guided by adrenaline as he felt a presence approaching from behind, wand aimed and a deadly incantation on his lips.
"Easy, easy. I was sent by the Dark Lord to return you home." Lector looked past him to the body on the ground.
Draco noticed the paleness of the other man and how he hadn't heard the man's footsteps on the snow. He stared at him more attentively. There was a dark mysterious aura about him and he recalled on the spot what he had studied. "You're a vampire. I wasn't aware the Dark Lord had an alliance with you."
"Impressive for you to reach that conclusion in a few seconds. I also see you single handled defeated the best duellist from Singuigal."
Draco frowned. He raised his wand back at this vampire in a fraction of a second, his mind processing solely on adrenaline.
"You belong with them; you've been there for the past day when I was tortured."
The vampire rose his hands up in submission, his expression serious. "I am not part of them. But yes, your observations are correct. I've been a spy for the Dark Lord. That is how we have aided you promptly , because I knew of this place when you were brought here. I have reported to the Dark Lord about your kidnapping and was sent to rescue you-"
Draco fell forward, his eyes shut closed as his body's adrenaline expired. The only thing he had been aware of was being caught and carried by the vampire.