Thanks to Elo, Hannah, Caitlin and The Darkest Wizard for their reviews.
The pain was excruciating, tearing his body apart, consuming his soul. He had only ever been under his aunt's Cruciatus – according to her, one had to feel it to really be able to understand it – but although he wouldn't have thought it possible, the Dark Lord's was a hundred times worse. The agony raged through him for what felt like centuries, before it suddenly stopped. His whole body ached terribly. He heard distant cries; his mother, begging for his sake.
He looked up – he hadn't even realized that he had fallen to the floor. Death Eaters were cackling all around him, leaning in to glare at him, to feed upon his pain. The Dark Lord stood like a snake-like king among the crowd, Bellatrix was watching from a distance – he couldn't tell whether she actually was worried, awed or deathly furious – and his mother, closest to him, was struggling against Snape's grasp that held her back firmly.
"Severus." Voldemort's voice was cool again, as if he hadn't noticed Narcissa's pleads and desperate cries. Snape shook Draco's mother very slightly and let go of her. She sank to her knees and crawled towards her son, wrapping her arms around him.
"The plan was going well, my Lord," Snape said calmly and quietly, "but Draco couldn't do it. He was unable to finish the old man off, so I did it before the Order had any chance to get to us."
"Fine." Voldemort sounded very collected, not angry at all. He walked slowly over to Draco's shaking form. "Narcissa, get away."
His mother hesitated. Snape didn't seem prone to help them in any way now, and Bellatrix stepped towards them, grabbed her sister's arm and hauled her away.
"Draco," Voldemort murmured, " Didn't you understand when I ordered you to kill Dumbledore? Weren't you willing to obey me when you took the Mark? Did you think you could get away with this?"
He knew that he had to answer if he didn't want to bring another Cruciatus on himself; he was sure that he wouldn't be able to handle it, he couldn't take anything anymore.
"Please, my Lord," he croaked, "Please."
The Dark Lord burst into a cold, joyless, merciless laughter.
"Bella, let your sister be and come here," he drawled, "didn't you teach your nephew what he had to know? Didn't you show him how to fight his inner, disgusting weakness and be worthy enough?"
Draco managed to glance up. His aunt was watching him, seemingly frozen.
"Bella."
"Indeed, my Lord," she said.
"Well, it looks like you failed to notice how weak he truly was. Once again."
She didn't reply.
"Why don't you show your nephew how disappointed in him we all are?"
Bellatrix raised her wand.
"Crucio!"
And there it was, the awful pain again. Draco was drowning in his own cries; but then a shriek pierced through his agony, and it was over.
He glanced up again; Narcissa, maddened with terror, fury and grief, had thrown herself at her sister, seizing her by the shoulders and sending the both of them to the ground.
The Dark Lord casually sent a Cruciatus to the women struggling on the floor. It hit Narcissa in the back; she shrieked again and jumped up. Bellatrix pushed her away and stood as well, breathless.
"Enough," Voldemort said quietly. With a flick of his wand, a deep gash appeared on Narcissa's cheek; she yelped. Another flick and the woman was thrown out of the room. Obeying his cold glance, the Death Eaters hurried after her. Bellatrix was the last to exit, with a last, intense look at Draco. Then the door slammed shut, and the boy was left to his punishment, with no help to expect.