Draco stomped out of the drawing room.
The Dark Lord hadn't been thrilled that his followers were taking down each other during raids, but was overjoyed when he heard how powerful Draco's curse against Bella had been. How Draco had singlehandedly overpowered two of the most powerful Death Eaters. He spouted on about fabulous plans and allowing Draco to be in charge of torture and some other garbage that Draco's mind hadn't even processed.
He ended up in the solarium, looking out over the gardens at the fading afternoon light. He threw himself into the chaise as horrible unwanted images played through his mind.
A bolt of green light hitting Dumbledore in the chest. Watching the man's body fall backwards from the tower for what seemed like days.
Uncle Sev shoving him out of Hogwarts with Potter chasing them, knowing in his heart he would never return, that his childhood was indeed over.
Professor Burbage tortured, killed, and fed to a fucking snake.
Katie Bell lying so pale and still against the white sheets when he sneaked into the hospital wing.
The muggle man pointing the weapon that was almost shaped like a broom at Maypenny, and the loud noise and the gaping wound spraying blood from Maypenny's chest.
Stumbling across Greyback with a muggle child no older than six, both covered in blood, realizing that not only had the monster bitten the child, but had raped him too.
Himself, being tortured by the Dark Lord for his failures.
His mother, weeping, telling him how sorry she was and how if there was any other way, she would do anything to keep him from having to take the Mark.
Faces of nameless muggles, tortured and killed in the raids.
The not so nameless faces, printed in the Daily Prophet that very morning, of Dirk Cresswell, who had been to dinner at their house before, and Ted Tonks, the uncle he had never met, killed by snatchers.
The fact that there was an old man and a boy who should be in school imprisoned in one room under his house, and a goblin locked up somewhere else.
Luna and Caelum, in the nursery upstairs, one whim of the Dark Lord from being tortured or killed at any given moment.
He wanted nothing more than to make it all go away.
"Mimsy!"
The fat elf appeared. "Yes Master Draco?"
"Bring me a bottle of firewhiskey."
She popped away and then back again, bringing him the bottle and a crystal tumbler.
He took the bottle but shoved the glass back at her. "I didn't ask for that. Go away."
She shrank away as if in fear of being struck before disapparating.
He uncorked the bottle and took three long draughts. His traitorous mind continued to play scenes from various raids. He drank another shot, and his mind hit on something useful.
One night, returning from a raid, Rowle had a muggle container filled with what looked like tiny peach colored pebbles, except they were all perfectly round, and stamped with the letters OC on one side.
"What are they?" Draco asked.
"Muggle pain pills." Rowle smirked. "Like pain potion in a solid form that you can carry easily. Rather ingenious, actually. But these have a nice little bonus. They're derived from opium. It's like eating opium, but fast, easy to carry, and less messy."
Rowle had given a handful to each of them, and several people had sampled theirs right away. Draco's share was still in a velvet pouch in his sock drawer.
He had never tried opium. He knew several of the Death Eaters had. They said it helped them forget.
He disillusioned himself and silenced his shoes, not wanting to deal with anyone in the house. He crept up the back stairs to his rooms. He peeked into the nursery to check on Luna and Caelum. Caelum was sound asleep, his little bum in the air and his dragon's head tucked under his chin. Luna was not in sight, but he could hear the water running in the bathroom.
He slipped through the open door into his bedroom. His hand was on the drawer pull when the bathroom door opened and Luna stepped out. He quickly dodged out of her path, holding his breath as she looked his direction when she passed. She continued on into the nursery, closing the connecting door behind her.
Draco retrieved the pouch, slipping it into his pocket. On second thought, he fished one pill out of the pouch, before realizing he had left the bottle of firewhiskey downstairs. He walked into the bathroom, filled a cup with a quick aquamenti so Luna wouldn't hear the water, and took the pill.
He returned to the solarium, and didn't notice anything different for several minutes. Gradually, he began to feel the weight of all the pressure, all the horrors, lifting off of him. Fuck Voldemort. Actually, they probably couldn't. Draco snickered at the thought, wondering what else the Dark Lord was missing besides his nose.
The feeling of well-being continued to grow and swell through him. It was freeing, as nothing else had freed him before, short of the feeling of being airborne on his broom, the wind in his face. He suddenly realized he couldn't remember the last time he had taken his broom out. He dashed down to the broomshed and was in the air in minutes. He flew for what seemed like hours and seconds all at the same time, as time held no meaning at the moment. He completed acrobatic maneuvers on his broom that he had been afraid to attempt before. Nothing could stop him.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, his euphoria began to melt into a peaceful warmth. He landed the broom, stowing it back in the shed, and returned to the solarium. He would just stretch out on the chaise and take a little nap before dinner. He watched the sky darken and the stars appear, one by one. Several times he opened his eyes to realize that he had been asleep, but not for long, as the night hadn't crept much further than he remembered. Nightmares didn't come, and some part of his mind knew they wouldn't. They couldn't get past the serenity this pill had given him.
The door to the solarium opened, and Bella stood there. Not even she could ruin the languid feeling he had at this moment. She smirked at him wickedly, coming to sit on the edge of the chaise. Her lips were moving, he could hear the sound of her voice, but he couldn't understand her words. He was busy staring at her lips. Then the lips moved toward him, and closed over his. His eyes drifted shut as her tongue slipped into his mouth and her hand landed on his chest and moved south.
Somewhere in the back of his mind flashed the thought that he should push her away, that he should get away from her, that he didn't want to do this with her any more, but his arms felt so heavy. His legs just wouldn't move and his eyes wanted to stay shut. He forced his eyes open as her mouth left his, but she was swimming in and out of focus.
"Bella, don't." his voice sounded strange to him, as if it came from far away.
She laughed. By that time, she was straddling him and his shirt was open and her mouth was on his chest and she was grinding her hips against his.
"But you really want me to, Draco. You like this." she taunted.
"Stop, Bella." he moaned as her lips found his collarbone, and then bit him, her tongue soothing the spot seconds later. He wasn't sure if he blacked out momentarily or she had used magic, because the thought that his toes were cold skittered across his mind a fraction of a second before he realized they were both naked.
Then she had sheathed him and she was hot and wet and nothing had ever felt this way. It had to be the muggle drug. He was floating but grounded all at once. She was riding him and his hands were grasping her hips so tightly to help that he would probably leave bruises but at the moment neither of them cared. He didn't even know how his hands got there. She bucked out of rhythm and tightened and convulsed around him. His own release hit, feeling as if it began in his fingers and toes and scalp and surged through his veins until bursting though his groin and he was panting and moaning and felt as if he had been turned inside out.
Both of his arms were wrapped around her, crushing her to his chest, silently begging her to stay, just for a while, just this once. As always, however, as soon as her breathing returned to normal, he felt her warmth leave as she got up. A flick of her wand, and they were both cleaned up and dressed.
She leaned over as he turned his head, the shame of what they had done suddenly filling him, as the effects of the drug faded away.
She kissed his cheek. "I knew you were still Auntie Bella's boy." she crowed with a laugh. He stared at the chair beside him as her heels clicked across the stone floor and the door slammed behind her.
Oh Merlin.
He was going to have to find her, to make sure she took a morning after potion so they didn't have any more Caelums. Right this second, however, he couldn't face her. He couldn't face anyone. He definitely wasn't going to the nursery any time soon. Caelum and Luna were the only good and pure things in his life and he felt so dirty even thinking of them at this moment.
He reached into the bag for another of the muggle pills, wanting nothing more than to forget the past half hour ever happened. He washed it down with a large portion of the firewhiskey. The thought that he would never be Luna's knight in shining armor, that he was just the sick Death Eater bastard who fucks his aunt, repeated in his head as the darkness pulled him under.
A/N - Just to clear up something from the last chapter, Lucius hurt Draco very deeply, and Draco was lashing out, pushing his father's buttons in return. I see the Lucius in this story as more of a canon Lucius rather than the closet family man in Going Back. Canon Lucius loves his son, but doesn't usually seem to know what to do with him, and there is a definite undercurrent of jealousy there.