Author's Note: This fiction was written for the International Wizarding School Championship.
Theme : Explore characters who need dark magic to survive or as their occupation.
Main Prompt : (Character type) A Turncoat
Additional Prompts : (Song) Run Boy Run by Woodkid, (Genre) Horror
Pounded To Dust
By Drarrymadhatter
Draco sat cross-legged upon his window seat and listened to the distant squawking from the Manor's peacock flock with unease. As a child, he used to feed them and ever since, he'd always associated them with calm and happiness. However, today their calls were off-key and grating, as if sounding a warning. A sudden rapping upon his bedroom door startled him from his thoughts. He whipped his neck round to see his mother standing in the doorway, her right hand gripping the doorknob so tightly the skin on her knuckles seemed taught enough to burst open. Her face was carefully void of any emotion, the product of years of practice. A Malfoy never showed emotion, never lost control. It was the secret of their status throughout the years. Only the small beads of sweat on her forehead and her sallow pallor gave away her fear and desperation.
"Mother?" asked Draco. She usually didn't visit his room while the house was so full in case she attracted unwanted attention. His blood turned to ice when he thought of what would happen if Greyback decided to start visiting him in the same manner.
"Draco, the Dark Lord has requested your presence in the dining room." To her everlasting credit, Narcissa's voice only wavered once. Draco even marvelled at her use of the word "requested". The Dark Lord didn't request anything. He ordered, and if you had any sense of personal survival at all, you obeyed, and fast.
"I'll be right down, Mother, I'll just change into something more appropriate." He looked into her eyes steadily and gave her a small nod of reassurance. Slowly, she returned the nod, before turning and leaving the room, pulling the door closed tightly behind her.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Draco felt his entire body begin to shudder uncontrollably. His breaths were wheezing out of his chest, and there were colourful spots dancing across his vision. Thirty seconds, he told himself. I can panic for thirty seconds. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, and he allowed himself to sink into the anxiety. It was best to get some of it out of his system now. To show weakness in front of the Dark Lord was suicide. Weakness was punished brutally, and if you weren't killed outright, you soon would wish you had been.
At this thought, Draco forced himself to stand straight and lifted his chin. He forced air into his lungs in controlled, measured breaths and forced the rising panic back down, deep inside his mind. Once he felt he had control, he quickly cast a refreshing charm upon his face. Once tear-free, he summoned his Death Eater robes and stepped into them in record time, pausing only to smooth them with a pressing charm. He guessed it had been almost two minutes since his mother had left his room, and he knew the Dark Lord wouldn't appreciate being kept waiting. Feeling much like a lamb to the slaughter, he squared his shoulders and, ensuring his Malfoy mask was firmly in place, he left his room and headed downstairs towards the dining room.
The room was dimly lit, the only light provided by candelabra's spread sporadically through the cavernous room. As such, the room was heavily shrouded in shadows, somehow making the room seem more cold than it actually was. The dining table was long and rectangular with twelve ornate dining chairs placed around it, some of which were occupied. He quickly took stock of the people at the table. His Mother and Father were midway down the table, a reminder of the Dark Lord's displeasure at them both. To the right of them sat the Carrows, both of whom looked overjoyed to be there, much like spectators at the Colosseum. Opposite to them sat Greyback, who licked his lips in anticipation as he raked his eyes over Draco's body, and Wormtail, who appeared to be trying to make himself look as small as possible. Next to Wormtail sat Avery, and across from him, next to an empty seat, sat Nott - both of whom looked tired but pleased. Lastly, on either side of the Dark Lord himself, sat Severus and Bellatrix. Severus looked completely impassive, as was his habit. Bellatrix, however, wore a look of pure adoration as she leaned towards her Master and simpered.
However, Draco's eyes were drawn to the imposing figure of the Dark Lord seated at the head of the table - Father's seat, thought Draco. Nagini was coiled in front of Him on the table, hissing in contentment as the Dark Lord absently stroked along her bright scales. The movement only served to emphasise just how still He otherwise was. The paleness of His skin was almost luminous in the gloom, making His red eyes seem even more terrible than usual. His thin lips were curved into a smile that on anyone else would have looked welcoming. Instead, it sent panic scuttling down Draco's spine at the sight of it.
Remembering himself, Draco swept his right arm behind his back as he manoeuvered himself into a flawless bow, taking care to make sure his voice carried. "My Lord, I am at your service."
"Ah, young Draco, come here to me."
Draco rose from his bow and moved towards the Dark Lord, trying with all his might to keep the revulsion and fear he felt for the insane man from showing. As he drew closer, the Dark Lord indicated the empty chair in a silent command for Draco to be seated. Draco hastened to obey.
"Do you know why I have summoned you?" Draco tried his best not to squirm as the Dark Lord's voice slid over him like oil.
"No, my lord," careful to keep his eyes on the Dark Lord's face. He knew he couldn't afford to offend Him in any way.
"I received information that I feel, as your Lord, I should deal with personally. Clearly your parents have done nothing to check your behaviour." At this, He flicked His gaze towards Draco's parents, who seemed to blanch and shrink in stature at the public reprimand. Returning his attention back to Draco, the Dark Lord continued, " It would seem that young Draco, a pure-blood, and a marked member of my faithful followers, has a penchant for perversion. It would seem that, not only has he engaged in homosexual acts, but he has conducted these acts with none other than a Mudblood."
Hisses, whispered taunts, and disgusted gasps echoed around the room. He could hear Bellatrix screech in revulsion as she reached to stroke her fingers on the hem of the Dark Lord's sleeve. Draco tried to keep his face impassive, but inside he reeled from the shock of the Dark Lord discovering his secret. I've been so careful, thought Draco desperately. I haven't even seen him in weeks! The only thing Draco could do was deny it and hope his Occlumency held up. Suddenly, Voldemort raised his hand in a command for silence, which fell immediately.
The Dark Lord's smile grew wider and more sinister as Draco's face drained of what colour it had managed to hold on to. How the fuck did he find out? thought Draco, frantically rummaging in his brain for a lifeline. The Dark Lord was simply watching him, waiting for an answer, and Draco knew the longer he took to respond the worse it would be. Bile was rising in his throat and he forced it back down with a firm swallow.
"What is your response, young Draco? Am I to take your silence as confirmation of your guilt?"
"My Lord, I would never consort with a Mudblood." Draco tried to inject as much venom as possible into the word 'Mudblood', although he had already let go of those prejudices.
The Dark Lord leaned closer, as if sharing a confidence with a friend, "I see you do not deny involving yourself in homosexual acts. Is that how you've been spending your time, young Draco?"
"I am not homosexual, my Lord. I'm proud to be able to carry on the purity of my bloodline," assured Draco, hoping the confidence in his voice didn't sound as false as it felt.
The Dark Lord nodded slowly and leaned back against His chair, all the while continuing to smile at Draco.
"As I thought, young Draco. I knew the information brought to me must be mistaken. Your dedication to the purity of your line, and to me, is commendable, especially as young as you are." The Dark Lord paused for a moment, looking at Draco how a cat would look at a mouse before biting its head off. "Such dedication should be rewarded, do you not think, young Draco?"
"Yes, my Lord," replied Draco carefully, "I would be happy to welcome any blessing My Lord wishes to bestow upon me."
At that, the Dark Lord chuckled ominously and resumed stroking Nagini. "As I thought, young Draco, as I thought."
With those words, He nodded towards the Carrows, who both parroted, "Yes Master," before rushing out of the dining room.
The sound of a nearby scuffle disrupted the tense silence at the table. Draco strained his ears, trying to decipher what exactly was going on. Moments later, the door to the room opened and the Carrows entered, dragging some unfortunate soul between them. They hauled the person into the middle of the room and, conjuring an uncomfortable-looking chair, bound the person tightly to it, the ropes digging into the chest and arms painfully. There was a sack of some kind over the person's head, obscuring their identity, but from the build and the muffled whimpers coming from them, Draco could tell they were male. The Carrows made their way back to their seats, almost giddy with exhilaration, causing Draco to recoil in his chair. Clearly, they had already played with their new toy before coming back into the room. Draco forced himself to look away from the bound man towards the Dark Lord. Whatever was going to happen, there was nothing he could possibly do to stop it.
"Well, young Draco, do you happen to know who our guest is? No? To think I was so sure you would recognise him."
Puzzled, Draco looked towards the person, trying to spy an identifying feature of some kind. Whoever it was looked to be around Draco's age, so perhaps it was someone from Hogwarts. That would make sense. It wouldn't be the first time Draco was forced to watch people from school be tortured or killed.
"Oh dear, young Draco seems to be having trouble identifying our guest," drawled the Dark Lord. "Do remove the covering, Amycus."
The sack was immediately whipped from the person's head and Draco suddenly felt as if he were sinking into quicksand. He pressed his palms onto the cold wood of the table to ground himself as he forced himself to look into the face of his boyfriend, Justin Finch-Fletchly.
"Ah, I see you do recognise him, young Draco," noted the Dark Lord slyly.
"Yes, My Lord, he goes to Hogwarts," gasped Draco, desperately.
"Yes, I believe so. I have it on good authority that this boy is a Hufflepuff, a Mudblood, and your homosexual paramour. Is that not so, young Draco?"
"No, My Lord. I don't know him, I swear," affirmed Draco thickly as he desperately tried to find some way to get them both out of this.
"I'm so glad that's the case, young Draco. It would be a pity if the information brought to me had turned out to be true," threatened the Dark Lord, each word dripping with undisguised scorn. "However, you'll forgive me for wishing to be certain. It wouldn't do for such corruption to spread around my followers like a plague. Stand up, young Draco. Stand in front of your school mate and draw your wand."
Although the Dark Lord had yet to raise his voice, there was no doubt that this was a command to be obeyed immediately. Draco forced his shaking legs to bear his weight as he rose out of his chair and walked around the table to where Justin was bound. The room was eerily silent, save for Draco's harsh breaths and Justin's whimpers.
"If you really don't know him, you will have no trouble proving the fact, will you young Draco?" sneered the Dark Lord, all pretence at friendliness now gone. "Hopefully, for your sake, your Cruciatus is less feeble than the last time we had you demonstrate your loyalty."
As the reality of the situation sunk in, Draco stood rooted to the spot in front of Justin. Draco could see the terror radiating off of him, his blackened eyes darted around as if searching for someone or something to make it all stop. Draco was sweating so badly his fingers had lost all traction in their fists, causing his wand to slip and slide in his grip. Draco shook out his fingers, the sleeves of his robes flapping with the movement.
"Hmmm, it would appear that young Draco is having motivational trouble," said the Dark Lord derisively. "Well, worry not, young Draco, I am quite certain I can motivate you adequately." Slowly, He rose up out of His chair and stepped near to where Draco stood. "Let's see...if you fail to carry out my instructions in regards to our guest, I will allow Greyback access to your Mother, hmmm?"
At these words, Draco felt the air in his lungs turn to poison. He could hear his parents gasp in horror and Greyback chuckling in anticipation of Draco's failure. Closing his eyes tightly against the world, Draco wished he didn't have to do this. He didn't want any part of it at all, but the alternative was too horrible to contemplate.
Though consumed with turmoil, a heartbreaking sound managed to reach Draco's ears. Not the whispered taunts and jeers from his audience, but something precious. "Draco?" The question was charged with emotion and hope, leaving him with no option but to look at Justin.
As soon as their eyes made contact, memories crashed over him. The first time two awkward teenagers shared a kiss, clumsy and fraught with embarrassment. Draco even bit Justin's lip at one point, although he never mentioned it, even though it must have hurt. That was the start of many of Draco's firsts. The first time he had drunk the best part of a bottle of firewhisky smuggled from Hagrid's hut had been with Justin. And when he was bent over the toilet on all fours afterwards, Justin was there, rubbing his back and telling him it would all be ok. In the morning, when he woke up, Justin handed him a hangover potion and a cup of tea. Not one joke about him not being able to handle his drink.
The first time they Draco had taken notice of Justin had been at Quidditch tryouts. Draco's face softened slightly as he remembered the day he saw him waiting in the Hufflepuff stands to try out for the position of Keeper, sweat glistening on the back of his neck in the heat as he sat on his broom, waiting for the Captain's signal. So many other times ran through his mind like a Muggle flipbook. There wasn't a song or poem that could describe nor define what Justin meant to him. Now it was all about to be pounded to dust, and there was nothing that could stop it.
Draco tightened his grip on his wand and pointed it towards Justin, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make his mouth form the spell. He could feel the rising anticipation of the spectators surge like a tidal wave and knew he had run out of time. Any more delays and his mother would suffer the consequences. He wet his parched lips with his tongue and squared his shoulders.
"Draco, please…" mouthed Justin, and Draco felt his heart squeeze so tightly it hurt. He glanced quickly at those still seated at the table and knew from the looks on their faces that they had also seen the silent plea. Draco took a slow deep breath and took one step closer to Justin, who seemed to see his decision in his eyes and sagged against his bonds, his eyes filling with tears. Draco could practically taste Justin's fear with each breath he took.
"Crucio!" Draco could barely hear himself utter the curse, just as he could barely hear Justin's agonising screams as he thrashed against his ropes. There was nothing but silence and the thud of what felt like acid pumping through his body. He could taste bitter sweat as it dripped from his upper lip into his mouth. It's for Mother, it's not Justin, just some nobody, thought Draco, as he forced himself to pour every ounce of hatred and anger he felt for the Dark Fucking Lord into the curse. He pictured His hateful face until he couldn't see Justin anymore. Justin never existed.