After eating, I spent the rest of the afternoon inappropriately attacking what was left of the expensive whiskey out of frustration for my prison sentence at the manor. At nine pm I had not offended my curfew in any way; instead I was prancing around the house without any restraint.
I had bathed and changed into a tiny, silver dress that was undoubtedly more appropriate for a party scene, but it was allowing me the flexibility to move around easily in my giddy state. My hair was long and wild, flowing behind me as I ran around the rooms carelessly.
I found a large stack of extra candles in a nearby drawing room and ran back to Malfoy's bedroom in bare feet, hardly able to contain the waxy sticks in my arms. Loud smacking of my feet on the tiles accompanied by immature giggling erupted around me. When I returned I strategically placed them in all the darkest corners, lighting an unreasonable amount of wicks to raise my spirits.
Inside of the wardrobe I found several pale, periwinkle dresses and tore them down without a care in the world. After visiting the ballroom earlier, I'd found inspiration to make myself a ballet dress so that I could dance in the afternoons while Draco was gone. It was the last strand of normalcy that I could picture having in my now bleak life. After failing to find scissors anywhere, I stole a thick knife from the kitchens and sat on the cold floor of his room cutting at fabric and humming classical lullabies to myself.
It was nearing midnight, and in my drunken stupor I had succeeded in forgetting about the horrors of the situation. Several shockingly well cut pieces of fabric fanned out around my body in the center of the room. All I needed was a sewing pin and thread now, which perhaps I could request from Narcissa. It was all fun and games until the door opened and he was there, wide eyed at the scene unfolding in his personal quarters.
His mouth dropped open at the pastel fort of clothing around me. I was bent over on my knees with a monstrous gleaming knife in my small hand, and a very revealing party dress bunched up around my thighs.
He stepped in and closed the door, shaking his head in disbelief, looking instantly infuriated. I was reminded of the fact that the room was abnormally bright from the dozens of candles that threatened to burn down the entire building.
"I have to say, you continue to shock me Madeleine. If you wanted new clothing all you had to do was ask, not carve up my floor." He scowled noticeably as his eyes wandered to the donut of fabrics and I laughed ludicrously at his serious expression which reminded me of my father.
"It is a ballet dress," I quipped back argumentatively, as if that were a perfectly reasonable explanation for the mess before him.
He narrowed his expression on the desk where I had left the ungodly bottle of whiskey next to the spinning planet, and I heard him huff, "Right. I forgot how much of an alcoholic you are." His hand outstretched and the bottle flew over my head and met his fingers briefly before he moved it to a table by the doorway, as far away me as possible.
I blinked at him hardly phased by the aggressive gesture and waved the knife around like a sword, "Perhaps if you were a better 'usband I wouldn't be 'ave any drinking problems." I hiccupped in my French undertone while trying to give him an intense stare. I knew he could see the corners of my lips dancing as I tried to fight further hysterical laughing.
Having lost all patience he took swift strides across the room. Black robes rippled around his ankles with the movement. He angled down towards me to grab the knife but I leaned back on one hand and pointed the tip of the blade at his advance, suddenly breathing hard. My heart dropped several octaves as a sobering wave crashed over me.
He smirked hideously at my attempt to cut him, "You will give me that knife RIGHT. NOW. Or I will take it from you and decapitate you." He stood casting his shadow down at me, his eyes were cold and lifeless.
I wavered drunkenly, still breathing hard with the knife outstretched. My eyes glistened deplorably, "Please, do. So I don' 'ave to spend another minute with you."
His face faltered at the awful statement and I saw for a second what looked like pain there. Without thinking I brought the knife rapidly up to my skin and pressed the sharp metal across my entire throat threateningly, leaving it in place as though to slice any moment. A small trickle of blood made it's way down my neck as I stared sadly at him, my lips trembled and my eyes brimmed with tears. The mood in the room swung dangerously low just then as he realized I was being serious.
He exhaled heavily, trying to control the panic that was spreading across his face. I saw that he was breathing a lot more rapidly. His fingers twitched slowly forward as if I was a stray dog that would surely bite if he moved too quickly. "You're very drunk Madeleine, don't do anything hasty," he whispered in a shaky voice.
I leaned away from his fingers feeling resentful that he could make threats to decapitate me but I apparently couldn't do the same to myself. I had no freedom anymore.
Up until that moment I had merely meant to intimidate him. But I found myself suddenly wondering if it would be best to just take my own life while I was still inebriated enough to not think twice. Otherwise, it would be a lifetime of imprisonment to the Malfoy family. I felt a hot tear slid down my cheek, and I croaked in a tight voice, "If I have one choice left, et es dis one."
He swallowed, and I could see his jaw clenching. His eyes had changed from murderous to something softer as he focused on the knife pressed into my skin. He had slowly lowered himself to kneel on one knee in front of me, both of us surrounded by beautiful bright colored fabrics. I dug the knife in deeper with a gasp at the false sense of assurance he was giving me, and the sting of the blade caused me to wince.
He swallowed again and I watched the lump in his throat bob. He opened and closed his mouth, searching for words and blinking at me, his hand outstretched partially across the space between us. Finally he sighed seeming to gain some momentary strength, "I...know it seems like that. But you have so many choices left, I promise. Please don't do this." His piercing blue eyes were stricken with sincerity that I found difficult to trust. I choked and dropped the knife anyways, heaving in deep breaths of anguish that I had been too cowardly to finish the job. I smashed both hands against the floor and let out a huge scream, feeling more trapped than ever.
Like lighting he grabbed the blade and stashed it somewhere in his robes. I sat there on the floor rocking back and forth and crying hysterically for the second night in a row.
He let me weep for a few minutes before he tried to lift me up by my arm, his cold fingers clamping on my skin. I held myself down like a rock in a pool, curling up to make it difficult for him to tug at me. I didn't want to go to the bed, where he would force me to endure our "routine".
"I don' want it, just put me in de dungeons," I whined, grateful that my long silky hair was covering my face from his concerned gaze.
"That's really where you would you rather be?" He asked disbelievingly.
My teary face met his, "I don' want to do de routine." It was all I could mutter through the phlegm in my throat and the uncontrollable gasping my lungs were forcing me to perform.
He suddenly looked appalled at what I was hinting at, "That's obviously not happening tonight. Look at yourself." His eyes closed in impatience and I finally began to calm down at the clarification. He had kept his word so far that he would not force me to do anything, at a minimum.
He then kicked at the fabrics around me, probably checking for more possible weapons buried there. When nothing showed up but fluffy clothing he walked away from me, tugging off his robes with ease and stashing the knife in his desk with an irate expression. He sat in the leather desk chair in a dress shirt and pants and lit a cigarette. He just stared at me while puffing on it. The smell invaded the room quickly and my nose shriveled at the assault.
"You have been nothing short of hazardous since the day I met you," he rudely pointed out, and I watched as he glanced away out the window, letting small curls of grey smoke float around him. "And you haven't changed at all, especially when you drink. It's completely insane. One minute you're...laughing hysterically, and the next you have a knife to your bloody throat." His eyes looked faraway as he said it, clearly remembering other dramatic instances.
It was so unbelievable that this boy had known me in the past. I did have a penchant for giggling fits and silly behavior, for partying and socializing, for panicking and crying... I however knew nothing about him other than his physical merits and small puzzle pieces of his complex personality.
"You scare me. You remind me of my aunt sometimes," he drawled, smoke escaping his lips as he stared through the glass before him. I frowned, unsure of who his aunt was and exactly how insulting it was to be compared to her.
I pushed myself to my knees knowing that I looked mopey, "Why choose me den!"
He turned to face me with impatient, pale grey eyes. His voice dropped back down to his directorial boom, "All I ask from you is to not exercise reckless abandonment for your safety. It exhausts me." His gaze landed back on my neck with a sick frown.
It was unfair of him to ask anything of the sort from me. I was a prisoner and practically a sex slave - I would rather commit suicide than spend an eternity like that. I gave him a broken, wordless look and then made my way to his bed, feeling horrifically lost from the knife incident. I attempted to ignore the burning line across my neck by sitting with my knees high up to my chest and back against the headboard.
It was a long time before he came to the bed. I had fallen asleep drunkenly curled up with my head in my knees. The candles were all blown out when I felt his hands pulling me apart gently, and putting me under the covers like a limp doll.
He crawled in and pulled the covers up over both of us. I managed to swing my dizzy head towards him, but I wasn't able to speak through the stupor of the drunkenness. Instead I just moaned lightly in a fairy-like voice and lifted a lifeless hand to his face, grazing his cheek haphazardly. His arm was over the covers on my chest as he danced the tip of his wand along my neck while muttering an incantation to heal the broken skin.
I felt him pushing my hair back from my face and little drops of his tears hit my skin. He then turned his back to me, but I was certain I could hear him crying into his pillow softly. My eyes spun from the inebriation and I dared not open them for fear of hurling. I faded into darkness with the sounds of his sobs echoing in my head.