Author A/N:
Hi to anyone reading this.
This story is inspired by the musical Bare the Pop Rock Opera. If you haven't ever heard of it, I fully recommend checking it out.
Each chapter is influenced by a song from Bare, but the characterisation switches up a bit.
This opening chapter is a bit of interpretive writing, so sorry in advance if you get super confused.
Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Bare a Pop Rock Opera
Chapter One: Epiphany
"Drop the act Draco." A voice hissed
"What?" Draco shot forward from his velvet black dining chair.
He was sat on a long table draped with fear and arrogance as death eaters took their seats. Everyone's face was hidden by spiked masks including that of the one belonging to his accuser. The voice was familiar, but yet he couldn't tell who it was.
The concealed figure removed its hood revealing cat-like pupils and slit nostrils. Voldermort.
The dark lord strode forward. He had authority over the whole room. Draco tightly blinked, hoping that he was just seeing things.
"There's a traitor among us Draco." Voldemort echoed.
Beat.
"And that traitor is you."
Hooded heads snapped to look at their traitor.
Instant panic spread from Draco's core to his toes and fingertips.
He had no time to comprehend what was happening as hands of shadows pulled his chair back and threw him onto the floor. Simultaneously, the surrounding furniture disappeared as bodies enclosed around him, allowing no room for an escape.
All Draco could see was the darkness of cloaks eloping him. The death eaters further trapped him, one stamp at a time. Forward. Forward. Forward.
Suddenly, just as he was beginning to think he was going to be flattened, a hand grabbed his platinum hair and yanked him up. What the hell.
A mask dropped on the floor.
"Impostors die alone."
Was that Crabbe? Why was he taking off his mask at a meeting?
Another mask smashed against the black marble flooring.
"Your blood is pure and you bathed in mud."
Pansy?
Knock
"No one follows the tarnished."
Goyle?
Draco's three fellow Slytherin members ascended towards him.
How did they know of Draco's shame? He hid it so well. He wore a mask of hate and gloves of despise. Everyone saw him as the Slytherin prince. Their leader. This was not the case anymore.
Three sets of hands clasped the back of Draco's neck and pulled him to his feet. Threads of silk held him down to the chair.
Whispers of traitor attacked Draco's ear.
But he didn't mean to be a traitor. He wasn't purposely conspiring against his blood pack. He tried to be the perfect pureblood. That's all he ever wanted. He urged Merlin to guide him away from being a disgrace; from having cravings of mud. Couldn't his fellow Slytherins see?
The controlled taping of a cane hitting wood alerted Draco away from his internal pleads.
"My Lord."
Every muscle in his back tensed by default.
A man with long silver hair and steeled silver eyes bowed towards the Dark Lord.
"Lucius." A hissed reply.
"If I could explain my son's weakness, my Lord?"
"Speak the truth Malfoy."
Draco tried to loosen from the chair to escape what was inevitably going to be harsh words, but it didn't work, the silk further tightened around his writs.
His father firmly stood clutching in cane in disguise.
"My Lord I tried my best to raise Draco in the purest of ways, but he was difficult. Always going against any teachings I taught him."
"Father?" Draco choked.
"For example on his eighth birthday, I brought Draco a training broom, in the hope that he would have the sense to play quidditch like any normal pureblood child. I trusted him to go outside and act like a real wizard. However, to my disgust I found him dancing around with the broom whilst the imbecile house-elves made up his little audience."
Flashbacks of this day slammed into Draco's view. He wasn't interested in the golden snitch abandoned on the floor, he just wanted to imagine he was in a ballroom showing off what he thought was talent. His small mind knew it was wrong, but he was drawn to the dance floor. Euphoria expelled out with every glide. But then a storm broke out.
"Luckily I caught him before he could further embarrass me. And let me tell you, my Lord, I didn't let this go unpunished. I tried my best to straighten him out." His father sneered.
The twitching pain still haunts Draco's body.
"Aw, what a ponce." Goyle taunted.
"No wonder you cared more about dancing than kissing at the Yule," Pansy stated as she seductively stroked her arm down towards Draco's dick. There was no response except an uncomfortable flinch. "A beautiful pureblood girl in your arms and you couldn't even act like you wanted her."
Of course, Draco didn't want Pansy. She doesn't have a personality. She hardly has ambition unless you count her endless desire for money and sex.
Lucius forced Pansy off of Draco's lap with the tip of his cane.
"I tried to be the best father to Draco, giving him so many opportunities in life, but he countlessly disappointed me. I handed him the great privilege of going to Durmstrang, to become an outstanding dark wizard. But no. That's not what the boy wanted. He sided with his Mummy to go to the muggle loving, ignorant institution of Hogwarts. He failed every test and task thrown his way."
Suddenly the silk holding Draco back released him. He rushed forward and kneeled before the Dark Lord. The death eaters created a ring around him.
"Lord, I am not worthy of your presence." Draco submissively spoke.
"You are weak my boy." Voldemort
"But you have to believe me, I am no traitor, I've tried, I've worked hard. Students are terrified of me, my Lord. I've taunted Harry Potter and each Mud blood, my lord." Draco pleaded.
"But that didn't stop your disgusting thoughts and your relationship with a Mud-blood."
Draco lost his breath. It was as clear as Trelawney's crystal ball that the death eaters knew.
"My Lord?" Draco stuttered in a confused tone.
"Not a torturing Draco." Voldemort condoned.
"I'd like to start with just a- If we could take a moment." Theodore Nott stepped forward. "If maybe we were silent, or we had spoken"
What was Theo talking about? Someone was being tortured? Surely it was him for being exposed and outed, but no one was sending a single hex his way.
"Father?" Draco moved to asked what was happening but he showed no sign of recognition and raised his wand.
"Pansy?" She also raised her wand in response.
"Crabbe?" Wand.
"Goyle?" Wand.
"Is it I, Lord? Is it I?" Draco screamed.
Suddenly the circle parted and a figure stepped forward.
The figure had dark back hair that slicked away from a soft olive-skinned face. Dark brown eyes sat above a pointed nose. Stripes of yellow and back were printed on a tie paired with a formal suit.
Justin.
"Crucio." All the death eaters wailed in Justin's direction.
"Justin!"
Chants of "Kill the mud blood" and screams of "Blood traitor" and "Queer!" filled the room, but it couldn't block out the sharp screams a young adolescent.
It felt like hours of Draco running from death eater to death eater, trying to make them stop and see sense, to punish him instead. It wasn't fair: Justin did nothing wrong. It wasn't his fault that Draco was a blood traitor and a faggot. It was his shame that was causing this to happen.
The chanting crescendoed.
Draco watched in horror as Voldemort raised his wand in the air and pointed it directly at Justin.
"AVA KAVA-"
"NO!" Draco screamed as he hit a hard surface.
His eyes flung open and he was met with the dark grey ceiling of the Slytherin boy common room.
What? Where were the death eaters, the Dark Lord, His father? Where was Justin?
The screams of his lover rang through his head, piercing every ligament of his body.
Draco let out a great sigh of relief. It was a dream. Well, a nightmare. His secret was still intact, no one knew that he was a homosexual covertly dating a Hufflepuff muggle-born. He was fine. Justin was still safe.
Further relief washed over Draco as he realised that he place a silencing charm around his bedside. Not a single roommate would have been able to hear his scream or fall out of his bed.
Draco had never had such a nightmare like that. It was almost like he was stuck in a contemporary dance that was never-ending. Irritation clasped over his heart. Why would his mind even think of that scenario? He has been so careful to keep up his act, throwing insults about and preaching blood purity.
It was clear that this nightmare's purpose was to warn Draco to keep his love unpublished.