The Darkness that Dreams Are Made Of

Before The Shattered Glass (part 2)

Before, the glass was perfect, locked in place and clouded with a fine dust of lies. Before the shattered glass there was only light and dark. Then a pebble of truth was thrown and the glass cracked. The true pressed against the clouded glass and the weakened glass gave out. But, before the shattered glass, lies were endured in silence.

Draco pov

Draco arched slightly, biting his lip to stifle his cries as the whip fell across his back again and again in a ceaseless spectacle of pain. He tasted coppery intoned flavor of blood in his mouth as he bit through the lip and whimpered slightly.

He cringed as he heard the whip drop to the hard stone floor and the sound of hard impatient footsteps came up behind him. A hand dug into his delicate scalp pulling him upward by the roots of his hair. Crying out soundlessly he was forced around to look at the bloodlust filled eyes of the man who was to be called 'Father'.

"Draco, what did I tell you?"

Draco swallow nervously, carefully meeting his fathers eyes, "I am not to speak unless spoken to during my lessons." he replied softly, making sure his voice belied none of his fear.

"Exactly,"

Draco's head snapped back with the force of his fathers blow, when Draco failed to fall Lucius grabbed his shoulder and threw him to the ground kicking him savagely until Draco cried out involuntarily with all the pain coursing through his thin weak body, never fully recovered from the beatings administer by his father.

"Shut up you stupid, bastard of child!"

Draco ragged, torn breathing was all that replied. The scent of torn flesh and new blood rent the air, overlaying years of the pervious scents of mold, stagnant water, rotting flesh and long forgotten blood from a boy too young to keep from screaming.

Lucius pushed Draco over with the pointed toe of his boot smiling smugly as Draco ground his teeth together so hard that they sang sharply, sending shivers down the spine. Most would have cringed, Lucius Malfoy was aroused. He saw another person's pain and he loved it, he loved to cause it, to have that much power over another person.

Lucius wasn't the person who sold his grandmother for a knut, he was the one that disappeared two days before granny was found dead and came back happy as a clown and smelling of dried blood and having strange bluish white hairs caught on his stained jacket. No one asked about old relatives, because Lucius made a point not to have any.

Lucius placed his foot on Draco's chest, slowly gradually shifting all of his weight to the foot, even as he pulled a long slender blade from the lip of the boot. He ignored Draco's strangled gasps, leaning over to rest his elbow on his knee while the knife in his other hand, began tracing over the bloodied fabric cutting it like spider silk and slicing into the pale flesh below.

"I have a meeting to attend to," Lucius purred contentedly as Draco gagged and choked, clutching at his fathers foot, "Do, clean yourself up for the meeting tonight, until then, I leave you," He stood and seemed to consider for a moment before pulling his wand out of his jacket and aiming at Draco motionless torso. Draco's eyes grew wide with horror even as his breathing painfully stopped.

"Ohgodnopleasedon't" Draco whispered.

His father bared his teeth, in what might have been considered a smile; he laughed and licked his lips "Crucio."

Lucius walked out of the room without a backwards glance to his son's tortured screams.

Gasping for his breathe Draco pulled himself up using one of the many torture implements as leverage. He had first-hand experience as to what each and everyone one of the machines in this room could do, and how much physical and even metal pain they could cause.

He stumbled up the stone corridors dripping blood onto the immaculate stone floor until he reached his room. The bath was already filled when he arrived, his clothes were set out along the counter along with gauze and muggle ointment.

Sometimes Draco felt as though he could cry for joy. The house elves had cast a spell over the ointment that would relieve pain. It wouldn't heal the wounds any faster but Lucius felt that any wounds inflicted, unless they were life threatening or inflicted on the face, were to heal naturally, slowly, and painfully.

The bruises on his face were already fading even as he slowly, carefully peeled off his blood-encrusted clothes. Revealing the molted, patchwork of faded and fresh bruises, already the bruises from the days 'lesson' were beginning to show. Along with the bruises, a ribbon of gauze covered his previous wounds.

He removed the bandages, wincing as they pulled up off the soft bruised flesh. Delicately, he lowered himself into the water, biting his lip to stifle his whimpers, as the steaming water eclipsed his overly tender, sensitive skin.

He didn't bother to wash himself, he instead simply lay in the water, trying to control his irrepressible shaking, even as the clear water went to a soft yellowing pink, then a stale muted red and finally thickened, until you could not see through it and Draco was floating in a sea of blood.

After finishing his bath Draco bandaged the wounds and tenderly slipped into the light silk clothing laid out by the house elves. Pulling an enchanted comb through his hair left a fine layer of gel and a wipe with a cloth made his facial bruising disappear completely. His father would not approve the displaying of damaged goods, especially to the master.

Taking his time down as he walked down the cold stone corridors, smelling slightly of mold and echoing bitterly against the skin. Filled from top to bottom with faded wall hangings, family portraits of family long since dead and stiff antique furniture. The style displayed power, not comfort, and was not meant to.

Draco reached the grand dinning area, it was set as if for a king, as if Voldemort wasn't to these people. They stood around openly showing their faces and wore only a loose black robe to signify their allegiance. The man himself sat in a large comfortable chair, one made for a king long since dead, now occupied by the death eater's king. Lucius stood at his right hand side, looking surprisingly sedated. A cowering Wormtail stood on Voldemort's left.

Draco slipped through the crowds as if they were liquid, unnoticed by those he passed. He stepped up in front of the chair, carefully keeping his face and mind blank. He bowed gracefully to the master, tipping his head respectfully to his father and the large python at Voldemort's side.

"I am honored to attend to this meeting, my lord."

"Ah," Voldemort hissed softly, "The young dragon."

Draco tipped his head down carefully, acknowledging the statement with delicate ease.

"Well boy, you are seventeen now are you not?"

"Yes, lord."

"You shall become of age soon, then you shall join us. Your Father has said you are worthy enough to honor your name."

A quick glance at his fathers face betrayed the imbedded hate in his eyes, outwardly he appeared pleased, but looks can be deceiving. Draco's face visibly paled and he frowned slightly.

"I will not." Draco stated softly

Lucius' face was livid with fury as he stepped forward, forgetting about Voldemort and all the deatheaters surrounding him. He grabbed Draco's collar, pulling him off his feet and let his fist fly, hitting Draco's cheek with a resounding snap and letting him goes as he hit him. Draco flew, hitting the ground with a dull hollow sound that echoed around the room, now silently watching the scene before them.

Draco lay there not moving for several moments then twisted himself up until he was sitting on his knees. He fingered his jaw carefully wincing slightly before letting it fall. It hung loosely, jutting out at strange sharp angle. Dislocated and broken in several places. He couldn't move his jaw, such effort only tripled the pain, as such to speak would be pointless. He stood carefully, biting his tongue to keep from crying out.

Voldmort stood, snarling vehemently, his wand snapped into his hand and he muttered several choice words. A silver stream of power emerged, engulfing Draco, his father and the Master.

Even as the mist passed over Draco, he felt his jaw savagely snap back into place, at the same time, Lucius fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Voldemort stood at the center, his eyes narrow slits in his anger, he glanced between the two, finally releasing Lucius and addressing them both.

"I am disappointed in both of you, Lucius I would hope to think you will reconsider before ever doing something like that again, if not, a forfeit of your life."

"Yes, my lord," Lucius cowed before Voldemort.

"And you little dragon," Voldemort turned to give his full gaze to Draco, "I think you will reconsider by your eighteenth birthday, your choice made this night. You know too much, Draco, you will join us or I will personally see to your death."

Draco simply nodded, refusing to meet the eyes of the master.