(A/N)
LMAO
This chapter is dedicated to [reviewer] Poof. I cracked up when I read your review...
I'd edit it out if I could, but it's already posted and i lost the editable copy...so sorry... :D
By the way, I realised I wrote Draco's age as 12. He's meant to be 14. Sorry! :)
.::THE MIRROR FRONT::.
Chapter 3: Shattered shards
______________________________________________
______________________________________________
The dungeons were dark. He shivered as he felt his way along the dark, shadowy corridor, nearly screaming as something cold and wet dripped on the back of his neck. He hated the dark, and shadows that created it ever since that night three months ago when he had to go into the forest with damned Wonderpants Potter and his two sidekicks fudge-packing Ron and Buck-toothed Beaver. He smirked to himself in the dark. Sure the insults were immature and not the best he could come up with...but they were familiar. Almost comforting, like an old safety blanket.
He winced as another tremor of pain rippled through his skull. It wasn't as bad as the first assault, tearing his mind apart, but it still hurt nonetheless.
"Just what exactly am I looking for?" he muttered in the dark. He frozed as he heard moaning. It was a feminine voice, about his age. He could tell, she was almost squeaking, only girls around his age could reach that pitch. She squealing stopped and instead a voice began to murmur in latin.
He listened intently. It was advanced latin, but still plain enough to be understood from someone in his year. He sneaked his way towards the source of the sound. Now she was muttering something about mirrors. His eyes widened as he realised who it was. Then they narrowed. Of course. Who else would be locked in his mother's dungeon, and still be nattering about work they received just last week? Who else was left on the train after Platform 9 3/4? Mudblood Granger, that's who.
Hermione nearly screamed when the eyeflap to her hellhole opened, and a single, slate-grey eye peered in. Instead, she stifled herself by clapping a heavily shackled arm to her mouth. The door handle began to turn, and she winced. What would become of her now? The door opened, and at that instant a cold wind swept into her cell, blowing out the candles.
A cold, mocking laugh taunted her, and she realised who it was in an instant.
"Malfoy. I should have known." She never heard footsteps, but in a second her arms were being clenched painfully, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.
"Well well well. My mummy must have brought me an early christmas present. A slave perhaps? Oh no, we've got enough house elfs to last us a lifetime or two." He knew that would get to her. Miss Goody-two shoes 'Must save the house-elfs!'. She winced in the dark, and felt her face getting hot.
"I don't Granger. Whatever shall I do?" His lips grazed her ear, not touching, but close enough she could feel his warm breath on her neck. It was a welcome change from the drafty breezes that floated around the dungeons. She gasped.
"Stop squealing like a bushpig." He slapped her. Perfect, payback for last year. She felt her face heat up in indignation even more.
"Wow, no smart retorts coming from you Granger? Mother must have broken you down incredibly fast. You must be very weak-willed." She didn't reply.
"You're no fun. Fife!" He called. A small glowing house-elf apparated.
"Bring food here. Now. Something hot, with a nice tantalising aroma. I think Miss Granger might be hungry." The glow from the house-elf before it disapparated highlighted a cruel grin on Draco's face. Hermione doubted so very much the food would be for her.
Draco winced as another tremor of pain ripped through him. This time it wasn't just his head, it was his whole body. His arm was burning, he had to stop it somehow.
Hermione watched in shock as Draco suddenly had a seizure, falling to the floor and writhing in pain. Suddenly the shadows seemed more alive with Draco gone. Suddenly she'd prefer his mocking and torture to whatever that darkness concealed.
"Malfoy! Malfoy get up!"
A match ignited, and Hermione looked up in horror.
"Chain him up next to her. I won't have a common pickpocket for a son. Especially not one that defys orders." Narcissa Malfoy's evil violet eyes glittered cruelly in the weak light. Three Death Eaters stepped forward and hitched Draco into shackles.
"Where's your father now, Draco? Nobody to hide behind?"
"He'll find me. Don't you worry, you just wander off and service the rest of the Death Eaters. That should keep you busy until tomorrow morning, I'm sure they all have needs."
Draco spoke softly, his tone menacing. His head snapped back as Narcissa hit him across the face.
"I will not tolerate sub-ordinance! Hopefully a night in the dungeons will cure you and make you realise what a life of luxury you live. Then you shall appreciate it more." Draco ignored her, instead talking to the Death Eater who was fixing his last cuff.
"How can you screw her? Wouldn't it be like fucking a bucket?" He asked conversationally.
Narcissa stepped forward, her face livid with anger, lit only by the lamps of Death Eaters behind her. But a thin, bony hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder.
"Actually boy, your mothers a pleasure, especially when she's on her hands and knees."
Draco and Hermione both looked sick to the stomach, Draco actually threw up on the hem of the nearest Death Eater's robe. There, standing in front of them, skeletal and pale was Lord Voldemort.
LMAO
This chapter is dedicated to [reviewer] Poof. I cracked up when I read your review...
I'd edit it out if I could, but it's already posted and i lost the editable copy...so sorry... :D
By the way, I realised I wrote Draco's age as 12. He's meant to be 14. Sorry! :)
.::THE MIRROR FRONT::.
Chapter 3: Shattered shards
______________________________________________
______________________________________________
The dungeons were dark. He shivered as he felt his way along the dark, shadowy corridor, nearly screaming as something cold and wet dripped on the back of his neck. He hated the dark, and shadows that created it ever since that night three months ago when he had to go into the forest with damned Wonderpants Potter and his two sidekicks fudge-packing Ron and Buck-toothed Beaver. He smirked to himself in the dark. Sure the insults were immature and not the best he could come up with...but they were familiar. Almost comforting, like an old safety blanket.
He winced as another tremor of pain rippled through his skull. It wasn't as bad as the first assault, tearing his mind apart, but it still hurt nonetheless.
"Just what exactly am I looking for?" he muttered in the dark. He frozed as he heard moaning. It was a feminine voice, about his age. He could tell, she was almost squeaking, only girls around his age could reach that pitch. She squealing stopped and instead a voice began to murmur in latin.
He listened intently. It was advanced latin, but still plain enough to be understood from someone in his year. He sneaked his way towards the source of the sound. Now she was muttering something about mirrors. His eyes widened as he realised who it was. Then they narrowed. Of course. Who else would be locked in his mother's dungeon, and still be nattering about work they received just last week? Who else was left on the train after Platform 9 3/4? Mudblood Granger, that's who.
Hermione nearly screamed when the eyeflap to her hellhole opened, and a single, slate-grey eye peered in. Instead, she stifled herself by clapping a heavily shackled arm to her mouth. The door handle began to turn, and she winced. What would become of her now? The door opened, and at that instant a cold wind swept into her cell, blowing out the candles.
A cold, mocking laugh taunted her, and she realised who it was in an instant.
"Malfoy. I should have known." She never heard footsteps, but in a second her arms were being clenched painfully, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.
"Well well well. My mummy must have brought me an early christmas present. A slave perhaps? Oh no, we've got enough house elfs to last us a lifetime or two." He knew that would get to her. Miss Goody-two shoes 'Must save the house-elfs!'. She winced in the dark, and felt her face getting hot.
"I don't Granger. Whatever shall I do?" His lips grazed her ear, not touching, but close enough she could feel his warm breath on her neck. It was a welcome change from the drafty breezes that floated around the dungeons. She gasped.
"Stop squealing like a bushpig." He slapped her. Perfect, payback for last year. She felt her face heat up in indignation even more.
"Wow, no smart retorts coming from you Granger? Mother must have broken you down incredibly fast. You must be very weak-willed." She didn't reply.
"You're no fun. Fife!" He called. A small glowing house-elf apparated.
"Bring food here. Now. Something hot, with a nice tantalising aroma. I think Miss Granger might be hungry." The glow from the house-elf before it disapparated highlighted a cruel grin on Draco's face. Hermione doubted so very much the food would be for her.
Draco winced as another tremor of pain ripped through him. This time it wasn't just his head, it was his whole body. His arm was burning, he had to stop it somehow.
Hermione watched in shock as Draco suddenly had a seizure, falling to the floor and writhing in pain. Suddenly the shadows seemed more alive with Draco gone. Suddenly she'd prefer his mocking and torture to whatever that darkness concealed.
"Malfoy! Malfoy get up!"
A match ignited, and Hermione looked up in horror.
"Chain him up next to her. I won't have a common pickpocket for a son. Especially not one that defys orders." Narcissa Malfoy's evil violet eyes glittered cruelly in the weak light. Three Death Eaters stepped forward and hitched Draco into shackles.
"Where's your father now, Draco? Nobody to hide behind?"
"He'll find me. Don't you worry, you just wander off and service the rest of the Death Eaters. That should keep you busy until tomorrow morning, I'm sure they all have needs."
Draco spoke softly, his tone menacing. His head snapped back as Narcissa hit him across the face.
"I will not tolerate sub-ordinance! Hopefully a night in the dungeons will cure you and make you realise what a life of luxury you live. Then you shall appreciate it more." Draco ignored her, instead talking to the Death Eater who was fixing his last cuff.
"How can you screw her? Wouldn't it be like fucking a bucket?" He asked conversationally.
Narcissa stepped forward, her face livid with anger, lit only by the lamps of Death Eaters behind her. But a thin, bony hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder.
"Actually boy, your mothers a pleasure, especially when she's on her hands and knees."
Draco and Hermione both looked sick to the stomach, Draco actually threw up on the hem of the nearest Death Eater's robe. There, standing in front of them, skeletal and pale was Lord Voldemort.