This is my first attempt at HP fic, so please keep that in mind. Takes place in the future, and the entire thing is in Draco's POV. Much of the story will be in flashbacks, so try to keep that straight.
Rated PG13 for some strong language.
Disclaimer : The only HP things I own are a T-shirt, all four of the printed books, a reserved copy of the fifth, and TSS on VHS. I don't claim to own anything else. :)
Truth and Consequences
Chapter 1 : The Hardest Part is Waking Up
How long has it been now?
How long have I been in this cell?
The days have almost melded into one. At first, I could keep track of the days of the week, and the times of day. After the torture started, it got harder and harder to think of anything but just living. I know it's been a while now. My hair, once well groomed and cared for had grown long and neglected, half way down my back. It was in large knots and smelled. I had a beard that was long and stained with blood and vomit. Once, after a torture session I thought I felt a rat trying to make a nest in it. But that particular session had been rougher than usual. I was only conscious for a few moments before drifting off; drifting off somewhere with her.
The scene was always the same, in my mind. I walk over the top of a hill. I see her, sitting on a porch of a house I don't recognize. I begin to run to her. She hears me, and her eyes fill with tears. She gets up and runs to meet me, the tears flowing down her cheeks. When we finally meet, I swing her up into my arms and hold her as tightly as she's holding me. After what seems like years, we separate from our hold on each other long enough for our lips to meet. Our first kiss in years is almost as sweet as it was the first time. Soft yet passionate, but full of promises. She utters my name in my ear then.
"Draco... don't ever leave me again.... Draco.."
"Draco... Draco... Draco?" The voice is louder, more persistent. I realize then that I've drifted off again. I slowly open my eyes. It's Jacob, my fathers' second in command. He has a bowl in his hands and pushes it through the cell bars to me.
"Better eat this up quickly. Your father wants to see you again when he gets back." He told me.
When I was growing up, Jacob Whitling's father had been good friends with mine. Jacob and I had grown up around each other, but he was several older than me. We had never really had a lot in common, and just kind of tolerated each other. When the war had started, Jacob and his father had immediately joined my father and the Dark Lord. When Jacob's father was killed in one of the first scrimmages, Jacob had become my father's right hand man. Jacob loved to rub that fact in my face, at least twice a day. I knew it was part of the torture. I really didn't give a shit. I had made my decision long before the war. My father had just never been able to fully accept it. I thought that maybe that's why he still kept me here. I knew that part of the reason was to remind me every day of how much I had humiliated my own father.
Sometimes the torture was magic. Sometimes it was physical. It was always emotional.
Sometimes he would let Jacob take a turn. But every time it would be to just within an inch of my life. Sometimes he would cast a spell, instantly healing my wounds only to beat me again. Sometimes he would let one of the house elves into the cell to clean my wounds. Sometimes I would get no care at all. In the beginning I tried to care for the more serious wounds as best I could, cleaning them with the meager amount of water I was given. I gave up after I realized I would never be rescued. I was going to die here, in the basement of Malfoy Manor in one of the dungeons.
I took the bowl that Jacob offered me. Cold soup as usual. It looked like there were a few vegetables in it this time, not just the broth. This had been another one of the mind games I was tortured with. Sometimes my father himself would bring me a huge banquet table with all my favorite foods. Sometimes it would be a stale piece of bread.
Sometimes it was nothing.
I drank the soup down, slowly. Jacob watched me, a sneer on his face.
"Look at you now, Draco. You used to think you were so much better than me. Look who's the better one now. Stupid mudblood lover." He spit at me and laughed, walking away.
The door to the dungeons slammed shut, and once again I was alone.
Mudblood lover.
My father had taken a dagger and carved it into my back and chest one of the first weeks I was here. There was one day that he had given me a quill and parchment and forced me to write it over and over until I filled the parchment. The ink was enchanted to disappear after only a few seconds.
It was one of father's favorite things to call me now. Not that he had ever called me by any endearing terms while I was growing up. Mudblood lover. Stupid mudblood lover.
And I was.
Trying to gather some strength for the next session which was coming, I crawled into my corner and fell into a restless sleep remembering the beginning. For me and my Mudblood future.
A/N: I hope to have another chapter sometime this week. I work full time, and don't have a lot of free time, but I will do my best. Hope I didn't confuse you too much. Feel free to review. If you're gonna flame, please try to be nice. Toodles!