The ride to the school was quiet, as I had no friends to sit with. Crabbe
and Goyle had long abandoned me for some first-year tempting them with
food, and my usual number of female followers had dwindled until it
consisted of one second year, who kept gazing at me dreamily. Apparently
bruises and paleness is hot in blokes nowadays. I told her to sod off and
settled myself into the luxuriously soft red velvet of the seat.
I stared out the window as the train pulled away, watching a hundred or so parents wave joyously at their children inside the train. Some had tears in their eyes, some with grins, others looked nonchalant. I wished for someone to wave at me like that. Even the few parents who looked like they didn't care, weren't worried...at least they were there. They had probably chatted with their children on the way to the station about school and being careful. They had probably straightened up their children's collars and kissed their cheeks before entering the platform.
I didn't have that. I had no one in the world to care about me.
But I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. I am a Malfoy, after all, the most powerful wizarding family in the world. My father is one of Voldemort's most trusted and loyal followers, I have the best of the best, tonnes and tonnes of wizarding gold..and yet...
I laughed softly to myself, pulling my gaze away from the scene and burying myself into a book about Dark Magic Father had bought me. It was gruesome, describing torture methods, curses, potions for death. I recognized a few that I had seen my father perform on some Muggles.
"The 'Adflictatio' curse, though illegal, is one used widely by wizards. The curse, once directed to the victim, gives them intense feelings of being burnt alive, while in fact, producing a strong elixir that slowly disintegrates their organs. This spell works for over 10 minutes, with no outside marks. Once completed, this kills the victim. An accompanying potion that can be forced upon the drinker before the spell is performed is called 'Arsi Acies.' Literally meaning 'burn eye' it affects the drinker with an infection that burns the pupil, thus rendering the specimen blind."
I shuddered. How disgusting. Honestly, I didn't understand why anyone would get pleasure by killing someone by burning them alive. Or raping them. Or beating them, for that matter. My father, he is a sick bastard.
Thinking that, I realized that that was the first time I had laughed, or thought of something funny, all summer.
The humor quickly died however, as I pushed up my robe sleeve and felt the still-healing scars on my wrist. I could do it now, I realized, and no one would be the wiser. I could open the wounds and make it look like an accident. I could die, then and there, in the solitude of the Hogwarts school train. My blood could soak into the carpet. I wouldn't have to deal with anything anymore.
I reached into a secret pocket inside my school robes and flipped open my pocket knife. Bloody Muggle contraption, I had forgotten I had had it until I came across it while searching through my old robes. I had stolen it from a first-year a few years back. I remembered enjoying the look on his face as he threatened to curse the person who took it.
I pulled up my shirt sleeve as well as my robe and gently prodded a scar with the top of the tiny knife. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and scissored my skin with tiny wounds, starting from the crook of my elbow to the wrist. Sighing in absolute pleasure as the pain seeped out of me in the form of crimson memories.
I heard a scream. One, short scream, then silence. In the darkness of the night, it could be anyone. Father could just be punishing a house-elf, a whore, a Muggle. Father didn't need an excuse to corrupt people; his pleasure came from their cries.
I heard another scream, quieter this time, but still audible from upstairs. It sounded like a woman, a voice that I head heard many times before..
"Narcissa!" My father screamed in fury. "How dare you disobey me? How dare you defy the Dark Lord! You will die for this, you poisonous whore, and the pain you feel now is nothing compared to the pain you will feel when you are alone."
I threw my satin sheets to the side and quietly tiptoed out of bed. Edging to the door, I pressed my ear up against it as to hear more clearly. There was a gasp, a shuddering cry, and then I heard my Father kill the only other person I had in the world.
A scream of fury, then footsteps as my father retreated to his bedroom upstairs. I scampered back into bed, closed my eyes, and imagined the look on my mother's lifeless face.
"Draco?"
My eyes snapped open, the voice awakening me from my memory. They widened when I saw who it was.
What was Harry Potter, of all people, doing in my compartment?
I stared out the window as the train pulled away, watching a hundred or so parents wave joyously at their children inside the train. Some had tears in their eyes, some with grins, others looked nonchalant. I wished for someone to wave at me like that. Even the few parents who looked like they didn't care, weren't worried...at least they were there. They had probably chatted with their children on the way to the station about school and being careful. They had probably straightened up their children's collars and kissed their cheeks before entering the platform.
I didn't have that. I had no one in the world to care about me.
But I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. I am a Malfoy, after all, the most powerful wizarding family in the world. My father is one of Voldemort's most trusted and loyal followers, I have the best of the best, tonnes and tonnes of wizarding gold..and yet...
I laughed softly to myself, pulling my gaze away from the scene and burying myself into a book about Dark Magic Father had bought me. It was gruesome, describing torture methods, curses, potions for death. I recognized a few that I had seen my father perform on some Muggles.
"The 'Adflictatio' curse, though illegal, is one used widely by wizards. The curse, once directed to the victim, gives them intense feelings of being burnt alive, while in fact, producing a strong elixir that slowly disintegrates their organs. This spell works for over 10 minutes, with no outside marks. Once completed, this kills the victim. An accompanying potion that can be forced upon the drinker before the spell is performed is called 'Arsi Acies.' Literally meaning 'burn eye' it affects the drinker with an infection that burns the pupil, thus rendering the specimen blind."
I shuddered. How disgusting. Honestly, I didn't understand why anyone would get pleasure by killing someone by burning them alive. Or raping them. Or beating them, for that matter. My father, he is a sick bastard.
Thinking that, I realized that that was the first time I had laughed, or thought of something funny, all summer.
The humor quickly died however, as I pushed up my robe sleeve and felt the still-healing scars on my wrist. I could do it now, I realized, and no one would be the wiser. I could open the wounds and make it look like an accident. I could die, then and there, in the solitude of the Hogwarts school train. My blood could soak into the carpet. I wouldn't have to deal with anything anymore.
I reached into a secret pocket inside my school robes and flipped open my pocket knife. Bloody Muggle contraption, I had forgotten I had had it until I came across it while searching through my old robes. I had stolen it from a first-year a few years back. I remembered enjoying the look on his face as he threatened to curse the person who took it.
I pulled up my shirt sleeve as well as my robe and gently prodded a scar with the top of the tiny knife. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and scissored my skin with tiny wounds, starting from the crook of my elbow to the wrist. Sighing in absolute pleasure as the pain seeped out of me in the form of crimson memories.
I heard a scream. One, short scream, then silence. In the darkness of the night, it could be anyone. Father could just be punishing a house-elf, a whore, a Muggle. Father didn't need an excuse to corrupt people; his pleasure came from their cries.
I heard another scream, quieter this time, but still audible from upstairs. It sounded like a woman, a voice that I head heard many times before..
"Narcissa!" My father screamed in fury. "How dare you disobey me? How dare you defy the Dark Lord! You will die for this, you poisonous whore, and the pain you feel now is nothing compared to the pain you will feel when you are alone."
I threw my satin sheets to the side and quietly tiptoed out of bed. Edging to the door, I pressed my ear up against it as to hear more clearly. There was a gasp, a shuddering cry, and then I heard my Father kill the only other person I had in the world.
A scream of fury, then footsteps as my father retreated to his bedroom upstairs. I scampered back into bed, closed my eyes, and imagined the look on my mother's lifeless face.
"Draco?"
My eyes snapped open, the voice awakening me from my memory. They widened when I saw who it was.
What was Harry Potter, of all people, doing in my compartment?