The dinner that night was (not surprisingly) more subdued, almost every
student was watching us, not eating, wanting us to make another move. We
didn't, and laughed at how the whole school found us fairies, poofters, gay
men - so entirely fascinating. Harry and I nibbled on our food, smiling
occasionally at each other and waiting for the mealtime to be over.
Finally, Dumbledore said we were free to go. Harry and I separated to go to our Common Rooms - we didn't want to be followed to our secret spot by a bunch of nosy gits.
I quickly walked down the hall to the room, listening to my feet echoing on the stone floor. I spoke the password, entered the Common Room, and was surprised to see, or rather, to not see, that it was empty. Usually the leather couches before the crackling fire were occupied by at least one person, reading a book, or even a few people, chatting about the demise of a certain Gryffindor. No whisper permeated the silence - no one was hiding, or if they were, doing a very good job of it. I frowned and headed upstairs.
I was greeted with a blinding flash of light and the worst pain I had ever felt in my life. My insides, my flesh, every part of me felt like it was on fire - like poison was spreading to my limbs. Before I could see what, or who, had hit me with what I knew was a curse, I had passed out, drifting into empty blackness, feeling as if I floated on air.
I was woken up by these words: "Hello, Draco."
Spoken by (you guessed it) Lucius.
I opened my eyes, and my sight was momentarily blurry. I recognized a figure standing over me, its long blonde hair almost brushing my pale face, and I realized, with disgust, but not much surprise, that it was Lucius who had cursed me. I knew exactly where I was - the bleak stone walls had been my prison over the summer. I shook my head to clear away to flashes of color and pain before my eyes, and sat up.
"Welcome home." Lucius said, smiling down at me, for he had stood up and now towered above me, his black robes and shadowed face making him look for the entire world like the Grim Reaper. A smile played across his mouth, but his eyes, dark grey and narrowed, gave away his true feelings. I knew what he was going to do. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted, and I knew what was behind me.
Lucius grimaced in pain momentarily, surely because of the mark in his flesh burning like when it had first been applied. I knew it tormented him, for I had sensed that the Dark Lord and his followers were behind me. I stood quickly and faced a small group of hooded figures. My spine straightened as I looked into the crimson eyes of Voldemort.
There was silence for a moment - utter, unnatural stillness, and then I reacted. Quickly plunging my hand into my robes pockets, I realized, cursing myself, that Lucius had already taken my wand. I was defenseless. I had no way to escape, and I was to become the Dark Lords plaything. I dropped to the ground as I heard one of the Death Eaters speak, asking their Dark Master what they should do to me. "The boy? How shall we deal with him?"
In a dry, slow voice, Voldemort answered: "It matters not to me. Make him feel pain. Make him feel pleasure. But afterwards, bring him to me, for I shall make him one of my own. Do with him what you will."
I knew I was doomed.
I silently screamed as the cloaked figures formed a circle around me. I watched Lucius stand to the side, his face blank, void of emotions. I heard the dry, raspy breaths of Voldemort, felt myself being struck and dragged across the floor, and I cried. Cried out to anyone, everyone, as if someone, somewhere, could hear my pain. Tears streaming down my face, in pain as I felt my clothes being torn, I prayed silently to God, to whomever or whatever deity existed, to save me. I mumbled incoherently, begging for forgiveness, crying out for Harry, pleading and screaming and sobbing all at once.
Before passing out yet again, I vaguely recognized Lucius above me, smiling that cruel smile of his, and I realized that he, again, like last summer, was going to rape me. As everyone watched, leering, I again felt that unspeakable pain, and was transported to blackness, wishing that somehow my wrists would be sliced open, and I would bleed to death on Voldemorts robes before he ever got the chance to Mark me.
I woke again to faces over me, and I was numb for a moment, completely calm, not worried about my fate, not sobbing in suffering over the numerous gashes on my back and chest, not sensing the cold air on my body and the fact that I lay, utterly bared, in the faction of the most vile creatures I could think of, both in the wizarding and Muggle worlds.
And then I heard a harsh laugh, and I was immediately conscious of the fact that in a few minutes, I would be initiated into the ranks of the Dark Lord, whether I wanted to or whether I didn't. I groaned, squeezed my eyes shut, tried to ignore the shrieks of laughter erupting around me. The bastards thought abusing me was fun; it was like a sport to them! I knew then that there was a devil, that evil was present in the form of one human (or non-human) being - Voldemort was the embodiment of everything demonic and wrathful in this world. And I silently prayed, hoping Harry would survive, though I had little hope, and as I felt myself being lifted by strong arms and carried into another dungeon, I shivered and all traces of hope leave me.
Finally, Dumbledore said we were free to go. Harry and I separated to go to our Common Rooms - we didn't want to be followed to our secret spot by a bunch of nosy gits.
I quickly walked down the hall to the room, listening to my feet echoing on the stone floor. I spoke the password, entered the Common Room, and was surprised to see, or rather, to not see, that it was empty. Usually the leather couches before the crackling fire were occupied by at least one person, reading a book, or even a few people, chatting about the demise of a certain Gryffindor. No whisper permeated the silence - no one was hiding, or if they were, doing a very good job of it. I frowned and headed upstairs.
I was greeted with a blinding flash of light and the worst pain I had ever felt in my life. My insides, my flesh, every part of me felt like it was on fire - like poison was spreading to my limbs. Before I could see what, or who, had hit me with what I knew was a curse, I had passed out, drifting into empty blackness, feeling as if I floated on air.
I was woken up by these words: "Hello, Draco."
Spoken by (you guessed it) Lucius.
I opened my eyes, and my sight was momentarily blurry. I recognized a figure standing over me, its long blonde hair almost brushing my pale face, and I realized, with disgust, but not much surprise, that it was Lucius who had cursed me. I knew exactly where I was - the bleak stone walls had been my prison over the summer. I shook my head to clear away to flashes of color and pain before my eyes, and sat up.
"Welcome home." Lucius said, smiling down at me, for he had stood up and now towered above me, his black robes and shadowed face making him look for the entire world like the Grim Reaper. A smile played across his mouth, but his eyes, dark grey and narrowed, gave away his true feelings. I knew what he was going to do. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted, and I knew what was behind me.
Lucius grimaced in pain momentarily, surely because of the mark in his flesh burning like when it had first been applied. I knew it tormented him, for I had sensed that the Dark Lord and his followers were behind me. I stood quickly and faced a small group of hooded figures. My spine straightened as I looked into the crimson eyes of Voldemort.
There was silence for a moment - utter, unnatural stillness, and then I reacted. Quickly plunging my hand into my robes pockets, I realized, cursing myself, that Lucius had already taken my wand. I was defenseless. I had no way to escape, and I was to become the Dark Lords plaything. I dropped to the ground as I heard one of the Death Eaters speak, asking their Dark Master what they should do to me. "The boy? How shall we deal with him?"
In a dry, slow voice, Voldemort answered: "It matters not to me. Make him feel pain. Make him feel pleasure. But afterwards, bring him to me, for I shall make him one of my own. Do with him what you will."
I knew I was doomed.
I silently screamed as the cloaked figures formed a circle around me. I watched Lucius stand to the side, his face blank, void of emotions. I heard the dry, raspy breaths of Voldemort, felt myself being struck and dragged across the floor, and I cried. Cried out to anyone, everyone, as if someone, somewhere, could hear my pain. Tears streaming down my face, in pain as I felt my clothes being torn, I prayed silently to God, to whomever or whatever deity existed, to save me. I mumbled incoherently, begging for forgiveness, crying out for Harry, pleading and screaming and sobbing all at once.
Before passing out yet again, I vaguely recognized Lucius above me, smiling that cruel smile of his, and I realized that he, again, like last summer, was going to rape me. As everyone watched, leering, I again felt that unspeakable pain, and was transported to blackness, wishing that somehow my wrists would be sliced open, and I would bleed to death on Voldemorts robes before he ever got the chance to Mark me.
I woke again to faces over me, and I was numb for a moment, completely calm, not worried about my fate, not sobbing in suffering over the numerous gashes on my back and chest, not sensing the cold air on my body and the fact that I lay, utterly bared, in the faction of the most vile creatures I could think of, both in the wizarding and Muggle worlds.
And then I heard a harsh laugh, and I was immediately conscious of the fact that in a few minutes, I would be initiated into the ranks of the Dark Lord, whether I wanted to or whether I didn't. I groaned, squeezed my eyes shut, tried to ignore the shrieks of laughter erupting around me. The bastards thought abusing me was fun; it was like a sport to them! I knew then that there was a devil, that evil was present in the form of one human (or non-human) being - Voldemort was the embodiment of everything demonic and wrathful in this world. And I silently prayed, hoping Harry would survive, though I had little hope, and as I felt myself being lifted by strong arms and carried into another dungeon, I shivered and all traces of hope leave me.