AN: Second to last part. This returns to an earlier point in time. Thank
you to all those who have read and reviewed, you are what makes writing
worth the while. The last part will not be long in coming.
Warnings: Bit nasty, this chapter, the certificate goes up.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.
Part 5 will be put online in a couple of days or so.
Part Four
Draco does not want the school year to end. He counts down the days with an ever-increasing dread, knowing that he cannot stem the flow of time but wishing wholeheartedly that he could find some way to do it. Nobody understands his melancholy as the summer months approach, and he can tell nobody the reason why. Draco is young, but foolishness was left behind a long time ago.
He works hard, harder than anyone else in Slytherin House, hoping and hoping that he will do well in the exams this year. He knows that to beat Hermione Granger is impossible. But Draco is used to second best, and he knows that that is all he can hope for.
But no matter how hard he studies, no answer of how to stop the summer holidays from approaching surfaces, but by the time he has packed and is sitting on the train, he no longer cares. He has resigned himself to his fate, and will see it through with dignity.
Arriving at the manor, he finds it deserted. Nobody has come to welcome him home. Draco is glad, although he reminds himself he shouldn't be, and walks quickly to his room. It has not changed, although the dust has not been allowed to settle – marks of the many house-elves the manor uses. His books, the ones he is not allowed at Hogwarts, lie in rows across from his bed, and he quickly gets one out, and thumbs through it.
"Draco...." A voice purrs. Draco jumps. He had not notice Lucius enter his room.
Lucius looks beautiful, as always, and walks gracefully to the foot of Draco's bed, holding his gaze. Draco looks upon his son, just entering the first stages of puberty at the tender age of fourteen. Draco is a late starter, but that is a hereditary trait of the Malfoy family. Lucius likes it – it proves the Malfoy's do not need to prove themselves to anyone.
He does not regret sending Draco away. Draco needs to change, and as he can see from the light still shining in Draco's eyes as he looks at him, he knows that Draco must go away again. Draco's emotions are too fresh, too raw, and it is too dangerous for Draco to have those qualities, else he will be taken advantage of.
So back to MacNair he must go. Lucius does not hesitate.
"You leave tomorrow, my son." Draco bows his head, the light gone. He tries to feel nothing. This is the point of the exercise. No emotion, no subjection, just cold and ruthless, just like Lucius.
"I will pack my things," Draco mumbles, and raises his head. But Lucius has already left.
The next morning he dresses slowly, delaying the inevitable, but the hour soon comes and he walks to his father's study. MacNair is waiting for him, a smile on his face as soon as Draco walks through the door. Draco's eyes do not meet his, for he knows the penalty for such a crime.
Lucius thanks MacNair, and looks at his son, before sighing. He will check on Draco's progress within a week. It is more than some fathers do, he knows that.
MacNair's home isn't a manor, it is made of cold grey stone, and it smells damp, but it is warm and lit with magical fires, and animal heads line the walls. Draco only sees the upstairs of the house as they arrive. He will spend the entirety of the summer beneath the house.
He is locked into a room, which contains nothing in it besides a bed, a basin and a bucket. There he is left. There is no light, and Draco's eyes soon accustom to the eerie yet familiar shapes in the room. It is silent. Draco closes his eyes and sleeps, knowing that if he does not he could regret it later. Last time he was deprived of sleep for four days, before collapsing from sheer exhaustion. He has no idea of what will come this time.
He is left in this room for two days. Water appears, but no food, but Draco hardly notices. He has never been one for eating, and he finds no pleasure in it. If it were not for the fact he would die if he did not, Draco would never touch food. He cannot remember who put the idea into his head that food was dirty. He decides he does not care.
Then he is taken out, and his eyes sting and burn with the light. He is given a meal to eat, and MacNair watches, and once they are done, MacNair gets out a book.
"If you were told you had to, would you kill a man, Draco?"
Draco thinks quickly. He has the feeling that whatever he says will not please the man before him. If he says yes, he will be accused of being a coward and not worthy of the name of Malfoy. If he says no, he will be cuffed for disobedience.
"It depends who told me so, Sir," he offers after a time.
"Not good enough!" MacNair snaps, in a sudden burst of temper. "There is no middle ground in this life, Draco, you either commit yourself to one side or other, do you understand? Now answer me."
"Yes," Draco mumbles, suddenly frightened of what could follow. It does not come, for MacNair leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "Get up and come here," he says softly.
Draco shivers, then comes to MacNair's side. He is beckoned to hold out his hand, and MacNair takes it, running his dirty fingernails across the skin whilst Draco stands impassive. Then the wand comes out, and is pressed into Draco's palm. Intense pain swiftly runs through him, and he cries out, desperately trying to pull his hand away, but the grip around his wrist has tightened and there is no way he can get loose. "Wrong answer, Draco," MacNair hisses.
He throws him to the floor. Draco passes out, and when he comes to he is bound, his wrists in manacles stretched above his head. He is topless, and he becomes aware of the smell, for he hasn't washed in days and the grime coats his exterior. His hand throbs, certainly not helped by the metal coils rubbing around his wrist, pushing his palms together.
"Ah, you're awake," a cheerful voice calls from behind him. Draco is bound so tightly he cannot turn but he does not want to, for he must do everything he can to help himself in this situation. It does not bode well.
Cold metal is pressed to his back, and Draco tenses painfully, anticipating the moment when the blade will press through the skin. It does not press through, but merely stays there, as MacNair begins to talk.
"Do not tense, Draco, for it shows you fear the pain. Relax," he is commanded. It takes Draco a long time, but eventually he relaxes. Although his mind does not.
"You must learn, Draco. I have no idea what happens when you return to Hogwarts, because every summer you come to me you are exactly the same. Do not fear. Do not love. Do not hope. Do not enjoy. Be a Malfoy. Be true to your heritage. Make your father proud of you."
At this Draco flinches, and the blades pierces his skin making him arch, but the blade goes with him, and the pain begins to rush through his body. The blade begins to move, and he feels something being drawn on his body. His body threatens to pass out, but he tries desperately to stay awake, knowing he must pass this test. For father. For Lucius...
No. Not for Lucius. For him.
Then he forgets all promises as the magic seals the scar. It is horrific, the pain he feels, it surpasses all other punishments, and Draco cannot bear it, and he attempts to retreat to a land of his own devising, where there is comfort and warmth and there is no one left to hurt him.
But MacNair will not let him, and brings him back just as he begins to fall, and then the true pain starts, and the violation, as the magic rips his body in two settling through him. Draco does not know what curse MacNair has laid upon him, but he knows that it is more serious than anything else he has ever experienced, and that Lucius has approved its use. Lucius....
He screams as the penetration begins. Screams so loud his throat becomes raw and then bloody, as the first true emotion he has felt that day hits him with all the force of an Unforgivable. Hate. MacNair did not tell him he couldn't hate. He hates MacNair, and he hates Lucius, and he hates himself for failing them so unforgivably that they must do this to him. It seems to go on forever, this concoction of pain, torment, and magic, until it no longer seems unbearable, and Draco stops screaming, and begins to laugh.
And that is when it all stops.
And Draco cries, the tears flowing down his body, uncaring of further punishment. He is held close, though by whom he can not see, for his eyes are misted over and his head is buried in someone's shoulder. The smell is comforting, and Draco nestles his head inside the cloth. It smells of home. Draco's hands are released from the manacles, and he falls to the floor, no longer supported. He is taken upstairs and bathed, the water stinging his skin until a soft spell is whispered and the pain vanishes. Then he is dried, healed, and taken to a softly covered bed. The person holds Draco close. He opens his eyes to see who it is, desperately hoping it could be father. When he looks into the eyes of Severus, Draco's last hope dies, and he succumbs to sleep once more.
MacNair is pleased when Severus tells him of this. Draco has finally learnt the lesson he's been trying to teach him for the past two years.
Lucius does not check on Draco that week.
Warnings: Bit nasty, this chapter, the certificate goes up.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.
Part 5 will be put online in a couple of days or so.
Part Four
Draco does not want the school year to end. He counts down the days with an ever-increasing dread, knowing that he cannot stem the flow of time but wishing wholeheartedly that he could find some way to do it. Nobody understands his melancholy as the summer months approach, and he can tell nobody the reason why. Draco is young, but foolishness was left behind a long time ago.
He works hard, harder than anyone else in Slytherin House, hoping and hoping that he will do well in the exams this year. He knows that to beat Hermione Granger is impossible. But Draco is used to second best, and he knows that that is all he can hope for.
But no matter how hard he studies, no answer of how to stop the summer holidays from approaching surfaces, but by the time he has packed and is sitting on the train, he no longer cares. He has resigned himself to his fate, and will see it through with dignity.
Arriving at the manor, he finds it deserted. Nobody has come to welcome him home. Draco is glad, although he reminds himself he shouldn't be, and walks quickly to his room. It has not changed, although the dust has not been allowed to settle – marks of the many house-elves the manor uses. His books, the ones he is not allowed at Hogwarts, lie in rows across from his bed, and he quickly gets one out, and thumbs through it.
"Draco...." A voice purrs. Draco jumps. He had not notice Lucius enter his room.
Lucius looks beautiful, as always, and walks gracefully to the foot of Draco's bed, holding his gaze. Draco looks upon his son, just entering the first stages of puberty at the tender age of fourteen. Draco is a late starter, but that is a hereditary trait of the Malfoy family. Lucius likes it – it proves the Malfoy's do not need to prove themselves to anyone.
He does not regret sending Draco away. Draco needs to change, and as he can see from the light still shining in Draco's eyes as he looks at him, he knows that Draco must go away again. Draco's emotions are too fresh, too raw, and it is too dangerous for Draco to have those qualities, else he will be taken advantage of.
So back to MacNair he must go. Lucius does not hesitate.
"You leave tomorrow, my son." Draco bows his head, the light gone. He tries to feel nothing. This is the point of the exercise. No emotion, no subjection, just cold and ruthless, just like Lucius.
"I will pack my things," Draco mumbles, and raises his head. But Lucius has already left.
The next morning he dresses slowly, delaying the inevitable, but the hour soon comes and he walks to his father's study. MacNair is waiting for him, a smile on his face as soon as Draco walks through the door. Draco's eyes do not meet his, for he knows the penalty for such a crime.
Lucius thanks MacNair, and looks at his son, before sighing. He will check on Draco's progress within a week. It is more than some fathers do, he knows that.
MacNair's home isn't a manor, it is made of cold grey stone, and it smells damp, but it is warm and lit with magical fires, and animal heads line the walls. Draco only sees the upstairs of the house as they arrive. He will spend the entirety of the summer beneath the house.
He is locked into a room, which contains nothing in it besides a bed, a basin and a bucket. There he is left. There is no light, and Draco's eyes soon accustom to the eerie yet familiar shapes in the room. It is silent. Draco closes his eyes and sleeps, knowing that if he does not he could regret it later. Last time he was deprived of sleep for four days, before collapsing from sheer exhaustion. He has no idea of what will come this time.
He is left in this room for two days. Water appears, but no food, but Draco hardly notices. He has never been one for eating, and he finds no pleasure in it. If it were not for the fact he would die if he did not, Draco would never touch food. He cannot remember who put the idea into his head that food was dirty. He decides he does not care.
Then he is taken out, and his eyes sting and burn with the light. He is given a meal to eat, and MacNair watches, and once they are done, MacNair gets out a book.
"If you were told you had to, would you kill a man, Draco?"
Draco thinks quickly. He has the feeling that whatever he says will not please the man before him. If he says yes, he will be accused of being a coward and not worthy of the name of Malfoy. If he says no, he will be cuffed for disobedience.
"It depends who told me so, Sir," he offers after a time.
"Not good enough!" MacNair snaps, in a sudden burst of temper. "There is no middle ground in this life, Draco, you either commit yourself to one side or other, do you understand? Now answer me."
"Yes," Draco mumbles, suddenly frightened of what could follow. It does not come, for MacNair leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "Get up and come here," he says softly.
Draco shivers, then comes to MacNair's side. He is beckoned to hold out his hand, and MacNair takes it, running his dirty fingernails across the skin whilst Draco stands impassive. Then the wand comes out, and is pressed into Draco's palm. Intense pain swiftly runs through him, and he cries out, desperately trying to pull his hand away, but the grip around his wrist has tightened and there is no way he can get loose. "Wrong answer, Draco," MacNair hisses.
He throws him to the floor. Draco passes out, and when he comes to he is bound, his wrists in manacles stretched above his head. He is topless, and he becomes aware of the smell, for he hasn't washed in days and the grime coats his exterior. His hand throbs, certainly not helped by the metal coils rubbing around his wrist, pushing his palms together.
"Ah, you're awake," a cheerful voice calls from behind him. Draco is bound so tightly he cannot turn but he does not want to, for he must do everything he can to help himself in this situation. It does not bode well.
Cold metal is pressed to his back, and Draco tenses painfully, anticipating the moment when the blade will press through the skin. It does not press through, but merely stays there, as MacNair begins to talk.
"Do not tense, Draco, for it shows you fear the pain. Relax," he is commanded. It takes Draco a long time, but eventually he relaxes. Although his mind does not.
"You must learn, Draco. I have no idea what happens when you return to Hogwarts, because every summer you come to me you are exactly the same. Do not fear. Do not love. Do not hope. Do not enjoy. Be a Malfoy. Be true to your heritage. Make your father proud of you."
At this Draco flinches, and the blades pierces his skin making him arch, but the blade goes with him, and the pain begins to rush through his body. The blade begins to move, and he feels something being drawn on his body. His body threatens to pass out, but he tries desperately to stay awake, knowing he must pass this test. For father. For Lucius...
No. Not for Lucius. For him.
Then he forgets all promises as the magic seals the scar. It is horrific, the pain he feels, it surpasses all other punishments, and Draco cannot bear it, and he attempts to retreat to a land of his own devising, where there is comfort and warmth and there is no one left to hurt him.
But MacNair will not let him, and brings him back just as he begins to fall, and then the true pain starts, and the violation, as the magic rips his body in two settling through him. Draco does not know what curse MacNair has laid upon him, but he knows that it is more serious than anything else he has ever experienced, and that Lucius has approved its use. Lucius....
He screams as the penetration begins. Screams so loud his throat becomes raw and then bloody, as the first true emotion he has felt that day hits him with all the force of an Unforgivable. Hate. MacNair did not tell him he couldn't hate. He hates MacNair, and he hates Lucius, and he hates himself for failing them so unforgivably that they must do this to him. It seems to go on forever, this concoction of pain, torment, and magic, until it no longer seems unbearable, and Draco stops screaming, and begins to laugh.
And that is when it all stops.
And Draco cries, the tears flowing down his body, uncaring of further punishment. He is held close, though by whom he can not see, for his eyes are misted over and his head is buried in someone's shoulder. The smell is comforting, and Draco nestles his head inside the cloth. It smells of home. Draco's hands are released from the manacles, and he falls to the floor, no longer supported. He is taken upstairs and bathed, the water stinging his skin until a soft spell is whispered and the pain vanishes. Then he is dried, healed, and taken to a softly covered bed. The person holds Draco close. He opens his eyes to see who it is, desperately hoping it could be father. When he looks into the eyes of Severus, Draco's last hope dies, and he succumbs to sleep once more.
MacNair is pleased when Severus tells him of this. Draco has finally learnt the lesson he's been trying to teach him for the past two years.
Lucius does not check on Draco that week.