Note: So totally AU if you read OotP. But then again, aren't all fics?
-----------------------------------------------------
These wounds won't seem to heal.
This pain is just too real.
There's so just so much that time can not erase.
- "My Immortal", Evanescence
Chapter Seventeen: Memories Evoked
It was a dark room. The only source of light came from a solitary oil lamp, which flickered in time with the invisible wind, that seemed to come from no where in particular. All around the room were bookshelves, which hid the blood red colored walls. The room held only one chair - a tall, throne-like piece with a regal 'M' precariously placed atop the headrest. It stood behind a large desk, made of the same oak, that was nearly the whole width of the room. There was a man occupying the chair, his hair gleaming against the lamp's light. His posture could only be described as 'perfection', and the rest of his bodily appearance coming dangerously close. His steely eyes bore a hole into the only other living occupant in the room: a scrawny little child of a tender seven years old. If it had not been for the hair and eyes, one would wonder if they were related or not. The boy hardly held himself as highly as his father did. "Do you know why you're here?" the older man asked, his words even and solid. The boy marveled at his father's voice - his tone held just the right amount of cold-cut emotion, without becoming too attached for anyone to sense a weakness. "No," the boy answered, feeling a great deal amount of shame for not having a tone like his father's. His father looked at him, his expression not having changed a bit. The boy could not help but flinch under the man's cold stare. "Do not be afraid," his father answered, though his voice held no trace of comfort. "I did not summon you here for discipline." Draco visibly relaxed, knowing very well the meaning of the term 'discipline' in the Malfoy house. "May I ask, then, what for?" Manners and etiquette also held a significant place within the family. "We need to talk," his father answered simply. He leaned back into his seat, just as Draco began to feel a strain in his skinny legs. "I've been away much," his father said slowly, as if reminiscing. "I can't say I really know you anymore," he continued, using the phrase loosely. Draco nodded. He was not exactly sure what to say, if he should at all. "You're growing fast, my son; I regret not being there to witness it." Again, Draco nodded. Better to keep silent, he thought. "There are things a boy can only learn from his father - important things. Do you understand?" Draco nodded his response, but frowned. He wondered where his father was getting at. "Life, for example," Lucius continued, "and death. Tell me, son, what do you think happens after one dies?" Draco started. His father summoned him to talk about death? He was only seven! "Uh," he said, slightly panicked. "I-I remember reading a book, about this hero who went to Heaven, and," he paused, frowning deeply, "and the bad guy went to Hell." He lowered his gaze to stare at his father's slender fingers which he placed over his desk. "Mother told me Hell was not a happy place… That people who went there spent an eternity on fire." He brought his eyes back up to stare at his father, almost in desperate hope. "Are there such places, father?" Lucius did not move. He kept a steady gaze with his son, not even blinking when Draco did. "Yes," he said, "and no." Draco lowered his brows in curiosity. "What do you mean?" "There is no Heaven," Lucius said bluntly. "Heaven is a myth - a fairytale parents tell their children to get them to behave. Heaven is not a place where the 'good guys' go, because, in truth, there are none. Everyone sins. Every person has an evil within them; some just refuse to accept it." He paused to let it sink in. He watched as his son swallowed, and struggled to remain standing. "But there is a Hell," he said. "That is where everybody descends to. The severity of their fire depends on the severity of their sins. But do not believe what they tell you, son," he said, not really clarifying who 'they' were. "It does not burn as harsh as they say it does." He steepled his fingers, gazing at his heir through livid eyes. "There is no light at the end of the tunnel, but an endless path of darkness. That is why the bad are better off than the good - their fires burn the brightest."
Draco's eyes opened to the feeling of immense pain. His chest burned with a searing pain that seemed to strengthen with every heartbeat. He inhaled deeply, the mists of the unforgotten memory still very much alive in his mind. He was vaguely aware of the sound of weeping somewhere beside him. "G-Ginny," he croaked, his voice scratchy from pain. He motioned his hand helplessly in the air towards her direction. Within an instant he felt her hands wrap around his only, squeezing it tenderly. Her sobbing increased, though now from relief. "I," she gasped, "I thought you - " She hiccoughed, and shook from her desperate attempts to stop crying. "Shh," he told her, squeezing her hand gently. Slowly, he closed his eyes, and focused on tolerating the pain within him. He heard a swish of robes somewhere in front of him, and was reluctantly reminded of the other occupant in the room. "Did you enjoy that, Draco?" Blaise asked scathingly, though her voice shook. It sounded as if she had been crying herself. "Tell me how much you enjoyed that." She sounded close enough to be right at the foot of the bed. "What - " he wheezed, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He paused to take a deep breath before attempting to ask again. "What did you do to me?" His eyes were still closed, but he was willing to bet that Blaise was smirking. "Just a handy little spell to pass the time, my sweet," said Blaise, sounding on edge. "Menisserum: one of the most advanced potions in the Dark Arts. After the Cruciatus Curse, you were knocked out for quite a while, so I chose that moment to slip you a bit. That right there was just a little signal telling me it's ready." By that time, Draco had opened his eyes and struggled into a sitting position. The spell sounded vaguely familiar, though he was not quite sure he'd want to figure out the true purpose of it. Ginny, on the other hand, did. "What does it do to him?" she sniffled, dropping Draco's hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. At that, Blaise grinned. "Let me show you," she said, and drew out her wand. A thin, threadlike substance shot out of it, and slithered through the air to form a circle around Draco and Ginny. The silver-gray cords hovered in midair, flowing to a breeze that was not there. In experiment, Draco released Ginny's hand, and the circle dissolved, only to reappear around Draco alone. He raised a curious brow. Blaise looked shaken, as if the spell bit off a large chuck of her energy. Though she still managed to sneer in triumph. "Impressive," said Draco after a few tense moments. "But can it dance?" Blaise managed a weak chuckle. She was leaning against the door frame now for support, but kept her right arm level with the ground. "That's just the tip of the iceberg." She paused, to take a deep and shaky breath. "Tell me how it feels, Draco," she said softly, "I've been dying to know." Then suddenly the cords turned a deep crimson. The color pulsated all around Draco, but only within the boundaries of the cords. He and Ginny watched it curiously, both with a pang of dread. And without warning - "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Unconceivable pain ripped through Draco's heart, spreading like lava throughout his body. Time only seemed to strengthen it. "How does it feel?" Blaise asked with sick pleasure. She stared at him hungrily, her arm shaking slightly from controlled power. Draco did not respond. It was impossible to even think of responding. He couldn't stand it anymore; his hand flew to his chest, and ripped his shirt apart. He clawed at his bare chest, oblivious to the blood staining his hands. He didn't care that it was his. He continued to claw, desperate to get through to rip out his burning heart. But then it was gone. Not a trace of pain was within him, as if it never happened at all. Draco opened his eyes and saw the color drain from the cords. It was back to it's dull silver-gray. Shell-shocked, Draco drew in air; his lungs rejoiced as oxygen filled it's barren walls. But the numbing was going away. In its place was a light sting - the after effects of his desperate attempts at his heart. Though the pain was like child's play now. A part of his brain ordered him to keep his cool. He had to look strong - unaffected. He remained still, taking deep and even breaths. "What are you doing to him?" he heard someone gasp. Ginny. He blinked, suddenly, and turned. Ginny was where she had last been, her cheeks bright red and her eyes welled up with tears. She was staring at Blaise with a horrified expression, and refused to meet his eyes. She was crying for him… again. The other woman in the room chuckled viciously. While she could barely hold herself up, Blaise looked a lot stronger than Draco felt. "It's brilliant isn't it?" She was grinning madly, all the while keeping her hand as steady as she could. A demented sort of pride shone in her eyes - a look that no longer resembled Blaise, or how he knew her. It was something bigger; something Darker. "Thanks to that potion, I have direct, unhindered access to your brain." Her eyes narrowed as she whispered, "You see, Draco… You no longer have control of your emotions, nor your physical sensations… I do." She threw her head back in sudden laughter - a pure, girlish sound. She might as well have been giggling about some pretty boy. "I can make you feel anything I choose. What you felt just now, if you had any doubt, was pain. How was it?" Draco remained silent. He couldn't answer, let alone get his vocal chord to work. And Blaise knew that. She took great pleasure in that knowledge. "Nothing to say?" she mused. "Interesting. The great Draco Malfoy: speechless. Perhaps another go at it, then?" The chords shimmered back to a deep red. "NO!" Ginny screeched, and threw herself over Draco, as if shielding him from a bullet. In the mini-second that it took her to do this, Draco tried to shove her away, but the pain was quickly returning. Ginny, who latched herself around his waist, squeezed him tightly; the spell coursed within her as well. Together, they screamed their pain to the world.
It was Christmas morning, and in one week, Draco would be exactly six years old and 5 months. Jubilated with the feeling the holiday tended to bring, Draco skipped down the grand staircase towards the towering Christmas tree. His father did not allow him to decorate it as he wanted, though his mother secretly added an ornament he made the other week. He beamed at the disaster that was supposedly a Santa, before turning to grin at his presents. Only to find there were none. Frowning, Draco walked all around the tree, secretly wishing it was hidden around the side. But there was nothing to be found but a few fallen tinsel, which the House Elves would surely pay for later. He turned when he heard footsteps coming behind him, and pouted up at his father. "Where did the presents go?" he asked. His father stared at him with emotion-less eyes. "Presents are a waste of money," he said sharply. "You've gotten what you needed on your birthday." Draco's bottom lip quivered. "But you're supposed to have presents on Christmas!" His father ignored him. He brought his eyes around to stare at something on the tree, and, feeling like it was the end of the world already, Draco followed his gaze. He found himself staring back at his ornament. He swallowed. In one fluid motion, his father snatched the craft from a branch and held it tightly in his hand. He sent his son a piercing look. "I told you not to touch the tree," he said in an icy tone, and without even the slightest flinch, he crushed the ornament, sending the shattered pieces down to the ground in front of Draco. Draco stared at the remnants of his hard work, and fought his hardest not to cry in front of his father. He would save that for later, when his father had gone, and no one would be able to hear his desperate wails.
Tears were staining his cheeks now. The shield-like magic of the circle kept him from falling back, so Draco was forced to remain in his sitting position. Ginny was sprawled across his lap, her breathing as heavy as his. In front of them was Blaise, eyes wide from glee. He saw her raise her arm higher, her eyes glinting in madness before the circle beamed its crimson beacon once again.
He was fourteen now, having just returned from his year away at school. His father had beckoned him to his study, and Draco knew that no force on Earth could save him from the fate his father would subject him to. He undoubtedly heard about Harry Potter's close escape. He entered the study to find his father pacing around the room. Lucius turned on him almost immediately. "Can you believe this?" he snapped, nostrils flaring. Draco noted his father was looking rather shaky. Voldemort must've been as angry as Lucius was, and took it out on his followers. Draco braced himself, knowing full well whom the followers take their anger out on. "That damned Potter," his father growled, and Draco knew better than to interrupt a rant. His father stormed towards him. "And you!" he growled, baring his sharp canines. "You and your acquintances were outsmarted by Potter and his following - again!" He let out a strained shout, and continued pacing. Draco wisely stood his ground. "Can you imagine what went through my mind when I heard you, Crabbe, and Goyle were found on the Express floor, up to your knickers in hexes?!" Certainly not worry, Draco thought glumly. Lucius snapped his head to glare at him, as if he read Draco's mind. "You've disgraced your family; you've disgraced me." He inhaled deeply, shaking as he let the air out. "Go to your room." Draco swallowed. For any other kid, those four words would've meant their actual room, but for Draco, it meant the dungeons. He nodded once, then left the room to head down the stone staircase that led to the dungeons. When Draco finally got there, Lucius was already there waiting for him. (His father loved to make Draco walk long distances, and Apparate there himself just to show how inexperienced his son was.) He was standing in front of a large rectangular box, his so called 'coffin'. Draco approached his father with his head held high. He would not show his fear. Without a word, Lucius magicked the box lid off, revealing a nothing but emptiness. Draco discarded his outer clothing, leaving only a shirt and his pants, before climbing into the box, and assuming his usual position - face up, legs straight, and arms crossed. His father sent him a disgusted look before resealing the box. Once the darkness of the box had settled in, the true discipline began. One by one he felt the little creatures creep out of the shadows. They crawled over his body, sending shivers down his spine. Some had slime that provided an extra layer on Draco's skin as they slithered over him. Others had feelers that poked and probed him in places he couldn't even imagine he had. But those were not what he dreaded the most. After a few seconds, he felt their suckers on him - first on his legs, then over his chest and arms. The Draconii fed off of him for what felt like eternity. The box was steadily growing cold, and he felt his very life being sucked out of him. His father left him there for two days.
Ginny was crying now. Draco wondered if she saw what he saw, though he didn't have to ask considering the way she held herself. She was still over his lap, her hands gripping her arms while tears fell from her scrunched-up eyes. His tears mixed with hers. Gingerly, he brought his head up to glare at Blaise, who looked bent on pleasure. There were so many things he wanted to call, throw at, and do to her that it was slightly overwhelming. But he couldn't voice any one of these, for before he knew it, the circle gained color again - though it was not the red he'd come to hate, but a light, almost relaxing hue of blue.
"Hold still," his mother cooed. She struggled to fix Draco's shirt as he couldn't keep still. His body was just aching to move around, and, being only three years old, it was hard to argue. "Sweetie," his mother giggled, gently tugging the collars of his shirt. "You're going to wear yourself out if you don't calm down. Now hold still while I finish buttoning up your new shirt." Draco grinned boyishly at the mention of his new gift. His birthday was just a day ago, and the shirt his mother was currently struggling to put on, was his favorite present. Naturally, it was from her. "There," said Narcissa, stepping back to admire her baby boy. He managed to remain still for a second or two, before hopping off the stool she placed him on and tearing off towards the picnic a House Elf had just set up. Narcissa marveled at the energy he had, and laughed when Draco got hold of his favorite sandwich. She sat on the blanket prepared for them, and watched as Draco tackled the ham and cheese. By the end of it, most of the cheese had found it's way to his cheeks. She giggled and reached out to touch his face gingerly, smiling in content. "You know," she said on random, "you look great in black."
The blue hue shifted to a deep red.
It was Valentine's Day, second year. Draco hadn't gotten a Valentine's - not even from Pansy. Even Crabbe and Goyle received one (nevermind that it was from the other)! He stalked off towards his next class, only to find Potter pinned to the ground by one of those gruff Cupid things. It was holding something red. Draco's anger flared. Of course he'd get a Valentine! Nearly growling, Draco's eyes searched the gathering crowd for the culprit. Then he saw her; Eloise Midg-something or the other. She was shaking like a leaf, trying desperately to hide herself from Harry's view. Her face was burning a bright red; it wasn't hard to tell who sent the Valentine. Suddenly something (other than the Valentine) red caught his eye. The newest Weasley to come to Hogwarts - Ginger or Jenny or something. She stood amongst the crowd, trying to push her way to get to her class. An evil thought entered his mind. As the little Weasley made her way across them, he shouted, as loud as he could, "I don't think Potter liked your poem much!", and saw her face turn bright red, scandalized. He grinned to himself in twisted satisfaction. If I'm going down, he thought, I'm taking everybody with me.
Blue.
Her laughter filled the empty field. She was laying on the grass now too, just a few inches from where he was. They were gazing up at the stars together; he had just pointed out the constelation Draco, claiming that it was, in fact, named after him instead of the other way around. It was a nice turn of converstation, considering how serious it was earlier. "What's that one?" Ginny asked, raising her hand to be perpendicular to the ground. She pointed at a small clump, looking slightly like a worn sweater. Draco pursed his lips in deep concentration. "Nullus Informatio," he said after a while. Ginny giggled at his accent. "What does that mean?" "No idea," he answered with a slight smile. His smile grew as Ginny was sent into another round of giggles.
Red.
There it was, just above the Professors' stands - the Snitch hovered slightly, just above the tip of Professor Sprout's hat. He didn't even bother to look to see if Potter had spotted it too; he was off in a second. He leaned forward on the broomstick, keeping his gray eyes trained on the flying Snitch. It was his last and final game - the end of his seventh year was coming steadily closer - and he wanted nothing more than to beat Potter, once and for all. His heart pumped with excitement as he grew closer. On instinct, he thrust his arm out, extending it as far as he could. Potter was no where to be seen. He couldn't believe it. He was going to win. His fingers wiggled for the Snitch, which was only just inches away. Then suddenly, it was gone. In its place, was a leather-bound hand. And in that hand, was his Snitch. He felt the pit of his stomach drop thirty feet as Potter flew from his spot behind the stands, his hand raised in the air in victory. He lost again…
Pain. Happiness. Pain. Happiness. It got to the point where it was going too fast for Draco to keep track. When he thought he couldn't take it anymore, the circle flickered once, then faded back into its original silver-gray. Draco opened his eyes, not never realizing that he had closed them in the first place. Across his lap, Ginny stirred. His pant leg was damp from her tears. Draco looked around. The circle had faded fully, and was now completely gone. He looked, and saw Blaise bent over an armchair, gasping and panting for breath. Her wand lay on the floor, forgotten. It must've gotten too much for her. An odd sort of satisfaction hit Draco. Good. Draco felt his eyes droop again, his body aching for the rest he so greatly deserved. But before he could fall back into the bed and off to sleep, the door swung open, and in came Goyle, looking slightly jumpy. He raced towards Blaise, and placed a large hand on her shoulder. "It's ready."
-----------------------------------------------------
Aren't you proud?! I managed to whip this up in ONE day! And a school day no doubt! I have to say, I'm mighty proud of myself, considering the horrible creative rut I've been in for the past few... uh, months. I mean, even if this chatper IS a bit of a filler, it still fits in nicely. XP Anyways, notes.
- can't exactly say when the next chapter's coming out. ~_~; I didn't even know THIS chapter was coming out!
- my domain, bad-faith.net is in dire need of a host! *dies* It houses all of my Harry Potter-related sites, including Open to Interpretation, my Draco shrine.
- school's started. AP class is hell.
- did you catch the Draconii/fear of bugs reference? ^_^
- uh... hope you like? Oh, also! In the memory with Draco and Ginny looking at the stars, that's in the same scene a few chapters earlier on, before Ginny got kidnapped. =T And the stuff he said is actually Latin, and it actually does mean "No idea". *shrugs* Also, if you haven't already guessed, the red color meant 'pain', and the blue meant 'happiness'. MAJOR credit to K.A. Applegate (author of Animorphs), where I got the idea for this spiffy little method of torture. You can find it in book #33, of Tobias's (eee! My fav. character) narration. The "If I'm going down" speech Draco thought in one of the memories is a quote from Friends (Chandler to be exact). What else, what else, what else? Oh, yes! If you're wondering why that one memory (with Narcissa) is 'happy', it's because, well, he loved his mother. AND, I made her be the one to start his whole black-attire fetish thinger. Har.
Thank You's:
Joya, Faith M, Beth, Hippogriff11, and Hplova4eva.
*imitates Crush* You so totally rock!
These wounds won't seem to heal.
This pain is just too real.
There's so just so much that time can not erase.
- "My Immortal", Evanescence
Chapter Seventeen: Memories Evoked
It was a dark room. The only source of light came from a solitary oil lamp, which flickered in time with the invisible wind, that seemed to come from no where in particular. All around the room were bookshelves, which hid the blood red colored walls. The room held only one chair - a tall, throne-like piece with a regal 'M' precariously placed atop the headrest. It stood behind a large desk, made of the same oak, that was nearly the whole width of the room. There was a man occupying the chair, his hair gleaming against the lamp's light. His posture could only be described as 'perfection', and the rest of his bodily appearance coming dangerously close. His steely eyes bore a hole into the only other living occupant in the room: a scrawny little child of a tender seven years old. If it had not been for the hair and eyes, one would wonder if they were related or not. The boy hardly held himself as highly as his father did. "Do you know why you're here?" the older man asked, his words even and solid. The boy marveled at his father's voice - his tone held just the right amount of cold-cut emotion, without becoming too attached for anyone to sense a weakness. "No," the boy answered, feeling a great deal amount of shame for not having a tone like his father's. His father looked at him, his expression not having changed a bit. The boy could not help but flinch under the man's cold stare. "Do not be afraid," his father answered, though his voice held no trace of comfort. "I did not summon you here for discipline." Draco visibly relaxed, knowing very well the meaning of the term 'discipline' in the Malfoy house. "May I ask, then, what for?" Manners and etiquette also held a significant place within the family. "We need to talk," his father answered simply. He leaned back into his seat, just as Draco began to feel a strain in his skinny legs. "I've been away much," his father said slowly, as if reminiscing. "I can't say I really know you anymore," he continued, using the phrase loosely. Draco nodded. He was not exactly sure what to say, if he should at all. "You're growing fast, my son; I regret not being there to witness it." Again, Draco nodded. Better to keep silent, he thought. "There are things a boy can only learn from his father - important things. Do you understand?" Draco nodded his response, but frowned. He wondered where his father was getting at. "Life, for example," Lucius continued, "and death. Tell me, son, what do you think happens after one dies?" Draco started. His father summoned him to talk about death? He was only seven! "Uh," he said, slightly panicked. "I-I remember reading a book, about this hero who went to Heaven, and," he paused, frowning deeply, "and the bad guy went to Hell." He lowered his gaze to stare at his father's slender fingers which he placed over his desk. "Mother told me Hell was not a happy place… That people who went there spent an eternity on fire." He brought his eyes back up to stare at his father, almost in desperate hope. "Are there such places, father?" Lucius did not move. He kept a steady gaze with his son, not even blinking when Draco did. "Yes," he said, "and no." Draco lowered his brows in curiosity. "What do you mean?" "There is no Heaven," Lucius said bluntly. "Heaven is a myth - a fairytale parents tell their children to get them to behave. Heaven is not a place where the 'good guys' go, because, in truth, there are none. Everyone sins. Every person has an evil within them; some just refuse to accept it." He paused to let it sink in. He watched as his son swallowed, and struggled to remain standing. "But there is a Hell," he said. "That is where everybody descends to. The severity of their fire depends on the severity of their sins. But do not believe what they tell you, son," he said, not really clarifying who 'they' were. "It does not burn as harsh as they say it does." He steepled his fingers, gazing at his heir through livid eyes. "There is no light at the end of the tunnel, but an endless path of darkness. That is why the bad are better off than the good - their fires burn the brightest."
Draco's eyes opened to the feeling of immense pain. His chest burned with a searing pain that seemed to strengthen with every heartbeat. He inhaled deeply, the mists of the unforgotten memory still very much alive in his mind. He was vaguely aware of the sound of weeping somewhere beside him. "G-Ginny," he croaked, his voice scratchy from pain. He motioned his hand helplessly in the air towards her direction. Within an instant he felt her hands wrap around his only, squeezing it tenderly. Her sobbing increased, though now from relief. "I," she gasped, "I thought you - " She hiccoughed, and shook from her desperate attempts to stop crying. "Shh," he told her, squeezing her hand gently. Slowly, he closed his eyes, and focused on tolerating the pain within him. He heard a swish of robes somewhere in front of him, and was reluctantly reminded of the other occupant in the room. "Did you enjoy that, Draco?" Blaise asked scathingly, though her voice shook. It sounded as if she had been crying herself. "Tell me how much you enjoyed that." She sounded close enough to be right at the foot of the bed. "What - " he wheezed, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He paused to take a deep breath before attempting to ask again. "What did you do to me?" His eyes were still closed, but he was willing to bet that Blaise was smirking. "Just a handy little spell to pass the time, my sweet," said Blaise, sounding on edge. "Menisserum: one of the most advanced potions in the Dark Arts. After the Cruciatus Curse, you were knocked out for quite a while, so I chose that moment to slip you a bit. That right there was just a little signal telling me it's ready." By that time, Draco had opened his eyes and struggled into a sitting position. The spell sounded vaguely familiar, though he was not quite sure he'd want to figure out the true purpose of it. Ginny, on the other hand, did. "What does it do to him?" she sniffled, dropping Draco's hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. At that, Blaise grinned. "Let me show you," she said, and drew out her wand. A thin, threadlike substance shot out of it, and slithered through the air to form a circle around Draco and Ginny. The silver-gray cords hovered in midair, flowing to a breeze that was not there. In experiment, Draco released Ginny's hand, and the circle dissolved, only to reappear around Draco alone. He raised a curious brow. Blaise looked shaken, as if the spell bit off a large chuck of her energy. Though she still managed to sneer in triumph. "Impressive," said Draco after a few tense moments. "But can it dance?" Blaise managed a weak chuckle. She was leaning against the door frame now for support, but kept her right arm level with the ground. "That's just the tip of the iceberg." She paused, to take a deep and shaky breath. "Tell me how it feels, Draco," she said softly, "I've been dying to know." Then suddenly the cords turned a deep crimson. The color pulsated all around Draco, but only within the boundaries of the cords. He and Ginny watched it curiously, both with a pang of dread. And without warning - "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Unconceivable pain ripped through Draco's heart, spreading like lava throughout his body. Time only seemed to strengthen it. "How does it feel?" Blaise asked with sick pleasure. She stared at him hungrily, her arm shaking slightly from controlled power. Draco did not respond. It was impossible to even think of responding. He couldn't stand it anymore; his hand flew to his chest, and ripped his shirt apart. He clawed at his bare chest, oblivious to the blood staining his hands. He didn't care that it was his. He continued to claw, desperate to get through to rip out his burning heart. But then it was gone. Not a trace of pain was within him, as if it never happened at all. Draco opened his eyes and saw the color drain from the cords. It was back to it's dull silver-gray. Shell-shocked, Draco drew in air; his lungs rejoiced as oxygen filled it's barren walls. But the numbing was going away. In its place was a light sting - the after effects of his desperate attempts at his heart. Though the pain was like child's play now. A part of his brain ordered him to keep his cool. He had to look strong - unaffected. He remained still, taking deep and even breaths. "What are you doing to him?" he heard someone gasp. Ginny. He blinked, suddenly, and turned. Ginny was where she had last been, her cheeks bright red and her eyes welled up with tears. She was staring at Blaise with a horrified expression, and refused to meet his eyes. She was crying for him… again. The other woman in the room chuckled viciously. While she could barely hold herself up, Blaise looked a lot stronger than Draco felt. "It's brilliant isn't it?" She was grinning madly, all the while keeping her hand as steady as she could. A demented sort of pride shone in her eyes - a look that no longer resembled Blaise, or how he knew her. It was something bigger; something Darker. "Thanks to that potion, I have direct, unhindered access to your brain." Her eyes narrowed as she whispered, "You see, Draco… You no longer have control of your emotions, nor your physical sensations… I do." She threw her head back in sudden laughter - a pure, girlish sound. She might as well have been giggling about some pretty boy. "I can make you feel anything I choose. What you felt just now, if you had any doubt, was pain. How was it?" Draco remained silent. He couldn't answer, let alone get his vocal chord to work. And Blaise knew that. She took great pleasure in that knowledge. "Nothing to say?" she mused. "Interesting. The great Draco Malfoy: speechless. Perhaps another go at it, then?" The chords shimmered back to a deep red. "NO!" Ginny screeched, and threw herself over Draco, as if shielding him from a bullet. In the mini-second that it took her to do this, Draco tried to shove her away, but the pain was quickly returning. Ginny, who latched herself around his waist, squeezed him tightly; the spell coursed within her as well. Together, they screamed their pain to the world.
It was Christmas morning, and in one week, Draco would be exactly six years old and 5 months. Jubilated with the feeling the holiday tended to bring, Draco skipped down the grand staircase towards the towering Christmas tree. His father did not allow him to decorate it as he wanted, though his mother secretly added an ornament he made the other week. He beamed at the disaster that was supposedly a Santa, before turning to grin at his presents. Only to find there were none. Frowning, Draco walked all around the tree, secretly wishing it was hidden around the side. But there was nothing to be found but a few fallen tinsel, which the House Elves would surely pay for later. He turned when he heard footsteps coming behind him, and pouted up at his father. "Where did the presents go?" he asked. His father stared at him with emotion-less eyes. "Presents are a waste of money," he said sharply. "You've gotten what you needed on your birthday." Draco's bottom lip quivered. "But you're supposed to have presents on Christmas!" His father ignored him. He brought his eyes around to stare at something on the tree, and, feeling like it was the end of the world already, Draco followed his gaze. He found himself staring back at his ornament. He swallowed. In one fluid motion, his father snatched the craft from a branch and held it tightly in his hand. He sent his son a piercing look. "I told you not to touch the tree," he said in an icy tone, and without even the slightest flinch, he crushed the ornament, sending the shattered pieces down to the ground in front of Draco. Draco stared at the remnants of his hard work, and fought his hardest not to cry in front of his father. He would save that for later, when his father had gone, and no one would be able to hear his desperate wails.
Tears were staining his cheeks now. The shield-like magic of the circle kept him from falling back, so Draco was forced to remain in his sitting position. Ginny was sprawled across his lap, her breathing as heavy as his. In front of them was Blaise, eyes wide from glee. He saw her raise her arm higher, her eyes glinting in madness before the circle beamed its crimson beacon once again.
He was fourteen now, having just returned from his year away at school. His father had beckoned him to his study, and Draco knew that no force on Earth could save him from the fate his father would subject him to. He undoubtedly heard about Harry Potter's close escape. He entered the study to find his father pacing around the room. Lucius turned on him almost immediately. "Can you believe this?" he snapped, nostrils flaring. Draco noted his father was looking rather shaky. Voldemort must've been as angry as Lucius was, and took it out on his followers. Draco braced himself, knowing full well whom the followers take their anger out on. "That damned Potter," his father growled, and Draco knew better than to interrupt a rant. His father stormed towards him. "And you!" he growled, baring his sharp canines. "You and your acquintances were outsmarted by Potter and his following - again!" He let out a strained shout, and continued pacing. Draco wisely stood his ground. "Can you imagine what went through my mind when I heard you, Crabbe, and Goyle were found on the Express floor, up to your knickers in hexes?!" Certainly not worry, Draco thought glumly. Lucius snapped his head to glare at him, as if he read Draco's mind. "You've disgraced your family; you've disgraced me." He inhaled deeply, shaking as he let the air out. "Go to your room." Draco swallowed. For any other kid, those four words would've meant their actual room, but for Draco, it meant the dungeons. He nodded once, then left the room to head down the stone staircase that led to the dungeons. When Draco finally got there, Lucius was already there waiting for him. (His father loved to make Draco walk long distances, and Apparate there himself just to show how inexperienced his son was.) He was standing in front of a large rectangular box, his so called 'coffin'. Draco approached his father with his head held high. He would not show his fear. Without a word, Lucius magicked the box lid off, revealing a nothing but emptiness. Draco discarded his outer clothing, leaving only a shirt and his pants, before climbing into the box, and assuming his usual position - face up, legs straight, and arms crossed. His father sent him a disgusted look before resealing the box. Once the darkness of the box had settled in, the true discipline began. One by one he felt the little creatures creep out of the shadows. They crawled over his body, sending shivers down his spine. Some had slime that provided an extra layer on Draco's skin as they slithered over him. Others had feelers that poked and probed him in places he couldn't even imagine he had. But those were not what he dreaded the most. After a few seconds, he felt their suckers on him - first on his legs, then over his chest and arms. The Draconii fed off of him for what felt like eternity. The box was steadily growing cold, and he felt his very life being sucked out of him. His father left him there for two days.
Ginny was crying now. Draco wondered if she saw what he saw, though he didn't have to ask considering the way she held herself. She was still over his lap, her hands gripping her arms while tears fell from her scrunched-up eyes. His tears mixed with hers. Gingerly, he brought his head up to glare at Blaise, who looked bent on pleasure. There were so many things he wanted to call, throw at, and do to her that it was slightly overwhelming. But he couldn't voice any one of these, for before he knew it, the circle gained color again - though it was not the red he'd come to hate, but a light, almost relaxing hue of blue.
"Hold still," his mother cooed. She struggled to fix Draco's shirt as he couldn't keep still. His body was just aching to move around, and, being only three years old, it was hard to argue. "Sweetie," his mother giggled, gently tugging the collars of his shirt. "You're going to wear yourself out if you don't calm down. Now hold still while I finish buttoning up your new shirt." Draco grinned boyishly at the mention of his new gift. His birthday was just a day ago, and the shirt his mother was currently struggling to put on, was his favorite present. Naturally, it was from her. "There," said Narcissa, stepping back to admire her baby boy. He managed to remain still for a second or two, before hopping off the stool she placed him on and tearing off towards the picnic a House Elf had just set up. Narcissa marveled at the energy he had, and laughed when Draco got hold of his favorite sandwich. She sat on the blanket prepared for them, and watched as Draco tackled the ham and cheese. By the end of it, most of the cheese had found it's way to his cheeks. She giggled and reached out to touch his face gingerly, smiling in content. "You know," she said on random, "you look great in black."
The blue hue shifted to a deep red.
It was Valentine's Day, second year. Draco hadn't gotten a Valentine's - not even from Pansy. Even Crabbe and Goyle received one (nevermind that it was from the other)! He stalked off towards his next class, only to find Potter pinned to the ground by one of those gruff Cupid things. It was holding something red. Draco's anger flared. Of course he'd get a Valentine! Nearly growling, Draco's eyes searched the gathering crowd for the culprit. Then he saw her; Eloise Midg-something or the other. She was shaking like a leaf, trying desperately to hide herself from Harry's view. Her face was burning a bright red; it wasn't hard to tell who sent the Valentine. Suddenly something (other than the Valentine) red caught his eye. The newest Weasley to come to Hogwarts - Ginger or Jenny or something. She stood amongst the crowd, trying to push her way to get to her class. An evil thought entered his mind. As the little Weasley made her way across them, he shouted, as loud as he could, "I don't think Potter liked your poem much!", and saw her face turn bright red, scandalized. He grinned to himself in twisted satisfaction. If I'm going down, he thought, I'm taking everybody with me.
Blue.
Her laughter filled the empty field. She was laying on the grass now too, just a few inches from where he was. They were gazing up at the stars together; he had just pointed out the constelation Draco, claiming that it was, in fact, named after him instead of the other way around. It was a nice turn of converstation, considering how serious it was earlier. "What's that one?" Ginny asked, raising her hand to be perpendicular to the ground. She pointed at a small clump, looking slightly like a worn sweater. Draco pursed his lips in deep concentration. "Nullus Informatio," he said after a while. Ginny giggled at his accent. "What does that mean?" "No idea," he answered with a slight smile. His smile grew as Ginny was sent into another round of giggles.
Red.
There it was, just above the Professors' stands - the Snitch hovered slightly, just above the tip of Professor Sprout's hat. He didn't even bother to look to see if Potter had spotted it too; he was off in a second. He leaned forward on the broomstick, keeping his gray eyes trained on the flying Snitch. It was his last and final game - the end of his seventh year was coming steadily closer - and he wanted nothing more than to beat Potter, once and for all. His heart pumped with excitement as he grew closer. On instinct, he thrust his arm out, extending it as far as he could. Potter was no where to be seen. He couldn't believe it. He was going to win. His fingers wiggled for the Snitch, which was only just inches away. Then suddenly, it was gone. In its place, was a leather-bound hand. And in that hand, was his Snitch. He felt the pit of his stomach drop thirty feet as Potter flew from his spot behind the stands, his hand raised in the air in victory. He lost again…
Pain. Happiness. Pain. Happiness. It got to the point where it was going too fast for Draco to keep track. When he thought he couldn't take it anymore, the circle flickered once, then faded back into its original silver-gray. Draco opened his eyes, not never realizing that he had closed them in the first place. Across his lap, Ginny stirred. His pant leg was damp from her tears. Draco looked around. The circle had faded fully, and was now completely gone. He looked, and saw Blaise bent over an armchair, gasping and panting for breath. Her wand lay on the floor, forgotten. It must've gotten too much for her. An odd sort of satisfaction hit Draco. Good. Draco felt his eyes droop again, his body aching for the rest he so greatly deserved. But before he could fall back into the bed and off to sleep, the door swung open, and in came Goyle, looking slightly jumpy. He raced towards Blaise, and placed a large hand on her shoulder. "It's ready."
Aren't you proud?! I managed to whip this up in ONE day! And a school day no doubt! I have to say, I'm mighty proud of myself, considering the horrible creative rut I've been in for the past few... uh, months. I mean, even if this chatper IS a bit of a filler, it still fits in nicely. XP Anyways, notes.
- can't exactly say when the next chapter's coming out. ~_~; I didn't even know THIS chapter was coming out!
- my domain, bad-faith.net is in dire need of a host! *dies* It houses all of my Harry Potter-related sites, including Open to Interpretation, my Draco shrine.
- school's started. AP class is hell.
- did you catch the Draconii/fear of bugs reference? ^_^
- uh... hope you like? Oh, also! In the memory with Draco and Ginny looking at the stars, that's in the same scene a few chapters earlier on, before Ginny got kidnapped. =T And the stuff he said is actually Latin, and it actually does mean "No idea". *shrugs* Also, if you haven't already guessed, the red color meant 'pain', and the blue meant 'happiness'. MAJOR credit to K.A. Applegate (author of Animorphs), where I got the idea for this spiffy little method of torture. You can find it in book #33, of Tobias's (eee! My fav. character) narration. The "If I'm going down" speech Draco thought in one of the memories is a quote from Friends (Chandler to be exact). What else, what else, what else? Oh, yes! If you're wondering why that one memory (with Narcissa) is 'happy', it's because, well, he loved his mother. AND, I made her be the one to start his whole black-attire fetish thinger. Har.
Thank You's:
Joya, Faith M, Beth, Hippogriff11, and Hplova4eva.
*imitates Crush* You so totally rock!