Momentarily stunned as his body was slammed hard against the concrete type wall, Draco coughed as the wind was knocked out of him. Coughing a bit, he looked over to Dedra for a minute before the snakes came wrapping around him. His eyes whipped down then up as they did so. Looking back to her again, he stared as more snakes did the same to her. Finally, his eyes went back to the Dark Lord.
Voldemort picked up Dedra, one arm supporting her back while the other held her legs; he then brought her over to the black leather chair and setting her down gently. Looking back at Draco, he retrieved a knife that immediately began burning red hot. Walking over to him, he pulled back his hood, placing the hot metal to his cheek.
While Draco appreciate the gentleness that Lord Voldemort gave to his pregnant girlfriend he was suddenly worried about himself. It seemed the Dark Lord didn't want to harm her, at least not right now. He thanked whatever higher being was up there for that. Pulling against the constricting snakes, he cursed under his breath when they didn't give any. But then his eyes were drawn to the knife held in Voldemort's bony hands; the red glow was definitely not good. When the hood was drawn away, he forced himself to hold still, but as hot blade was placed against his cheek he gave a scream of pain. Turning his head away, the smell of burning flesh filled his nose, and his arms came down protectively.
Grinning, Voldemort placed the blade away. He then looked down to Draco's arms, rolling up the long sleeve of his right one and placing the blade down onto the pale flesh for mere moments, smirking sadistically. While he did this, he then punched Draco in the chest, following up with a punch in the face, particularly in the nose. Then he brought the knife to his neck, once again not enough to leave a large burn mark, just enough to cause a burning smell and feel.
"No, nae! Please stop… Please… Don't do this to him… Don't hurt him anymore… Please, my lord… Please…" Dedra pleaded, her soft cries turning a bit louder when he punched him. Tugging against her own binds, she tried to get to her feet and walk over to him, make Voldemort stop. She didn't want to watch Draco be hurt.
As the sleeve was rolling up his arm, the cool air was followed by the burning feeling again. Draco started to scream, but ended up gasping when the punch on his chest knocked the wind from his chest again. His arms came down to his chest, raspy wheezy breaths slowly coming in and out. Somehow he found his voice as the sensitive skin of his neck was burnt. In the back of his mind, he heard Dedra's voice crying out, but he didn't know why.
Voldemort ignored Dedra's cries and pleas completely; they never did have much effect on him, even if perhaps more than other's had. Neglecting the knife, he dropped it to the ground, so that the hilt landed on and crushed Draco's foot. He then extended his arm towards the table a good ways away from Dedra, another object flowing into his hand. This item didn't burn; however, it was simply laced with nails and blades. Regarding Draco with another demon-like grin, he picked up the other arm and drove the blades and nails directly into his arm, waiting anxiously for cries of pain.
Finding a way to get to her feet, she didn't think about whether it was a good idea or not to try and go after Voldemort, but soon found it really wasn't. The snakes merely constricted around her more tightly, almost cutting off circulation. It was no surprise, this had been done to her before, only this time was wise enough to sit down and be quiet, not being brought to the point of passing out. Seeing what was done to his arm, however, caused her to scream again and try to get up. "NO! No! Stop it! Stop hurting him! Please, just stop it..."
After the knife's heavy hilt landed on his foot the pain stopped briefly and he understood her cries, they were for him. Closing his eyes for a moment, he was glad that she wasn't being harmed, being in the condition she was. The burned bits of flesh pulsed with pain, throbbing gently. When her cries stopped, Draco was relived, he didn't want to hear her pleads for him, the tone of voice she took. "Why....why are you doing this to me? To us?" Draco asked softly between pants. But then he couldn't speak because his arm was being torn up by the vicious tool. Screaming as the blood flowed down his forearm, he yanked his arm away harshly, almost falling over.
Voldemort then kneeled, surprisingly, regarding each other Draco's legs for a moment, looking for the weakest and currently most shaken. He decided not to humor either of them with an answer, quite frankly sick of Dedra's cries. "Miss Sinnott, unless you want your vocal box sliced out, you'll shut the hell up. Mr. Malfoy, you'd do well to do the same." Once again, the device was crammed against his leg mercilessly.
"Dedra....please, don't..." Draco's voice was swallowed by a hissing scream that he tried not to do. His eyes had been focused on her when the Dark Lord kneeled, but he turned away closing his eyes and facing the wall to his left. She didn't need to see his face filled with pain, he felt so weak screaming in front of her. The pain was intense and he fell to his knees, unable to hold himself up, which drew the odd tool up his leg and torn it open. It also put him face to face with Lord Voldemort.
"Are you that arrogant, young Malfoy? You cannot bear the thought of being broken down into helpless, pained cries in front of your love? So much to learn, so very fragile... almost innocent. But you aren't innocent by a long stretch, are you Malfoy? You even converted someone to your evil ways, didn't you? You even robbed someone of their innocence. Don't you feel guilty about that, young Malfoy?" he whispered teasingly, slowly removing the device from his leg as he looked at him coldly, hearing Dedra scream even more when he fell.
Head bowed softly, his hair fell around his face, and his body shook with the shuddering breaths he took. Her screams echoed on the walls, but his mind was focused on the voice slithering into his ear. Raising his chin slightly, he looked up at him when he mentioned the word 'guilty.' Draco felt guilty, yes, but not for the reasons he stated. "No, I'm not innocent, but I'm far from evil, unlike you..."
"So bold, so bold. If I am so evil, and you so not, why is it that you feel so guilty, Draco? Do share. The longer I am interested in your answer, the less pain you experience," he said coldly, roughly, and yet earnestly. Dedra's cries stopped at this, as she was thankful for a pause in his pain. "Do speak."
Suddenly his muscles twitched and he gritted his teeth in pain, grunting a little. "One can feel guilty without being evil, it happens all the time." Looking to Dedra who's cries were silences, he looked to Lord Voldemort again, "I feel it is my fault that she has became a Death Eater, that she sits there crying about me when she should worry about herself." Taking a deep breath, he lowered his eyes for a moment, staring at his damaged leg, wondering how bad it really was.
"Well, come to think of it, part of the reason she is a Death Eater at this age is because of you, but if it is any comfort her family would have required her to become one eventually anyway. And that's right, she's the one carrying a child and because you're such a weak, pathetic little creature, she's crying for you. It's so tragic... Can you not be stronger for her?" he taunted, snickering.
Dedra fought with her mind and heart not to speak on Draco's behalf, talk back to Voldemort, and tell him just how strong Draco was. She hated Voldemort degrading him like this; she would hate anyone doing it. Clenching her fists, her eyes narrowed at his back as his harsh words were quietly stated to Draco.
Glaring at him, he wished he could remove those fucking snakes. At the last question he asked, the words echoed in his mind. Those words...weak...pathetic. Words his father used and it hit him hard, bringing back childhood memories. Stronger...why wasn't he? He felt weak, bound in front of the Dark Lord, screaming in pain in front of her. His eyes flicked up to her, but not long enough that she could really see anything.
"Don't glare at me, won't have your eyes much longer," Voldemort hissed, swallowing before continuing to whisper cruel words in his ear. "Tell me how you intend on taking care of her and a little when you can't take of her alone? Does she really need to be burdened with another weakling? Something even weaker than you. And it won't even be fully human, it won't be a pureblood, Draco. It'll be frowned upon. Your father will want his own flesh and blood not omitted to your school. How will it feel, Draco?"
With much regret, Draco dropped his eyes to the wounded leg beneath him. "My child...our child will not be a weakling." He almost growled, "And if I was worried about my children being pureblood, I wouldn't have been with her in the first place." Lucius was brought up again and he took a moment before responding, "It isn't of his concern where my child goes. My...my father will disown me for being with her anyways..."
"And this doesn't bother you at all, Draco? To know your whole fortune will not be shared with her at all? How do you plan on supporting her financially, either? Because goodness knows, judging by your current state, you'll fail in supporting her emotionally and every other way thinkable."
"Money does not buy happiness...I'll manage on my own" Draco stated, but he could not find a reply for the second part. He knew he was failing her right now, but he refused to let it show how he felt. "I'm keeping you entertained, aren't I, my lord? I'm keeping you from hurting me right now, that's not failing her, is it?"
"In showing pain at all when you are hurt you display your weakness and your pathetic, failure like tendencies," he hissed in response, also dropping this tool on the floor, purposefully missing his foot. Thinking of what method to use next, he glanced over to his table. Oh, what to do...
"But...I do not beg, do I?" Draco stated, looking up to Voldemort's face once more. "I'm not begging for mercy, which is why she does it for me. My dignity and strength do not allow it..." Looking at the table, his body tightened at the morbid tools that lie on it.
"Dignity, strength? I'll rid you of what little bit you have left before this is over." Decided to walk over the table, to give him something to do, he got up and stood fully, looking down at Draco pompously. "Any other ego-stroking you feel like doing? Going to still try and show off for your girlfriend?"
Instead of verbally answering, he shook his head a bit, getting some of his hair out of his face. He found the kneeling position to be irritating and he struggled to stand again, grunting in pain as his torn leg protested. Draco leaned against the wall for support and wanted to look over to Dedra for help, but couldn't do it. Looking over there pleadingly would just make it worse, so he raised his head up to the ceiling, closing his eyes. That was also to keep him from seeing whatever tool Lord Voldemort brought back, he'd rather not know before hand.