"I didn't think so," Voldemort smirked, his reply plain and conceited. "Can't even look at her, can you, you weakling?" the cruel Lord teased, looking over his table pensively. He then retrieved a purple bottle, a double-edged blade, something that resembled a sort of powder, and walked over to Draco once more. "I really should make you more used to this, since you're so weak and all. I should perhaps even be more creative... But alas, here I am, taking pity on you..." Nearing Draco once again, he was all the more amused to see he couldn't stand. He then placed some of the powder in the palm of his hand, and then placed it to Draco's leg wounds, expecting quite an interesting reaction of many outbreaks of screams and cries of pain. The powder itself did not harm uncut skin, but once inside, it attacked all feeling cells lining the wound.
Soft, jade eyes observed the fallen victim as he struggled to try and get to his feet; she leaned forward in the chair before falling back as he leaned onto the wall. Dedra once again tried to fight her bonds, her eyes beginning to become watery and wet, threatening teardrops. Watching him close his eyes, she soon followed suit, not watching Voldemort bring over the powder, and wanting to shut her ears so she couldn't hear the reaction to it. As her eyes were shut, tears were forced out, streaming down her face silently.
"I choose not to...she doesn't need to see my face in pain..." Draco ground out painfully. Pity? If this is pity than I can't wait to see your wrath. He thought sarcastically, swallowing hard. In truth he was worried about what would come next, what Lord Voldemort would think up. Draco smelled the power on the air far before it hit his leg and, for a moment, he thought nothing was happening. But then there was a burning sensation that started low and dull. In grew in intensity and he began to groan under his breath in pain. Then the pain came ten fold and he cried out lowly, his leg becoming weak and he nearly fell again.
He then pulled out the double edge blade, surveying Draco as he pondered what he felt like doing next. Grinning, he then fumbled with Draco's robes until his shirt was exposed, and then used the blade to remove most of it. With that, he immediately began cutting two inch wide, half an inch deep cuts along his chest. So soon as he started he snapped his fingers and pointed to Dedra's chair, chains suddenly uprooting from it and pinning her to the chair as the snakes ceased their hold upon her and slithered back over to Voldemort.
Draco felt the cool air on his front and he looked down to see that the majority of his shirt was gone. When he saw the sharp blade come down on his chest, he wished he hadn't looked. While he couldn't separate his arms or legs, Draco felt stupid to not do something to protect himself and he drew his arms down to cover his exposed chest. As the blade made it biting cuts, he gave moans of pain. The cuts were not nearly as bad as the first wounds he'd received. When Lord Voldemort turned to chain Dedra to the chair, he knocked the blade from his hand, the metal echoing as it hit the floor.
So I haven't rendered him free of bravery. We'll see how he reacts to this. Shrugging his broad shoulders plainly, Voldemort looked to Draco as though stating, "Very well, if you insist," and then went to pick up the blade, proceeding to walk over to Dedra. Watching with a smirk as she flinched and squirmed helplessly against the bonds of the chains, he casually ran the sharpest part of the two blades up and down her arm, though not yet cutting. The blade was then glazed over her chest and stomach, pointedly looking at Draco as he did so, threatening him.
The shrug of Lord Voldemort's shoulders seemed odd to Draco, he figured that the Dark Lord would be utterly pissed. Watching as he picked up the blade and walked back to the table, he suddenly turned to Dedra. She started fighting the bond, frightened to death of what would come. "No! Don't harm her! Please leave her alone, my lord!" Draco shouted, scared for her safety. Struggling against the bonds hard, the blood flowed down his chest faster.
A cruel grin upon his countenance, Voldemort moved the blade back to her arm, giving it a quick slice, but stopping. "Not begging, are you Draco?" he inquired, feigning shock. "I thought she did your begging for you?" Laughing, Voldemort simply turned and flicked the blade in a quick throw, sending it into Draco's upper arm, intending on wedging it in deep.
Crying out softly as she was sliced, she tried to recoil her hand and arm, whimpering quietly and feebly. Watching the Dark Lord spin around and suddenly fling the blade in Draco's direction, her eyes widened in terror as he sent it into his arm, more tears racing down her face. Why was he hurting Draco, anyway? What had he done?
"I do not beg for myself. I plead for her safety and our child's safety, not my own..." Draco stated, angered by his statements. The cruel laughter that filled his ears made him shudder violently, it slide down his spine like snot. "Stop!" He yelled as the single cut was made on her arm, but his anger turned to surprise as the blade came flying toward him. "Oh shit!" he stated through clenched jaws as the blade almost went through his arm. Fortunately it didn't penetrate his chest, since his arms were in front of his chest.
"You see, Draco, talking back to me isn't truly wise. It only gets people hurt. And who knows, it may not be only you that ends up hurting." Voldemort was aware Draco knew he was referring to Dedra, so he didn't feel the need to elaborate. Neglecting Dedra for the time being, he strolled over to Draco lackadaisically once again, the purple bottle still in hand. This time he popped off the top of it, revealing some sort of salt or acid-looking concoction, throwing it onto the open chest wounds and his arm. After this, he once again awaited expression of torture, jerking out the blade awkwardly, looking at Draco for the first time and realizing just how bloodied up he was becoming.
"No, please! Stop it! Don't do that to him! Please, no more!" Dedra screamed out frantically, causing her arms to be rubbed red with resistance and struggle against the chains and chair. "Please… No more, no more…" he voice trailed off as she was soon crying hysterically, unable to really speak properly or audibly. Her eyes gradually became more and more red, and even more saturated with tears.
Flashing his eyes between the Dark Lord and Dedra, he nodded solemnly, understanding the name of the game. As long as he was a good little whipping boy, she wouldn't be harmed, at least for the most part. Draco struggled against himself to not fight back, he couldn't. If he tried to fight back or talk smartly, Lord Voldemort would just hurt her instead. Not knowing what was in the purple color bottle, he waited for it to splash on his flesh, like he thought it would. When it did, the pain was horrible, burning his entire chest and he shouted wordlessly. Frantically, he used his arms and hands to try to wipe off the substance, trying to remove it from his wounds. Vaguely, he heard her cries too and it made it worse to hear them.
Simply listening to both of their screams in silence for the longest time, he once again began to plan his next move. Should he continue with this? Or should he think of something else horrid to bring about to Draco? Yes, something else, something else, but what? More things, yes. Not just one. Making his wand visible once again, Voldemort lazily chucked the double-bladed knife elsewhere, eyeing Draco and continuing to listen to both cries. "What to do..."
The burning continued and eventually the majority of the pain subsided, although it did not disappear. Instead, it lowered to a throbbing ache over the surface of his chest. His screams turned into dry coughing, grunting with the effort it took for each breath. With his screams ending all he heard was hers, her yells of pleads for his suffering to stop, her sobs of anguish for him. "Don't cry over me...Dedra...I can't bear it...." Draco groaned to her, leaning his cheek against the cool stone.
Voldemort had only just begun his experimenting with Draco's pain tolerance, not yet satisfied with the level of pain Draco was experiencing. He could still talk to her, still acknowledge her. Yes, much, much more would be required still. Holding his wand firmly in the hand that did not bear the bottle, he set the bottle down next to the other fallen devices, muttering "Crucio," plainly before glancing over his shoulder to Dedra, snickering. She thought he was in pain before? Ha.
Dedra knew something awful was coming when Voldemort pulled out his wand; she knew first hand. Her eyes widened even more, shocked and horrified, screaming and sobbing at the top of her lungs as she almost succeeded in trying to lift the heavy chair from the ground before falling back. "NO! STOP IT!" Her throat began to ache from screaming so loudly for so long, but it didn't matter. It was just a part of the vicious cycle of agony until Voldemort stopped his cruel acts. Dedra's vision became blurred by tears, she unable to wipe them away, and almost having no mind to. If she did so, she could more clearly see what was happening.
Draco didn't see the Dark Lord pull out his wand, he was too focused on removing the burning substance from his body without spilling into his leg wound. But Dedra's sudden screams alerted him to the danger and he looked up just in time to see Voldemort's lips form the curse's words. In the back of Draco's mind, he thought, At least it's something I'm familiar with... right as the spell hit him. His father used Crucio on him as a child, when he wasn't minding well. Not for very long at first, just a brief taste. But the subsequent times were longer, more painful. So, Draco had an advantage here, he was fairly use to Crucio. At first, he remained standing, his body clenching as the pain ripped through him.
Unamused by this, Voldemort ceased the curse and sighed. This was becoming boring. How was it the other things he had done caused more pain than a spell that was to leave you twitching on the floor? Figuring he'd give himself time to think about the future and other methods, he lazily waved his wand and the snakes immediately ceased their constricting grip around him, probably causing him to fall the floor with relief and lack of support they'd partly provided.
Breathing heavily and sparsely, Dedra observed hopefully as the snakes released Draco from their hold, sniffing occasionally, and blinking tears out of her eyes. What was Voldemort doing? Hopefully not something worse, hopefully now he'd let Draco go, perhaps let them both go.
Panting as the spell ended, he fell forward with his connected hands, being on his hands and knees now. Draco smirked to himself with the knowledge that he'd put a kink in Lord Voldemort's plans, however small. He expected something worse to come now, figuring that the Dark Lord would somewhat irritated how easily Draco took the spell. Inwardly, he knew his father didn't mean for him to become use to the spell, but he had. What he didn't expect was the snakes that had been so tightly wrapped around his wrist to disappear. Sitting back on his heel, then rising, he rubbed the raw skin around them. He found himself angry at the small shaking in his hands, fisting them at his sides.
"You're dismissed for now," Voldemort stated plainly, unemotionally. Perhaps Draco would be a bit more challenging than he thought he would, even if not much. Waving his hand, he shooed Draco from the room, insisting that he leave the underground area at once.