Chapter 1: Escaping
Disclaimer: I do not own anything…the almighty J.K. Rowling does. She owns EVERYTHING…
Flashback
"Son, toughen up! Malfoy's do not fail and most certainly do not cry!"
"Please, Father, I'll do better! Please, just don't!"
"Despicable…a Malfoy…begging…Crucio!"
End of Flashback
Draco still remembered the intense pain in his muscles the first time his father punished him. "It's all for your own good, son. You'll thank me, and so will the Dark Lord." Humph. Dark Lord. No matter what he went through, he would rather kill himself than become a Death Eater. And at this rate, he just might kill himself anyway. He could not wait much longer for the magical dream catcher that would lock up those nightmares. He had been expecting it last night, but the owl that was supposed to send it to him had fallen sick. There were no substitute owls, so he had to wait. Damn owls.
Here he sat in his dorm room at Hogwarts, at the beginning of his last year here. He had placed silencing and locking charms on the curtains, because he knew he screamed in his sleep, and he did not want anyone coming to treat him like bloody Potter. He was sweaty from his nightmare, and his steel knife, Drakstile, was his only relief. She was always there when he needed to escape from this living hell. He pressed it down, gently but firmly, onto his bicep, sighing contently as the crimson blood ran freely down his arm, onto his bed. His blood had already stained his sheets permanently, and it was only the first night of the school year.
Potter was probably sleeping contently in his warm Gryffindor Tower, after a day of braveness, popularity, and all that shit. He had had a lame day. Pansy had been all over him, and Blaise was opinionated with nonsense his father was engraving into his mind. Draco knew Blaise would become a Death Eater, no doubt. He, and every other Slytherin, had received hateful glares from all the Gryffindors. Except, much to his surprise, the Golden Trio. Weasel and Granger had been acting all lovey-dovey, so they were too busy snogging each other to hate him. Potter, on the other hand, had seemed distant all day, even during Potions, where he had turned his hair purple and got a lecture from Snape in front of the class. He had caught Har-Potter wat was that? Was I really just about to call him Harry glancing at him. They were not angry looks, Potter just seemed to be looking at him. Draco still did not know what to think of this.
He was reliving his life—starting with age seven. What a horrible year. He had been in a race with his peers, and had been feeling nauseas, therefore losing the race. His father had bet on him, and when he lost…he did not want to remember his nightmare (A/N: That is the flashback you saw at the beginning of the chapter). Each night he relived each punishment his dad gave him—and there were plenty of those. His father had continued to beat him at home until fifth year, until when Lucius was caught beating him in a restaurant in Diagon Alley. They took him away, and Draco bitterly recalled how happy he had been, to be just with his mother. He had not even thought of, at that time, why his mother had never stopped Lucius from performing the Unforgivables on him.
A single tear escaped his eye, and was brushed away by, what Draco thought, the dull end of the knife. Instead, he felt the familiar, but pleasurable pain, only this time it was right by his nose.
"Shit!" He whispered into the air. He couldn't have anyone knowing what he did to himself, and he was not sure if the charm that covered up his other wounds would last. If anyone knew, it would ruin his image, he would never get any respect, and worst, he would get pity. That was the last thing he wanted. Comfort, possibly. Pity, absolutely not.
I'll just…wear a band-aid and say that I have a zit. If anyone makes fun of me, I will tell them that mature wizards get them, and whoever it is must be immature. I may be weak, but I will not be made fun of. My life is difficult enough as it is.
He slid the knife back into its drawer and locked it in. A look at the clock informed him that it was 1:34 am. I have to sleep. If I don't, they'll get worried, then nosy. Can't have that. They might find out about everything. I don't need their pity!
He lay down on his silk bed. He had ordered it specially, and had had some house-elves move it in before Hogwarts started. It had been 3,000 on his mother's credit card. His body tensed up with the thought of his mother. The happiness he had felt when Child Welfare took his dad away had been diminished soon after coming back to the Malfoy Manor after his school vacation.
Flashback
"Draco, honey, you should take a bath. You're filthy." Narcissa said in her singsong voice.
"Okay, mom." He turned away his mother and shouted to a passing house-elf," Hey, you! Get the water going in the bath on the second floor!"
"Oh no, sweetie. I will get that." Narcissa replied anxiously.
I wonder why she looked so anxious…Draco thought.
"Mother, I'm fifteen!"
"And I am your mother! I like to act like it sometimes!"
Funny. She never thought that before…Draco thought, getting uneasy.
"Is there something wrong with the faucet? The house-elves will get it, not you."
"No, no, dear. Just come with me and get ready."
"Fine." Draco slinked up the staircase, admiring the grand designs of snakes, his mother following closely behind him.
Once in the bathroom, Narcissa sauntered over to the tub, turned the faucet on, and watched as the tub began to fill, slowly. She seemed hypnotized.
Breaking out of her trance, she ordered Draco to get ready for his bath—undress.
End of Flashback
Draco shuddered at that thought, that he could have ever been so naïve. Looking at his pale, exhausted reflection in his mirror, he felt a wave of tears come on. Determined not to cry, he forced himself to go back to remembering, though he was not even sure of how that helped.
Flashback
"Undress? In front of you?" Draco Malfoy was very uncomfortable with his body, especially since he had been mutilating himself.
"Please. I am your mother! If you need help…" She stalked over to him. His face paled when he saw something in her eyes…lust.
He was, unfortunately for himself, immobilized because of his shock of what was happening. Narcissa took advantage of this, and began to slip his shirt off, sucking his neck once it was off, mumbling about how she never got any action from Lucius.
Finally, Draco came out of shock, and pushed his mother off him. With a shocked expression on his face, and a hickey on his neck, he started towards the door.
"Oh no you don't. I have not had any pleasure in a year. I know just as many curses as your father. You do not want to? Too bad." With that, an army of house-elves charged into the room, obviously on her cue. Some of them turned off the water, then they tackled him, and though he fought back, there were too many of them. They pinned him to the wall, and immediately ten more house-elves came in and put shackles on his ankles, wrists, and around his waist.
"Mother! No!" Even as he said this, he knew it would not work. He was going to be…no. He could not give in to being raped. He would fight. He was not sure how he would, but his mom was a clever bitch, and he did not have much time if he wanted to get away with his virginity.
End of Flashback
Draco paused, thinking that even after what had happened to him, he had still had hope, even when his mother had been swiftly advancing on him. I don't have that hope anymore. I only live to make sure I get revenge.
Flashback
Since his shirt was already off, his mother was eying him, probably wondering why he had butchered his torso. If she had wondered, she completely gave up on figuring it out, because as soon as the house-elves left the room, she had her pasty lips on his, ruining any thoughts he had had of escape. He did his best to keep his lips tightly shut, but she kept pushing her tongue in-between his lips. Eventually, she pressed her tongue in. Then, she swirled her tongue around his inside cheek. If this were anyone else, he would have been delighted as she swept her tongue across his. However, it made him sick.
"Disgusting! She tastes like she just ate a bowl of salt!" Draco thought, fighting back nausea.
She plucked her lips away from his, and he gave a revolted snort. She slapped him—hard.
"Ow!"
"Please me willingly, and the shackles go." He thought about this. Would it be worse to sleep with my mother, or to be raped?
"No. Way."
"Your decision." Yes, it was mine. I would rather tell people that I lost my virginity to my mother because she is a rapist than to tell them that I slept with her.
She pounced on him, which is unbelievable, considering that Draco was chained to the wall standing up.
"Give me a hickey," his mother commanded, roughly jamming his head into the crook of her neck.
Draco pulled away, appalled, then scoffed, "You expect me to do that willingly?"
"Fine," she growled harshly, hopping off him.
She ripped his pants and boxers off in one pull, her frown increasing when she saw that he was not the least bit aroused. He felt very vulnerable, and was on uneasy when he thought of what was sure to come.
"I will change that," Narcissa stated, more to herself, convincing herself that she would make him grow hard. Fat chance, Draco thought sourly.
She "seductively" slipped out of her skirt, leaving her in blue, lacy panties. A thong, Draco noticed. With horror, he realized she must have been planning this.
She unbuttoned her blouse, never taking her eyes off him, trying to look seductive. She looked below his waistline from time to time, seeing if he was hard. No such luck.
She took some scissors, which he had not noticed earlier, and cut her panties down the middle. He could feel vomit in the back of his throat when he saw her bush. She proceeded to unclasp her bra, then, spreading out her legs slightly, she rubbed it back and forth between her legs.
If that did anything, it made him even less hard.
She apparently gave up trying to make him hard, and just strolled over to him. The wall he was shackled to began to become more horizontal, until he was almost lying down. She picked up his…thing…and aligned herself so that when she laid down on him, he was in her. It was the most unpleasant thing Draco had ever gone through; he would give anything to be under Crucio right now.
"Finally!" she moaned.
She continued by doing a push-up, and then dropping herself onto Draco, so that he pushed into her hard. That freaking bitch likes it, Draco thought.
She pushed out of him, and grasped his limp cock, her inch-long nails causing him to shriek out in pain. Upset that he was not aroused she kicked him in the stomach and stormed out of the room, ordering two house-elves to unshackle him.
End of Flashback
Draco let the tears flow freely as he remembered crawling to his room and locking the door. He sobbed even harder when he thought of how his mother had done that many times, and he could never manage to fight back—not because he didn't want to, but because he had been getting weaker due to hisblood loss (But cutting feels so good!). Not to mention, he hardly ever ate anymore.
He glanced at the clock—2:09. I have to sleep—no one can get suspicious.
He pulled out Drakstile, her steel glinting elegantly in the moonlight. He twiddled her in his hands, scraping his fingers with her blade. He was tempted to cuddle next to her, like a stuffed animal, but thought the better of it, and put her away. He put a cleaning charm on his bed sheets, but there was still a hint of crimson in certain spots on his bed. It looked odd, like there should be crimson tint all over the sheet. I can do that…
For lack of a Dreamless Sleep Potion, he settled on curling into a fetal position under his blanket, thinking of Draktile, and how she would soon help him escape from his nightmare of a life. Didn't work…he relived the metal spikes on his father's belt grinding into his back.
A/N: I'm not really sure where this is going, but I have some ideas. Please review! btw, flames are useless if all you say is: "I hate your story!". Please, make 'em useful!