Chapter Trigger Warnings: references to torture
Chapter 122:
Trapped
With only a few days left before Easter break, Draco finally summoned his servant back to his side. He knew they needed to set things straight, to take care of parts of the bond prior to their return. He knew if they didn't, it would be even worse for them back at the Manor.
Even being prepared for her arrival, she landed hard at his feet. Just another side effect of the bond, he supposed. Draco looked her over as he helped her up to sit at the desk chair. She looked better. As loathe as he was to admit it, he owed Longbottom.
"How are you feeling?"
"Okay. Still sore. And I definitely need to serve, Sir. T – to make up for lost time."
Draco internally winced. Even when trying to protect her, when doing something to benefit her safety, under his direct orders, no less, it was punishing her.
"Do you regret going with Longbottom?"
He saw her hesitate, before shaking her head. "No, Sir. I'm grateful for it. I do appreciate you arranging it, you allowing me to."
He gave a curt nod. "It's what needed to be done. You needed it."
"And what about now? We both know it's…what the bond wants – is going to be worse, now. Was it even worth it?"
"We'll see, won't we? Give me your arm."
She obeyed, gripping the arm of the chair with her right hand. Her grip tightened as he pressed into the bond. He pressed his free arm against her shoulder, to help keep her mostly upright.
Their suspicions were correct. Unfortunately. She needed it…harder. More firmly. Bloody hell. He swallowed hard as he pulled back.
"We were right. And to answer your question, no. I don't regret sending you with Longbottom. One or two nights a bit harsher now, so that you could have almost two weeks' respite? Gladly."
She nodded, ducking her head to him in appreciation.
"What do you need me to do, Sir?"
"You tell me. Is there anything specific you feel it specifically wants from you?"
"I can't tell specifics. Just…more. More service, more submission, more…proof, I suppose. Certainly with punishment and sex, Sir."
"Right then. But first, let me see your back. I want to see what they were able to do before I ruin it."
She nodded again, turning in the seat to remove the borrowed robe and shirt.
Two weeks without aggravation had made a difference. Especially when treated with poultices and salves…and rest. And now here he was, to open them up again.
"Thank you."
He snorted, even as his fingers gently traced some of them; some of the ones that had healed best.
"I mean it," she said, turning her head to look over her shoulder. "Thank you. I – I know it's been hard, especially recently. Yet you're still…taking care of me. More than is required. I know it isn't easy for you to – to do so."
"Easier than you think," he replied, more honestly and earnestly than perhaps he had intended.
"How bad will it be? Back at the Manor?"
"I'm not sure. Worse than it's been though. It's why I wanted to make sure we take care of what we can now – to prevent an even worse time than is…necessary."
"Will you be alright going back?"
He nodded, though she couldn't see it. "I'll do what I have to do."
"That wasn't what I asked. Sir."
He didn't reply but to continue his duty.
Immediately upon returning to the Manor, they were directed to the study, where Lucius was waiting for them.
"How has term been so far?"
"Fine, Father, all things considered."
"Things here have changed. We have multiple prisoners below. Meetings are occurring more often and infrequently – often in smaller gatherings. You will not be expected to attend all of them, but you will be expected to be in attendance when requested. As well as being welcoming and hospitable as befits a Malfoy.
"Lyons, you will be serving us and serving those who visit. I expect you to behave and take everything as befits a proper slave of the Malfoy family. Am I clear, girl?"
Ariella nodded. "Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir. Perfectly."
"You will not like what happens if you disobey…well, you know the consequences. They will be worse this time around."
"I understand, Sir."
"Draco, feel free to escort her down to the dungeons. It will be good for her to spend time where she belongs."
From the corner of his eye, Draco saw her try to contain a shudder. He didn't blame her. He didn't like that last statement either.
Draco carried a tray down the steep steps. Great. Now he was being lowered to "temporary servant" status; in his own home, no less.
Unlocking the nearest cell, he slid inside, only to stop short.
"Lovegood? Mr. Ollivander?"
He wasn't sure what he was picturing - or who, rather. He knew things were upside down right now, but when his father had mentioned prisoners...well, while he wasn't quite sure whom he was figuring would be kept locked up, it certainly wasn't these two.
"Hello, Draco. How are you?"
"Fine," he paused, his discomfort plain, especially at the neutral tone of his former peer. "What are you doing here?"
"They didn't like what my father wrote in the Quibbler, about supporting Harry Potter and the Ministry's lies. So they took me."
Draco's eyes drifted up and down her body; she wore dirty jeans and a long-sleeved striped shirt; dirt coated the sleeve's edges. Her blonde hair was matted and tangled. Turning to Mr. Ollivander, Draco saw the famed wandmaker was in even worse condition. He was much gaunter than Draco remembered; clearly he'd been tortured.
Quickly glancing over his shoulder, checking no one had visibly followed him, he finally placed the tray down and whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."