Chapter Trigger Warnings: torture

Chapter 124:

Escaped Aftermath

Ariella groaned, moving slowly and she blinked, fog still clouding her mind. She shifted, feeling a light weight over her body. She realized she lay on her stomach. She blinked again, grateful the light was dim. In fact, the only light seemed to be coming from a small orb to her left.

She turned her head to see Draco sitting up against the headboard, propped up by pillows, rewrapping his left forearm and wrist. He had scratches on his face, and she could see the outline of more bandages under his shirt.

"You're hurt," she said, grimacing as his gaze shifted to her. Merlin, that was a stupid statement. Of course, he was.

"I am," he replied simply. "But you're hurt far worse."

"I – I wasn't – "

" – I know you weren't."

She blinked again. Everything felt heavy and fuzzy. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?" he eyed her carefully, almost able to see as her mind caught up with everything and brought back recent events in a rush.

"Answer me. Did you help them escape?"

"Yes, my lord," she replied, trembling as red eyes bore into her.

She screamed as the Cruciatus hit her.

"So. They failed because of you."

She just nodded.

"Why?"

"You – you said to befriend him. Help him."

"I never told you to ensure he escape from me. Yet you dared to presume – "

"I wouldn't! I'm sorry, my lord. I – I thought it best if he believed me to still support him. Just in case."

"Who do you serve, girl?"

"My owners and you, my lord."

He grinned frighteningly. "Precisely."

"I – I remember my feeling like my insides were being twisted. And a lot of pain on my back, though I don't – "

" – he all but flayed open your back."

She looked up at her young master, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry."

Draco jerked a bit in surprise. "For what?"

"For this. You were hurt because of me."

Draco sat up a bit, wincing at the movement.

"I was not. I was hurt for allowing Potter and his friends to get away. For displeasing the Dark Lord. My injuries – and my parents' – are not your fault."

"But if I hadn't helped them, then they'd have – "

" – still found a way. It's Potter."

She swallowed hard.

"This isn't your doing. Now, will you – "

" – you're awake. Finally," a voice interrupted from the doorway.

Next thing she knew, Ariella was being grabbed by her shoulder and pulled over onto her back. She screamed. No noise came out.

Draco jerked up. "Father, is that necessary?"

"If it weren't for her, we would be back in the Dark Lord's favour." He leaned forward. "How did you get the key?"

"I – I took it, Sir." Her voice wavered, but she didn't dare look up towards her younger master.

"You dared to betray us like that? After all we have done for you? You put your owning family at risk so save your so-called friend? An enemy of the Dark Lord, no less?"

Wisely, she just stayed silent this time.

"Why are you in my son's bed?" When Ariella shook her head, he pushed her down into the bed. "Answer me."

"Father, if – "

" – quiet, Draco."

"I thought it best if – if I stayed closer to him. And that it could – maybe – help me recover faster."

"You presumed yet again to know better than your superiors?"

She didn't answer. Draco could clearly read the fear and pain in her eyes as she tried to avoid looking directly up at his father.

"On your bed, you will find what I want you to serve in at our gathering tomorrow night. You will report to the parlour room at exactly eight. Provided you serve well, you will be permitted to accompany my son back to Hogwarts. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir. Of – of course, Sir."

"What am I to you?"

"My – my Master."

Draco sucked in a sharp breath despite himself, earning him a look of warning from his father. Never, in all the years she'd worked for them, had he ever heard her address any of them by those titles.

"Good. Do better. I will not tolerate such a betrayal and disservice again. I guarantee if you pull a stunt like that again, it will be the last thing you remember."

"Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir."

Lucius swept out of his son's room, leaving a chill behind.

Neither moved for a few solid minutes. Slowly, Draco reached for her far shoulder with his good arm. She flinched violently. He tried again, wanting to get his injured servant off her back as soon as possible.

She whimpered as he moved her. He wondered if she even realized what was happening right now. Draco had no doubt his father would make good on his threat if she were to step (so) out of line again.

Draco sat in "Ariella's" private room at school, waiting – more anxiously than he cared to admit – for her to request him. He hoped she would, at least. He didn't like the alternative of her staying behind for even longer. Especially given his father's ire.

He must have fallen asleep, however, for the next thing he remembered was receiving the pulsing request. Immediately, he accepted, standing as she landed in front of him. He held out his hand, only to realize the state she was in.

Covered in a grimy slip, she was breathing and bleeding heavily.

"Merlin. What happened?"

She was shaking her head. He could see tear tracks on her cheeks.

He moved to help her, only to see her shaking further. He moved to lift her up, regardless, bringing her into the loo.

"How can I help?"

She shook her head.

"Ariella, you're hurt. Badly. How can I – "

" – stop coddling me!"

Draco jerked back. "Excuse me?"

"I can take it. I can serve you better. I swear, Sir. But you can't…I can't keep being coddled."

"Is that you saying those words? Or the bond?"

She paused for only a moment, wiping at her eyes. "Both."

Swallowing hard, he rose. "Wash up. Then report back to the room."

Returning to the main room himself, he clenched his jaw. What the bloody hell? Where in Merlin's name was this even coming from?

He heard the door open and turned to see her standing there, holding a towel.

"You can dry off."

She wrapped the towel around her, giving a small nod in thanks.

"What's this all about now?" he inquired, moving to the desk chair. She sat across from him on the edge of the bed.

"I can be better, Sir."

"Is this about what my Father said? We've spoken about this. You're serving me how I want you to…" he trailed off as she shook her head.

"It isn't good enough."

"Sorry? Are you saying my orders aren't good enough for you?"

"No! I just…they're not enough, Sir. I'm not doing enough. Certainly not properly."

"What is this – this properly. Aren't you serving me properly just by obeying me?"

She just shook her head, fresh tears appearing. "I don't think so."

Draco closed his eyes. He breathed in sharply. He couldn't afford to lose his temper now.

He felt her shift and knew before he even opened his eyes, she'd (finally) ended up on her knees.

"I can take more, Sir. I can do more. And I – I don't need to be cared for after punishment. Defeats the purpose, don't you think?"

His grey eyes shot open as realization hit him. He didn't help her up – not yet – but simply grabbed her arm and pressed into the bond.

It was disjointed. Contradicting even itself. It wasn't usually like this. Draco didn't understand why – the bond followed a specific hierarchy of orders for a reason. However, one thing was clear to him: the bond was taking his father's side. It didn't like how quickly he jumped to helping her, to healing her.

That, at least, was something he could work on. He didn't like it. But he could work on it.