Chapter Trigger Warnings: torture, dubious/non-consent
Chapter 125:
Proving Positions
Draco landed with a thud inside his servant's room. He didn't think he'd ever been more grateful – to her or for the bond – than in that moment; the room and the bond allowed for a quick and private escape.
"Sir?"
"Fine," he grunted out.
"How can I help you, Sir?"
"I said, I'm fine," he snapped. He hadn't meant to. He swallowed hard as he stood as steadily as he could. He hated seeing her flinch because of him.
"Start the bath. I'll be in shortly," he instructed. It was something simple she could do to serve him – help fulfil the bond's requirements without much effort.
She slipped into the loo and he took the time while she was out of sight to breathe as deeply as he could – get himself back to some semblance of normalcy. His heart was racing and his head pounding. He shucked off the heavy robes, throwing them over the back of the desk chair. Merlin – he didn't know whether it was worse at the Manor, a Raid, or at Hogwarts anymore. Especially with the Dementors starting to close in on the latter, even with Professors' defences.
"Sir? It's ready for you."
He nodded curtly, striding into the adjacent room. Automatically, his hands went to his tie, and he began tugging the loop when he realized another small way to help keep the bond happy.
"Undress me."
He saw her eyes widen minutely, but she came over to him. She refused to look up at his face. Her fingers – shaking just slightly – undid the buttons on his shirt. He slid it off, tossing it aside.
Her hands shook worse as they reached for his waist. She took a step closer and knelt. Draco swallowed hard, even as his grey eyes widened. She thought he wanted…that the bond wanted…(well, the bond always wanted that from her, if he was being honest) – but that she thought he'd ask that of her without any sort of warning. He knew he could but that didn't mean he would if he could help it.
He reached down, grabbing her wrists. She froze, and allowed herself to be pulled back to her feet.
"Not now. Just undress me for the bath."
She nodded. "Yes, Sir."
She worked quickly on his belt and trousers. He could see the strained relief.
"Sir? Do you need me to – "
" – no," he said quickly, cutting her off. "You can clean up the clothes and go back to whatever you were doing before I came in."
"I'm sorry, Sir," she said after a moment. "For whatever happened."
Draco closed his eyes, sighing as the hot water helped provide some immediate relief. He leaned his head back, trying to just forget, even for just a short while, about the horrors lurking in his house and school.
Draco grimaced, but didn't raise his wand, even as the Dark Lord and his Aunt Bella both raised theirs. To his surprise, his father also raised his wand. Draco's fingers itched to pull out his wand, despite knowing it would do no good. So he braced himself.
Except the curse didn't come.
"Now is your chance to prove yourself, son. Go ahead – show us what you've learned."
Before he could ask for clarification, Ariella was on the floor between them. His father must have summoned her. Wisely, she didn't say a word.
Shielding his mind best he knew how, Draco raised his wand.
"Crucio!"
He made sure not to react as she screamed, writhing on the floor. He knew she (most likely) wasn't in as much pain as she appeared, but that didn't mean it was bearable to watch. He also knew the Dark Lord – not to mention his father – would rifle through his thoughts later. He had to mean it, had to want to hurt her.
"Move on, Draco. Surely that's not the only way you know to punish her; you remind her of her place?"
His felt a chill run through his body as he realized the meaning behind the words. What he was supposed to do – to 'prove' – here. In front of his father, his aunt – in front of all these people.
He also knew he couldn't say no.
So he simply nodded once curtly, coming to kneel next to where she lay panting. Without pause, he stripped the old robe from her shaking body, causing her to glance up at him. Ariella gave him the subtlest of nods, showing she understood.
He laid the robe down and pushed her on top of it. The only kindness he could show right now. He was lucky to find she was in old clothes of his. He shifted to remove them when they disappeared beneath his fingertips. Glancing up, Draco saw his father lowering his wand.
As Draco went to move over her, however, he realized that even with the robe, the old tiles would hurt her back, possibly tear open her scars. And as much as he knew some others would enjoy seeing that, he couldn't bring himself to do that to her.
So he grabbed Ariella's shoulder, forcefully rolling her onto her stomach. Then, relying on his own robe to give him as much privacy as possible, he unbuckled his trousers, pulled her hips up, her legs open, and swiftly entered her.
She let out a hoarse scream beneath him, once again leaving him wondering how much actual pain she was in. He gripped her hips tightly, grateful she didn't fight him, though he could feel her shaking.
Draco continued to thrust into her, trying his best to block out those around him. He hated that he was being forced to do this to her – that she was being forced through this. It was barbaric and wrong. But things would be much worse if they didn't cooperate, didn't follow orders. And he didn't want to think about what state she'd be in if someone else was allowed to help with this – allowed to…show him how to 'properly' own her.
He allowed himself to reach beneath her and squeeze her breasts. She tried to keep her balance. It didn't end well once someone threw a hex at her. He was forced to adjust himself, his angle as she fell forward. He could hear her hoarse screams. He bent forward further, over her back - causing him to (accidentally) thrust deeper, and unbidden groan to escape – and whispered a single word in her ear.
"Breathe."
Lucius was less than satisfied by his son's performance. By the looks of it, so was Bellatrix. He rarely agreed with his sister-in-law, but on this, they did. He was far too soft on her. However, Lucius also knew a losing battle when he saw one. Draco had too much of his mother in him. He had a feeling no matter what he did at this point, this would be one matter father and son would forever disagree on – much to his displeasure.
Still – even if he didn't agree with the methods, Draco was indeed keeping his word. He was providing proof of being capable of taking care of the bond's demands. It may not be how Lucius approved of, but there was – fortunately or unfortunately – no doubt that Draco was indeed 'mastering' their servant.
Draco dragged his stupefied servant to his room. He knew she wouldn't have been able to get there on her own. He waited until the door was locked before removing the spell.
It took her a moment to wake. Draco watched as she tried to curl in on herself. She rubbed at her eyes, looking around wildly until she realized where they were – and who was with her.
"Sir?"
"How are you feeling?"
She just shook her head. "I'm sorry, Sir."
"We knew it was only a matter of time. I'm only surprised it took this long."
She nodded. Draco could see her body trembling, even if she didn't fully realize it.
"Do you want to wash?"
She nodded again, flinching as he began to move towards her. He froze.
"Sorry, Sir. I'm not scared of you. I promise."
He wanted to believe her. But something was nagging at him, given everything.
He started towards her again. He was happy when she didn't flinch as violently this time. She let him approach, let him assist her with getting to the loo.
"I'm sorry. I tried my best not to – "
" – I know, Sir," she said, cutting him off. The bond stung her, but she continued anyway. "I don't blame you. I can't. You said it yourself, Sir – it was bound to happen. I – I'm sorry, Sir."
"Don't. We can't blame each other. It won't do any good," he said, depositing her into his large bath.
"Draco?"
He looked up.
"What happens now?"
"Now, hopefully, they'll leave us be for a while. In the meantime, we'll be returning to Hogwarts. Keep our heads down as much as possible. Continue to be as…unobtrusive as possible."