Disclaimer: It all belongs to the great JK Rowling.
Author's Note: Using a new formatting method, the other one looked a bit weird.
Anyway, a very big thank you to all my reviewers! Your kind words really encourage me to continue writing and to try to do my best. Hope you'll like this chapter. Big hugs for everyone!
Chapter 11
He dreamed.
Amidst all his painful memories, all his disappointments, all the hurt that had damaged and wounded him, his mind had somehow picked this one special scene out for him, wrapped it up, and presented it to him with a bowtie on a platter.
He knew he was dreaming, and while this was a dream he had had many times in the past, it had not come to haunt him for some time now.
Still, he could not help but feel the latent emotion bubble up within him, could not help feeling as if all of this was happening right now, right here in this dark dank room.
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A voice hissed, "Your father has…disappointed me."
"My…my lord," he whimpered, frightened. For despite everyone saying that he was up to his eyeballs in dark magic, despite him corroborating what they had said lustily and arrogantly; in truth the closest he had ever gotten to dark magic was watching the fake Moody perform the Unforgivables on a spider. This was the first time he had ever met Lord Voldemort, leader of the Death Eaters, and Scourge of wizarding Britain.
"Well?" that high, cold voice continued, "What do you have to say for yourself? You Malfoys have completely ruined my plans, I should have known you were useless."
"My Lord it won't happen again! I…I promise…I'll do all I can to right my father's wrongs."
The Dark Lord's horrifying red eyes glinted, "That may be…but a little…torture never hurt anybody, do you not think so?"
Draco kept silent, gritting his teeth and trying not to cry. He was so afraid. Sweat dripped off his forehead.
"Let's see shall we?" He twirled his wand idly, "Should I torture you or…" He pointed his wand lazily to the right of Draco, "Or your pathetic excuse for a mother?"
Draco eyes snapped open and he let out a cry, "No! No! Torture me! Hurt me! Don't hurt her! Please…I'll…I'll take it all!"
His mother sobbed, cowering in front of the Dark Lord's feet. "No don't hurt my son! Draco…be good and listen to mother. You're too young for these things…too young yes. Now, be quiet is that understood? Let mummy handle this do you hear?" Narcissa was babbling, and Draco could see the Dark Lord's face twist into a scornful expression.
She crawled forward on her knees, kissing the hem of the Dark Lord's robes, "Please, my Lord. Take me, yes, take me. Torture me, do whatever you want to me. Let my son go. He's still young, yes? He can perform many deeds for you in my husband's stead."
"Mother!" shouted Draco. "Don't do this! My lord, take me instead!" he pleaded frantically, "I am my father's heir, his responsibilities are mine now, I will take the responsibility for his failures."
The Dark Lord violently kicked Narcissa off with an angry shout. She flew into the air, landing in a dirty corner of the dungeons a few meters away, whimpering and clutching her injured arm.
"How touching," he sneered. "It is not often one sees such…devotion." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "As it is, I shall acquiesce to your request, Draco. You are Lucius's heir after all, and so…Fervefacio!"
Draco dropped and screamed in agony. Even now, even as he was dreaming, he could feel his blood boiling in exquisite pain as it did all those many years ago. The Dark Lord grinned his awful smile as Draco thrashed around like an animal, howling and pleading for release. Red, angry blisters started to form on his arms, and he clawed at his skin, wanting to do anything, anything to stop the pain; even tear out his own flesh and bleed himself dry if he had to. The sharp pain suddenly left him, leaving him throbbing and moaning at the residual after effects of the spell.
The Dark Lord let out a faint giggle, "Ah, I have missed that curse. Remind me to use it more often. What with Crucio in fashion these days, I always forget how delicious some of these other spells are."
"My Lord," gasped Draco, crawling towards him once more, "I hope I have pleased you. You are happy now, yes? My pain has pleased you? I am your willing servant my Lord, do whatever you wish! Torture however you want!"
"Your pain has…pleased me," the Dark Lord let out a satisfied sigh. "And for that, I shall forgive you for your father's sins."
"Thank you my Lord! Thank you for sparing us! We do not deserve it! I shall repay your kindness by doing your bidding well!"
"That you will, that you will my boy. Unfortunately though, punishing you does not punish Lucius in the slightest." He pointed his wand at Narcissa. "I think this will be punishment enough. Avada Kedavra" he said casually.
Green light shot out at Narcissa who gave a moan and then collapsed. Shock stopped Draco in his place. It had happened so quickly, she was killed so carelessly, nonchalantly, that he could not quite believe it had actually happened. He turned his head slightly to look at her wide-open stare and dirty smudged face.
Mother…you did not deserve this. You were always so clean, so pretty, so kind to me. You did not deserve this, not here, not in your very own dungeons, like a rat to be put down.
Voldemort turned to laugh gleefully with his other Death Eater subordinates. He could hear him gloat faintly in the background, "That will teach everyone, won't it? Even the Malfoys cannot escape my wrath; everyone will learn now that they do not disappoint Lord Voldemort!"
Nothing seemed real anymore.
And then he turned back and realized that Voldemort still had his back to him, momentarily distracted by the mellifluous praising of Rudolphus LeStrange.
Do it. Do it now, Draco. He clenched his teeth, slowly but surely pulling out his wand from the inside of his by now filthy robe. Everything moved in slow motion, and still Voldemort had not yet turned around to look at him.
Just two words, just two words, just two words…
And it would be done.
He was trembling gently, now lifting his wand steeling himself for what he must do, what he wanted to do so badly he almost screamed out loud. Voldemort let out another bark of laughter, completely oblivious to what was unfolding behind him.
He pointed his wand at Voldemort, then flinched and put it down quickly as the Dark Lord suddenly jerked his wand to clean a spot of blood on his robes.
Something whispered. Do it, do it now.
He lifted his wand again tentatively, and then, letting out a tortured sob, wrenched it down.
I can't! I'm too afraid! Please don't make me…
Do it Draco!
I can't. I can't do it!
DO IT! DO IT NOW! DO IT NOW OR YOU WILL NEVER GET THIS CHANCE AGAIN!
Please…mother, forgive me.
DO IT YOU COWARD!
I can't.
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He woke up in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat only to see Granger snoring gently; sitting in an armchair and half slumped over on his lap.
