Subject [Task]: "Potions, task 2: Write about someone being forced to relive or remember past trauma."
Quote: "It shocks me when I kiss him, but it's worth the pain."
Word Count: 1392
Warning: Implied rape, Draco x Voldemort (forcible), violence, murder, addiction.
Title: "Sick"
Note(s): I had trouble finding a quote I could use in this, so I wrote up to the point where Voldemort kisses Draco's forehead when I realized I could use that one. But it said when "I" kiss him, not when "he kisses me," so I worked with it as best I could. That somehow turned into this monstrosity. Please don't hate me! Also, Draco is a good father in this. Deal with it.
~Blue Rose
The screams echoed, shrill and piercing. Screams of children writhing on the floor in pain. Of mothers watching the life drain from their babies. Of daughters losing their fathers. Of sorrow and despair.
Draco watched them as their screams were cut short by a flash of green light. He nearly gasped through the Slytherin mask he forced himself to wear.
The wand turned from the recently-deceased to him, and he bowed his head in respect. Anything but that green light.
"Crucio."
Then the pain laced his senses. He groaned as all of his muscles cramped and his stomach spasmed. He grew rigid and gritted his teeth. He refused to scream like the others did. That would only anger his Lord further.
He sank to the floor quickly, bruising his knees and wrapping his arms around himself as best he could.
The spell was released, and he took air into his burning lungs. His Lord was laughing. It was high and cut through the air better than any of his victims.
Draco was still gasping for air, trying to fight the urge to vomit on the blood-stained floor. It reeked of death in the room.
He grew up in that room. He played with the House-elves in that room. And now he bowed low before the Dark Lord there, too.
"Rise, Draco," Voldemort ordered. Draco swallowed the bile in his mouth and stood tall before his master. He didn't wince. He didn't give any indication that he was still in pain. He looked up at Voldemort and gulped, not expecting to see Voldemort smiling.
It was cruel and twisted. It frightened Draco.
Voldemort reached out a pale hand and grabbed Draco's chin with his cold fingers. Draco blinked, somehow stopping himself from flinching.
"Very good, Draco," Voldemort said, his voice low. "You will learn how inflict it one day, child. I will teach you." His voice sent shivers down Draco's spine. Voldemort sobered quickly and stared Draco in his eyes.
Draco stared back. Voldemort's eyes were red. They were beautiful in the way a Hippogriff was. Dangerous, yes, and not something you'd ever want to have, but ever so beautiful.
Voldemort leaned closer to Draco and pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead the way a lover might.
His lips were cold and clammy, hard and so snake-like. Draco's breathing sped up, not exactly sure what to do.
He stood still, silently praying that this would be over quickly. It wasn't.
Voldemort leaned down and pressed his lips on Draco's. Voldemort's lips were demanding and unkind. Time froze, and the only thing Draco could think of was how much he wanted to run.
But he couldn't. Not if he wanted to live. He kissed Voldemort back.
It sent literal sparks through Draco's body and he cried out in pain. He felt Voldemort's laugh vibrate through him. He stumbled back from Voldemort, resisting the urge to wipe his mouth.
His Lord waved a hand in dismissal, and Draco somehow calmly exited the room. When he was past the doors, he broke into a sprint and ran to his bedroom. He stumbled out of his clothes and into the bathroom, vomiting up everything he'd eaten that day.
He turned the shower on and stepped inside to rid himself of Voldemort's touch, of the blood Draco had to crawl in. He groaned as the hot water passed over his sore body.
"It shocks me when I kiss him, but it's worth the pain. As long as I live. As long as Mother makes it out alive," Draco thought as he vigorously scrubbed his porcelain skin raw.
"Even if the Dark Lord demands more of me, I'll do it. For Mother," he added.
Voldemort would demand everything Draco could offer, he knew. His body, his wealth, his sanity. All of it, to be ruined. To be tainted by Voldemort's influence.
The thoughts sent shivers down Draco's spine just as a pale hand slipped around his neck and a pair of cold lips pressed themselves behind Draco's ear.
"I knew you'd run, Draco," the other whispered. Draco swallowed a frightened whimper. "You'll never run from me again."
Draco sat up in his bed, panting and sweating. He frantically glanced around the room, convinced that Voldemort was going to be standing in his doorway, waiting for Draco to wake like he used to.
He relaxed when he saw no one there except for his son and remembered that Voldemort was dead. He smiled a little, despite the disturbing memory that haunted the back of his mind.
"Scorpius, what are you doing out of bed?" he asked the child gently. He held out his hand to Scorpius, impossibly glad his son — though he was only six years old— was with him. Astoria wasn't at the Manor, as she was in St. Mungo's that night, starting a new medication that required the Healers to monitor her at all times.
Scorpius walked into the room, encouraged by his father's actions. He was holding his blanket to his chest, his little face pinched with worry. Draco wondered where the House-elves got off to.
"Daddy, you were having a bad dream, weren't you?" Scorpius asked. Draco sighed and pushed the covers aside to let his son slip in next to him.
"It wasn't that bad," Draco said lightly. But it was, though Draco would never tell anyone that. Even though Astoria wanted him to go see a Mind Healer because he still had flashbacks to the days when Voldemort occupied the Manor.
Scorpius slid in the bed, a concerned look on his face. Draco pulled the blanket over them and wrapped an arm around Scorpius.
"Why do you and Mama take so many potions?" Scorpius asked. He was so sweet and worried it broke Draco's heart to even think about telling him the truth. Because your Mother's dying and I'm addicted to Dreamless Sleep, even though none of the potions either of us take help us in any way, Draco thought bitterly.
"We're both… sick, Scorpius," Draco said instead, slowly, carefully. Scorpius looked up at him, a frown on his face.
"Will I get sick, too?" he asked. Draco smiled in spite of himself.
"No, son, you won't get sick. This type of illness can't be spread," he told him. Scorpius relaxed.
"Good. Will you get better, Daddy?" he inquired. He said it in such a professional manner that Draco bit his lip to keep from grinning proudly.
"I hope so, Scorpius," Draco said. Scorpius nodded.
"Me, too," he chirped. Draco pulled Scorpius closer to him and planted a kiss on his silky blond hair.
Scorpius eventually fell asleep and left Draco to his thoughts. He absently stroked his son's hair.
Draco had been addicted to Dreamless Sleep potion for years, and it was so bad he couldn't go a night without taking it. It didn't do anything anymore, and Draco had tried to stop because he could deal with the dreams when Astoria was there.
But his body wouldn't let him. He vomited when he didn't take it, got dizzy spells and passed out. Had convulsions and went into shock. It was bad, he knew.
He only took the bare minimum now, just enough to keep his body satisfied. It wasn't enough to keep the nightmares at bay, but he didn't want to risk taking more of the potion.
Astoria had urged him to go talk to a Mind Healer. She said that if he could get help he would feel so much better.
But why wasn't she feeling better, then? She was getting "help", and she was getting worse.
Draco was fine. He was alright the way he was.
Honestly, they were just memories he was haunted with. It's not like Voldemort was still in the Manor, leaving him broken in his bed every night.
Dreams were nothing, at least compared to the real thing. He would take the dreams any day over what Astoria had.
Draco sighed and reached over to the nightstand, popping off the cap to another Dreamless Sleep potion. He downed it, not really noticing the bitter taste anymore, and put the empty bottle back in its place. He settled down on the pillows, fully prepared to have nightmares again.
Scorpius snuggled closer to his father, smiling softly in his sleep. Draco didn't have another dream that night.