Drip.
Drip.
This was the steady lulling sound that first crept into Draco's consciousness. That noise and his thoughts came into focus as did the lightly throbbing pain at his temples. His primary thought was 'Where in the bloody hell am I?' Sensing that the room was dark and damp, the word "cell" came almost cryptically into his head. The continuous repetition of this word between the faint sounds of liquid smashed through him like a bucket of ice water.
Like a child fearing nightmares in their darkened rooms, Draco squeezed his eyes shut against the black. Hoping in vain that this situation, for which he had not even begun to envision the possible horrors of, was all a dream—a nightmare that would drift away with his loss of sight. Terror coursed through him like withdrawal from a drug, complete with sweating, shakes and nausea.
It was impossible for Draco to discern how long he'd been in this room. Time was moving slowly and it felt to him like a creature waiting in the foliage for the right time to pounce. It was as his heart began to return to a more normal pace that he ventured to open an eye; he was met with perfect darkness that seemed to breathe around him. He waited for his eyes to adjust as the pain in his head lessened slightly. Draco tried in vain to sit up and quickly began to panic again as he realized that his hands were tied behind his back while he was on some sort of straw mattress.
He was still too delirious to figure out what was going on and he refrained from calling out for the simple impracticable notion that sound would cause some sort of horrific chain reaction. He flopped his head about to try to catch any light but none came. He was just starting to wonder where, if still alive, other possible prisoners were being kept, when his heart clenched tightly in his chest at the sound of boots echoing from somewhere nearby. As the steps came closer, Draco's pulse raced harder and he reared back in slight pain and shock at the bright light that sliced through his widened pupils when the door was jerked open.
The dark figure looming in the doorway reminded Draco of a nightmare that he had had as a child, but that fear shifted warily away as he saw that it was one of his father's mute servants. The hulking man reached into the room that was the size of a closet and yanked Draco to his feet. While straining to reacclimate himself to the light, he noticed the muffled sounds of crying and begging as they passed various large, forboading black doors that lead to the other cells.
Draco felt ill with the sudden realization that he had seen this place before—once, as a child. He had gotten lost in the meandering corridors of the massive manor and had somehow ended up in the very location he now stood. It was that vicious clarity that caused his extreme fright…these were the secret Malfoy dungeons, and he was being held prisoner in them.
The tall green door leading to one of Lucius' many studies swung open and the familiar sight hit Draco with the sudden brutality of a tsunami. The assortment of candles lighting the room were the ones that had done so for as long as Draco could remember, and in the past he had always found them pretentious and rather silly. Now, as he gazed at them guardedly, they cast an eerie glow to the room, lending to the overall air of menace. Draco had visited this very room countless times in order to listen in on his father's work and occasionally on Death Eater business, and no harm had ever befallen him here; somehow he knew that this day would be different—that this encounter would stand out in his mind for the rest of his life…however long that may be.
He felt a familiar sense of now pointless pride as he took in the regal sight of his father sitting as he had so many times before in his dark high backed chair swirling fire whisky in a priceless crystal glass. Only his arm holding the drink and a leg were visible. Draco was pushed none too kindly into the flickering light in front of the fire place as the servant left after a precise flick of his father's wrist.
He stood there, a white noise of silence running through his mind as he waited for Lucius to speak while the fire snapped and crackled. When his voice finally trailed gracefully out, its presence in the room made Draco jump.
"Well, Draco..."
Feeling a little disarmed he replied, "Yes Father?"
Lucius did not stir as he replied in the same casual manner. "How has school been? I received your marks from Hogwarts by owl about half an hour ago." He shifted as he pulled the letter from a side table and held it in his view. "Top marks in all your classes...your mother would have been so proud."
Draco swallowed at the implied statement.
"You did wonderfully..." Draco was stunned at the praise, and felt a flicker of hope spring up in his chest, but that burgeoning hope was crushed the moment Lucius tossed the proof of his hard work into the flames, where he watched the parchment blacken and curl as it became consumed within the flames.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" He purred.
"Thank you Father?" He asked uncertainly, never wavering in his stance.
"Thank you Father?" Lucius mimicked in a dangerous whisper. He stood abruptly causing Draco's heart to leap into his chest. "Thank you FATHER?" Lucius bellowed, ugly loathing plain on his refined face as he tossed his glass into the fire with a tinkle of breaking control.
Drawing the cold mask back onto his face he regarded his son with a bored stare. "Draco, son, I have a few questions for you and you will answer honestly."
He swirled his wand in the air and the younger Malfoy heard the sharp snap of someone apparating into the room. He caught himself before he turned to see who it was and waited. Movement was not a good thing when prisoners were being interrogated by his father—this he knew from the many times this he had watched this play out before.
"Yes, Lucius?" A cold voice drawled as the dark form came into Draco's line of sight. That voice was unmistakable—it was his potions professor.
"He will need three doses, Severus," Lucius said to the dark haired wizard. Draco's eyes went wide but he did not dare speak as he listened as Snape explained in a bored tone the expected ill effects from such a high dosage.
"Yes, yes, I know, Severus," Lucius said dismissively. "He's been able to withstand the standard dose since he was nine." At Snape's questioning glance, the senior Malfoy explained, "I've been dosing him consistently in order to increase his tolerance. Now," he added with a dangerous glare, "go ahead."
As Snape handed Draco a phial with a healthy measure of colourless liquid, the apology and trepidation were evident on his sallow features. Knowing he would soon spill his deepest secrets before his father filled Draco with helplessness; with a grimace he swallowed the tasteless brew and felt it begin to course through his system immediately. Snape put out a steadying hand as he began to sway dangerously, feeling his gut clenching in pain.
"You may return to your other duties, Severus." Lucius did not even glance at him as he apparated away.
"Now Draco...I will administer this potion only once, and you will answer my questions. The result of our conversation will determine whether you leave this room alive." Draco stared in mounting horror as his father sat back down.
"To begin, what you were doing at the Ball when we came in?"
"Dancing..." Draco mumbled. Lucius raised an eyebrow in response.
"With whom, may I ask?"
"Hermione Granger, Head girl." Lucius huffed in agitation his eye twitching.
"Why her, Draco?" Lucius asked, his eyes glittering dangerously.
"It's tradition," Draco mumbled. "Head boy and Head girl are supposed to dance to show school unity..." His vision began to grow unfocused and he swayed. He had no control over his mouth but he did not show his terror.
"Alright...and why did you not come home to take the mark?"
"I did not want to..." Draco cringed as he tried in vain to keep those words from slipping past his lips.
Due to his drugged state, Draco had no way of anticipating the sharp slap that snapped his head to the side. He swayed violently as his ears began ringing with the force of the blow.
"YOU UNGRATFUL LITTLE BEAST!" Lucius roared.
Draco snapped—the restraints that had held his words at bay were forced open with primal viciousness. He trembled and his knees finally gave out under the emotional onslaught.
"WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO FATHER? Sell my soul to a psychotic bastard who is a disgrace to wizarding kind? I would rather die..." Draco almost lost consciousness at the kick to his chest from his father's metal capped boot. The blows that followed Draco's bold statement became more vicious and random as the seconds ticked by, even as the harsh silence was broken by the screams of the writhing, bleeding boy on the floor. Draco ran his hand over his face and felt cold tears, contrasting with the burning blood and bruises, streaming down his face as his father pulled back, wiping a bloody hand on a delicate linen handkerchief.
"Now, Draco tell me all that you know about the Order of Phoenix!"
Draco gulped and held a breath that stretched out ridiculously in his mind. "Wha?" Was all he managed out before he felt another kick to his head. "Draco why must we go through this? You know what happens to people who avoid answering my questions."
"I don't know what you...ar...are talking about...f..father..." Draco stammered out amidst the mouthful of blood.
"Oh, come on son! There are no spells that would override the potion Snape gave you so tell me or..." A glint arose into his eye that Draco feared with an acute intensity. Lucius walked over to a small wooden box on the mantle and spoke into it.
The mute servant that had lead Draco in came in carrying a limp dishevelled body.
"HERMIONE!" Draco screeched painfully, his raw throat clenching from the previous screaming.
Lucius smirked evilly, "Well it would seem that you were doing more than dancing with the Head Girl." Draco barely noticed Lucius holding the sketch that he had done of her that had been beside his bed. He tossed it into the fire and watched it burn as Draco crawled a few feet towards her.
Lucius moved to kick him then, now joined by the mute servant, and the kicking did not stop. The pain that shot through him was unlike any he had experienced before; it was all at once white hot and blindingly cold. He felt something inside his chest crack and he wondered vaguely if it was a broken rib or just his imagination before a sharp kick to the back of the neck sent him sprawling into darkness.
Draco adjusted to the noise of the crackling fire and the flickering of light across his face before he attempted opening his stinging eyes. Lucius was seated in the imposing chair behind his desk, calmly polishing his wand with the blood-stained linen handkerchief. Draco wanted to get up but from the slight twinge he felt in his back he knew that any movement would be highly unworthy of such effort.
His breathing increased and he mumbled.
"What was that Draco?" Lucius said in an almost bored tone.
"Are you going to kill me? If you are then get over with..." He spat while he tried to wiggle his toes to make sure that he was not paralysed. Ouch. Well at least he could still feel his feet.
Lucius's laughter tinkled out almost innocently and the sound made Draco shiver.
"No, no, Draco...well maybe, but certainly not now!" He spoke this with quiet certainty. Standing and blocking Draco's view of the fire, Lucius began to close in on the bleeding boy on the floor. Draco curled tighter into a foetal position but no further blows came.
"First thing's first! We will have to get you cleaned up; it would be unseemly for you to show up at your party in this state…hardly dignified. Now stand up Draco." His mind flashed in confusion and then in wrenching pain as Lucius lifted him up by a bruised arm, squeezing tighter then necessary.
"Where's...Hermione?" He spat out with blood.
Lucius's eyes flashed and he said, "She is none of your concern right now. You need to be thinking about your party." He began to cast cleaning charms on Draco but did nothing to heal his wounds.
Draco cringed at the scrubbing sensation and the feeling of humility. He had not had to go through this since he was very young, it was nothing really compared to the beating or the fear of not knowing what was to happen to him but it still made him feel odd. This mixed with the confusion over the so called party his father kept referring to left him feeling disoriented and a little frightened.
Lucius walked around Draco, as if examining a horse. He half expected him to check his teeth but he was spared this when his father barked, "Stand up straight Draco! What were you raised in? A mudblood hovel? I think not..." He looked furious and for once he did not know how to handle his fathers fluctuating moods.
Draco attempted to stand up straighter and even took the mind to flatten his hair much to his father's apparent bitter amusement.
Lucius grabbed onto his arm and before he knew it they were at the party.
The tall black throne standing in the centre of the darkened room was enough to shock Draco into alertness…never before had he felt more awake and terror stricken then he did in this moment. Looking back upon the events of that night, Draco would be unable to recall the 'party'—it was all gone…after the initial sight of the throne until they returned to his father's study was a vague blur in his normally astute mind.
Though he had no memory of the occurrences of the evening, he would often awake in the night, screaming, trying to avoid the putrid tendrils of remembrance that nagged his unconscious—despite his curiosity, Draco somehow knew that it would be better to remain ignorant of the actual events.
Actions and time were cracked and Draco could bring to mind his fathers laughing face standing over him but then a flash of blankness of expression then anger and back again, as if he were playing a great game with him. Then he felt being lifted and hearing his father saying as the servant walked away with Draco in his arms. "You have a week; it will not be to your benefit to remain silent. Each day you do so will make the next worse. She will burn, you will watch her burn, and then you will follow unless you give me the information I want..." The rest of this monologue was lost as Draco fell into darkness.
Drip...
Drip, drip. Drip.
'Oh, this is familiar,' Draco thought bitterly. He opened his eyes to see that a small window had been opened, and it was not quite dark—either dusk had just fallen or dawn was rapidly approaching; it was impossible to discern which.
What he did know was that the bound girl standing in the tiny square of light by the wall was none other than Hermione and that she was still breathing. He tried to sigh in relief but it only came out as a raw cough that awoke the bushy head from its slumber.
He could see her mouth moving but no words were coming out. Hermione's eyes crinkled in confusion at her present state of silence and he watched the mounting terror on her face as she looked around the room and realization hit her with an acutely visible force. She began screaming and crying silent tears and pleading; at least that was what it looked like to Draco, who could see her sending fearful glances in his direction. His thoughts dully caught up with him as he realized that Hermione could not speak. He coughed again and this sound caused her to begin to struggle at her bounds in earnest fear.
He began to cry at the sight; he could not hold it in any longer. She stiffened and then relaxed as she recognized his tone and tried in vain to speak and get his attention.
He mustered up some courage to break the silence of the dark cell and said with total defeat, body and soul. "I'm so sorry...Hermione. Sorry..." Draco was exhausted, emotionally and physically; through the pain, the tears, and the unspeakable atrocities he had witnessed, he discerned a different sort of pain on his left forearm. The dull thrum of pain was laced with the tingling of magic, and Draco fell into a fitful shock induced sleep as the magical tattoo marring his pale skin shone an ominous green.
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I dedicate this entire chapter which at first I did not like but after reading the whole thing over this morning I quite like a lot, to my friend Amanda. I do not have word perfect on my computer and she has graciously agreed to have them checked over by her before or after my Beta Carla does so. I can't wait to keep writing because I like where this is all going. Sorry for the violence and the bondage...but it's so fun to put the little dragon through hell-o. Dedicated also to Jaru too!
I also dedicate this to two readers. Yes to you Fanficky-chicky! I am so sorry that I messed up your name! You deserve a nod for liking this even though it is not your normal pairing...I find that I highly dislike Ginny Draco (B/N: I'm not a big fan of that pairing either)...they all seem so well sappy, but then I have not read many. Anyone wants to shout out a good one I would be more then happy to read and review. And to SamG who thought that it was Ron who ruined things in the last chapter. Like he went all Carrie on Herms and Dracos heads, laughs crazily You sweetie pie! I guess this chapter was a big twist. Hugs everyone and then goes to send this to someone to fix her craptastic spelling. and to tara lovelles forever...and to Carla who did a WONDERFUL job on this...you really added some very nice things to it and I am really pleased.