Of the many horrible sounds that graced Draco's nightmares, Io's screams never once crossed his mind. And now, by his aunt's own hand, it was that very sound that drained him of all feeling until nothing but bile bubbled and boiled in his stomach until he could taste it on his tongue. It didn't matter how hard he clamped down on his ears, he could still hear her - her gasps, her cries, her screams of agony. He didn't want to imagine what was happening, but the sound was enough to draw up every awful possibility.
Bellatrix did not stop her cruelty until just past noon when Draco heard the door to Io's room slam against the wall followed by the thump of her body hitting the floor.
When he found her, she was limp, sprawled out eyes wide open and lips parted. Her hair was damp with water and blood, and she trembled violently. She wouldn't look at him, and somehow, that was the worst part.
Io flinched when his hand touched her face. Though he could see no visible wounds, he knew where he'd find them. Carefully raising up her sweater, it was so vivid - the fresh red blotches of bruises patched over her skin, and there was a large gash from one side of her back to the other, resembling the shape of a knife cutting away at flesh. To think, only months ago he'd seen this same body in the warm glow of the Room of Requirement - whole, pure, and his. Now, that same skin was cold and scarred.
Draco reached for his wand, ready to heal her, but she stopped him.
"Don't." She shut her eyes, taking deep breaths. "If she knows you healed me, it'll only make it worse."
"You're bleeding…"
"And that's exactly how it should be." Io winced as she sat up to pull her sweater back down. "She'll have no satisfaction otherwise."
The sound of footsteps approaching put them both on alert, and Draco ran to the wall as the door swung open, concealing his presence.
Narcissa Malfoy had no expression on her face at the sight of Io's broken body. She held bundles of black clothing and a towel in one arm and a garment wrapped in plastic in the other. She tossed them onto the bed coldly. "Get washed up. We have guests at four."
Io looked at the garment. When she peaked under the plastic, there was a vibrant emerald green dress. She hated to admit how stunning it was.
"You need to go," she said without looking up. "Your mother might be looking for you."
Draco scoffed. "That doesn't matter! How are you so calm right now?"
When Io didn't answer him, he changed the subject.
"Why didn't you tell me your parents were Death Eaters?" Draco asked. He was firm, and knew that even though the question might make her uncomfortable, there was no other way to say it. He couldn't blame her, of course. He'd lied about so many things.
Io rolled her shoulders back. "Are you sure you really want to know?"
He nodded without hesitation. "I'm not going to patronize you and say I deserve to know. But I think, given the circumstances… of you and me, I'd like to know."
The circumstances of you and me. If it had been any other day, Io might have laughed at how Draco still couldn't muster up the strength to describe the depth of their relationship, but nonetheless, it was something she liked about him. After all, these really were circumstances - not a relationship, at least not one with a title that either of them were capable of declaring.
"My father killed a muggle who was trying to attack me and my sister when we were children." Io was sparse. It wasn't the right time to tell Draco about his parents. It would only make him feel worse, and despite the ache in her core, she had no urge to make him hurt anymore than he already was. "That's all I can tell you. For now."
Draco reached for her hand, but she had little response to his touch. This was the first time he could feel the cold while she was around, and it made him nervous. Even still, he held her hand tightly, bringing it to his lips. "Very well. I'll let you get changed."
When the hot water from the shower hit Io's back, it took every ounce of strength in her not to scream. The porcelain tiles slowly turned red as the dried blood washed from her skin. She didn't want to see how badly Bellatrix had hurt her. It was a lot to process, and it all happened so slowly.
That morning, a house elf apparated into her room with a pail of ice water. It dumped it all over her hair and neck, shocking her out of her already fragile rest. Not long after, Bellatrix walked in and grabbed her by the arm, practically dragging her down the stairs and into the large sitting room.
Bellatrix Lestrange took pleasure in breaking people, and it was an aspect of the villain Io had anticipated. Io thought long and hard about how she would respond - give in or stand tall. When that first curse hit her ribs, she faltered, but would not allow someone like Bellatrix see weakness.
At first, the cruel witch was entertained. Then, she was frustrated. The crack of her wand, transfigured into a whip, lashing Io's back was the final strike before giving up for the day. She had not succeeded, and Io had managed to stay strong.
As the bruises started to ache, her mind went to Aster who was still in London, safely away from all of this. She wanted nothing more than to run to her and hold her close. She prayed quietly under the scalding water that one day, Aster would forgive her for leaving so suddenly. How long would it be until she'd see her twin again?
Io put on the dress that Narcissa reluctantly gave her. The swollen wound on her back peaked just above the green fabric, and while it was her initial reflex to try and mask it, her pride said to wear it loudly. She would not be shattered within these walls.
Narcissa was there to greet her moments before the clock struck. The elder witch looked her up and down, fixated on the smallest details - the way Io's fringe fell and the tiniest wrinkle in the fabric around her chest. There was no nod of approval, just a grim, focused gaze. When Narcissa saw the wound, she waved her wand quickly, and it was good as gone.
Draco walked out of his room just as his mother performed the healing magic, silently looking on. Narcissa looked at them both, noticing how the two seemed to look aesthetically pleasing next to each other - Draco with his black attire and Io in her green. He held out his arm, and escorted his secret love downstairs to be greeted by the dark crowd that would soon know her name.
One by one, the heads of every Death Eater in the room landed on her. Silence fell on the room as they stared, breaking apart every little detail of her stature, the way she stood, the stoic darkness in her eyes framed by her raven hair. Bellatrix was the first to greet them. As she reached for Io's face, Draco could feel the urgency to pull her away, but resisted, knowing it wasn't what she would want.
Bellatrix took Io's chin in between her fingers, breathing in the faintness of the young girl's perfume. She grinned, cocking her head to the side. "Good to see you've managed to wash away all that blood, little bird."
Narcissa gently pulled her sister away. "Next time, Bella, do what you will to avoid staining her clothes." She turned Io around to show the fresh skin, bare despite the day's injuries.
"Can't make any promises, Cissy." Bellatrix sauntered around. "She is, after all, my little black bird now. Dark Lord's orders."
"Come, Draco." Narcissa guided Draco to an empty seat.
Bellatrix held the back of Io's neck, presenting her to the rest of their guests. "You all remember Ion and Aeris, don't you? The glorious Visage husband and wife who once graced our dinner table."
The room filled with chuckles and comments. They were all smirking now, looking at Io with a new lens.
"It seems the bloodline does truly produce heirs of note. Just look at her," Bellatrix continued. "Io Visage has joined us - and the Dark Lord. I think she might shape up to be a deadly one. Don't you think so, Dolohov?"
In an instant, Io's blood ran cold.
Seeing Dolohov's figure from beneath the floorboards of the Astronomy Tower was nothing compared to him walking up to her at this very moment. The look on his face made her sick. His eyes trailed down from the very top of her head to the hem of the gown, doing nothing to hide how he was staring at the exposed skin of her thighs.
Dolohov took Io's hand and kissed her knuckles. "She looks just like her mother, doesn't she?"
Io knew he could feel her tremors, the cold sweat on her palm. He was reading her all the way through, and the moment he let her hand go, she wanted to run away and heave on the floor.
From across the room, Draco could see Io's reaction. Though she did her best to keep everything in, he knew her well enough to recognize when she was scared. It was the absence of her strength, her frailty peeking beneath the fire, and seeing her like this drudged up an entirely different sensation of rage that was impossible for him to hold in.
He stood, quickly appearing by Io's side. Grabbing her arm, he eased her away under the watchful eye of his aunt who was just as confused as Narcissa, also observing from her spot at the table.
"Nose down, Draco." Dolohov chuckled. "Are you marking your territory?"
Bellatrix reached for her nephew's face, but Draco flinched away. "What's the matter, dearie?"
"Draco," Narcissa came up behind them. "Take Io to her room."
Draco led Io away without asking any questions, though he wondered why his mother would be so willing to let both of them leave. Once they were inside, he shut the door, and Io was quick to tear off the dress.
It didn't matter that she wasn't alone, she was suffocating. Everything that touched her skin made her squirm. Dolohov's gaze on her lingered, and from that alone, she felt like she couldn't breathe.
When she started to struggle with the zipper of the dress, Draco took her in his arms, holding her from behind. He waited, patiently hushing her until she was no longer trying to get away. Once he knew she had relaxed, he eased the dress off her, quickly bringing over a blanket and throwing it over her shoulders as the garment fell to the floor.
The last time he saw her so exposed, it was because she allowed him to see her. This wasn't the same. He knew she wanted to hide, and he would do anything he could lock her away if it was what she wanted.
Draco brought her close again, and she buried her face in his chest, inhaling his cologne, still the same apple and cedar that she loved so much.
"You don't have to tell me." He preemptively said, stroking her hair softly.
Io was still trembling, though she felt better now in Draco's embrace. She wanted to ask him to stay - be here, hold her until they woke up back in the Room of Requirement, away from everything. But she knew, no matter how long they stood like this, the demons still stood outside the bedroom door.
"I suppose," she sighed. "Even if I don't owe you an explanation, I should still tell you."
Draco pushed her hair back. "Only if you're ready."
Io chuckled, pulling the blanket closer over her shoulders before sitting down on the bed. She patted down on the empty space beside her. They talked until the sun went down, and the manor was empty. Draco didn't respond for a while except for a question or two, but by the time he had learned about her mother's history with Dolohov and how she'd seen him back at Hogwarts, Draco knew enough. She still omitted his parents' involvement. If there was anything she wanted to keep a secret for now, it was that. Not only would Draco be furious, but he'd feel guilty.
There was no other way to spin it. Lucius Malfoy was just the beginning, and Dumbledore made it very clear why she was now in this position. If Draco knew, it would change everything. The thought of him feeling like their relationship was because of a task was an entirely different fear.
Sometimes, Io would imagine how she would tell him. Would Draco understand that she fell in love with him long before Dumbledore ever told her about any of this? It was almost cruel, keeping all of this information a secret. It was a reflex for her to want to tell him everything. She'd never wanted to bare her soul to anyone before; it was only ever Aster. And when she thought of Aster, her heart broke.
When the conversation died, Draco helped Io into a nightgown. He sat behind her, brushing her hair over and over again like it was something he did all the time.
Truly, he wanted this to be his new normal. With her here, the manor felt like home again, and it had not felt like that for a very long time. It was cold all the time, and it was hard to breathe. His aunt never left aside from the days she was out tormenting the world outside. His father was a broken shell of his former self, cowering under the watchful eye of the Dark Lord. And his mother - well - she was as she always was. Ever doting, but never as warm as he would have liked.
Io kissed Draco's cheek, leaving the gentle film of her lips on his skin. Whenever she touched him, he felt his heart ache in the slightest. Even if it meant aching for the rest of his life, this was how he wanted to end his nights - under the covers with her, kissing her until only dreams were left to think about.