The Laws Have Changed - Chapter 19
He couldn't believe he was being interrupted from his regular patrolling to "oversee" a detention.
One of the Carrows (it honestly didn't matter which one, as they were both a scourge and a pain in his arse) insisted that he be there to ensure that the punishment to be dolled out was done properly. And according to Goyle's harried words, he was the only one fit to follow things through.
He followed his former friend (he was certain that he was one of many that he would be loathe to keep in his life once the war was over) through the corridors until they reached the hallway where the "Dark Arts" class was located. Great — Amycus. He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out through his nose as he knew that it was entirely possible for his girlfriend to be awaiting him on the other side of the door. She had informed him that a student was in need that night and he made sure to prepare all the necessary items for her eventual return to his room.
When Goyle opened the door his eyes widened for a moment when he saw her standing in front of a frightened third year, before settling into a relatively blank mask.
"Ah, look who decided to finally join us," Amycus drawled, nodding his head to Crabbe to grab the Gryffindor boy cowering behind Ginny.
His eyes darted over to her, wondering if she looked at all nervous. He almost smirked when he saw the same look of indifference present on her face. They just needed to make it through this. They had talked about it and both of them knew that he would hold back a little bit, while she played up her reaction for dramatic effect. Then they would go back to his room and he would make sure that she suffered no additional ill effects. Easy. Or about as easy as it could get when one was forced to torture their girlfriend.
"I would've been easier to find if you had requested me on a night when I wasn't performing my expected duties, Professor." He tried to call upon the harsh, sneering tone his father favored so much, hoping it clearly illustrated just how irritated he was by the scene before him. Although his family's favor had publicly fallen, he knew that the Dark Lord was still hesitant to completely denounce his father in front of his other followers.
The male Carrow simply rolled his eyes and he knew the older man was biting his tongue lest he say something that would get back to either Severus or the Dark Lord. "Yes, quite." He motioned toward Ginny. "I'm sure you're familiar with our little rebel, Miss Weasley, here."
"What about her? You know I've never been fond of their insufferably noble family. They're like a plague of do-gooders," he scoffed. Gin might hold those words against him once they got back to their room, but he was certain that she would probably say worse if prompted. Even before they began dating, he knew her insults held more of a bite than her brothers' did.
"Well the thing is, Mr. Malfoy, there's a certain spell I was hoping you'd demonstrate for us tonight. I know you have first hand experience with it and I think it's about time we finally showed our most irritating student what happens when she steps out of line too often."
He narrowed his eyes. He knew that the detentions typically involved the Cruciatus. It was the easiest way to inflict pain on both the recipient and the potential caster, especially if the caster wasn't a Slytherin. But Carrow seemed to have something else in mind and he could already feel the cold sweat at the nape of his neck as he waited; his stomach coiling as he wondered when the other shoe would drop.
Carrow waved his hand, swatting away any concerns, his tone taking on a lighter, almost delighted tone. "It shouldn't be any trouble for someone of your skill set. I know that you're an incredibly gifted young wizard."
"Get to the point."
The older man smiled, his twisted amusement increasingly evident as he strolled toward him. "The point, Mr. Malfoy, is that I want Miss Weasley to understand that her actions have consequences and, sometimes, those consequences can be rather painful." Amycus placed a hand on his shoulder. "I believe Sectumsempra should do the trick, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Goyle?"
They glanced over Carrow's shoulder to see the other boy's eyes light up in barely restrained glee. The third year paled; his eyes wide and already beginning to fill with tears as the name alone invoked fear of the unknown.
He clenched his jaw, wanting nothing more than to cast it on the man gripping his shoulder; his filthy nails beginning to dig into his robes like a dragon's maw.
"I heard that Severus made a point to teach you the counter-curse after that unfortunate incident last year. Don't worry about clean up though. We'll make sure that a different student gets the distinct pleasure of scrubbing away their hero's blood another night." The professor moved to stand behind him, both hands gripping his shoulders before gently pushing him forward. "Now, let's see why you were made Head Boy."
He whirled back around. "I don't see why I should use a curse that is not part of our existing curriculum."
He couldn't. He couldn't do that to Ginny. To hell with appearances. There was no fucking way he was about to inflict that kind of pain on someone he loved. Regardless of the fact that he did know the counter-curse, he couldn't be the one to do something that would give her the kind of scarring he now dealt with. He would never forgive himself; he would never find peace knowing that he was bringing the only bright light in his world to the brink of death.
"I had a feeling you would say that, Mr. Malfoy." Carrow placed his hands behind his back, once again strolling over to stand in front of him. A pincer-like grip made its home on his shoulder for the second time that night. "And the thing is, the Dark Lord has been seeing our reports about our time here and when he saw Miss Weasley's name highlighted so often…" He trailed off, casting his gaze to the side with a shrug. "Well, let's just say that he has very fond memories of their year together and he only thought it right for his model student to bestow her a kindness in his stead. The only reason why I'm telling you to use the counter-curse is because the Dark Lord finds her too amusing to get rid of just yet."
He locked his jaw this time, the clenching not enough to prevent him from flying into a rage. Fucking Carrow and his fucking slimy ways. The man and his sister were both unstable, vile pieces of shit and he couldn't wait to see them get what was coming to them either by his own hand or Ginny's. It wasn't enough that Alecto saw his girlfriend as some sort of sexual conquest and had taken to leering at her whenever she was within a three meter radius, now the brother was trying to have a pissing contest with him. If someone from Ginny's merry band of heroes didn't get rid of Amycus, he would use that literally bloody curse on him and let him choke on his own blood. The Killing Curse was humane compared to what he thought the siblings deserved.
"Fine," he tersely replied. "However, she is to be given the counter-curse after she's been hit. This may have been an order from the Dark Lord, but as someone who has experienced it, you'd do well to listen to my instruction on this."
"Of course," Carrow promised, a hand placed over his chest in some pathetic attempt at fealty.
It was only when he turned to look at his girlfriend that the reality of their situation decided to sink in. It was easy to be irritated in the face of the temporary professor. He was expected to be either simpering and terrified, or blusterous and headstrong. Where he had been the former in his last life, it was Ginny who gave him the strength to keep up the facade of the latter in his current life. It was easy to pretend that he was still the same put upon prick he'd been when he had her there to remind him that he was more than the world thought he was.
He could feel himself shutting down, collapsing in on himself as he let his eyes glaze over, hoping to block out the panic, guilt, and frustration that had been warring through him. She had gone pale, her freckles appearing even darker against her pallid skin. He gulped, watching her do the same before her eyes narrowed. He'd been with her long enough now to realize that her glare was both for show and a way for her to prepare herself for the brutality that was about to ravage her body. He closed his eyes, steadying himself with another subtle deep breath. He raised his wand as he opened them, a white-knuckled grip preventing him from showing how legitimately petrified he was. He had the sudden feeling of being an observer. As though he were simply dreaming and he was watching his second life play out while Frey and the man who looked like his grandfather commented on his actions. It made it easier when his face became completely blank and the curse spilled out of his lips before he had a chance to recognize what was happening.
"Sectumsempra."
The world began to crawl around him, his girlfriend's screams ringing in his ears. He vaguely thought to tell her that screaming only made it worse, only made her blood — Merlin, her blood nearly matched her hair — fill her lungs faster. He knew his arm dropped at some point and he felt Carrow give his shoulder a final squeeze before he beckoned Crabbe and Goyle to follow him out of the classroom; an amused glint present in the older man's eyes as he told him how pleased the Dark Lord would be.
He knew he should've run to her side the minute he knew the room was clear, but he was too deep in the labyrinth of his mind to even attempt to navigate back to a state of lucidity. Part of him was screaming to move, if he just moved his legs then he could rush over to Ginny and help her. Her desperate gaze was pleading with him. If he could get to the person he loved in time, then he could heal her.
At one point, he thought he heard someone else say his name, but that was impossible when it was only him, Ginny, and that third year still in the room. Maybe the third year was screaming something. It didn't sound like them. It also wasn't possible for them to grab both his shoulders to shake him.
"Draco!"
He focused back in on a pair of frantic brown eyes. "Blaise?" he croaked. His friend nodded, shaking him again until lucidity returned to him. "Where is she?"
The dark-skinned boy dragged him over to where his girlfriend laid, coughing as she tried to stay awake. The irritated sting of tears prickled his skin, but he didn't have it in him to care. He dropped to his knees at her side, the evidence of his hysteria mixing with the viscous crimson liquid pooling around her.
"I'm so sorry, Ginny. I'm so sorry." His apologies were mixed in between his utterances of the counter-curse; a steady stream of murmured promises eventually joining his mantra as he carefully ran his wand along each gash.
As he got closer to her face, he could see her own tears glisten as they ran down her cheeks. Her lips were flecked with blood and he knew she could taste the syrupy substance with each garbled cough.
"It's okay, Draco," she whispered, trying to bring an arm up to cradle his cheek as he continued his task.
"Shh…try not to talk, love." He scrubbed his face against the rough wool of his jacket, only then realizing how much he was shaking and how easily he had let his tears flow. "We're almost there. We're almost… FUCK!" He could see her blood on his hands from where he had been checking for additional open wounds. He gently held her face (she felt so cold and so unlike the blazing bonfire he knew her to be), wondering how she could bare a bloodied grin as she watched his progress. "I'm so sorry, Gin. I should've fought more. I should've done something to stop this. Please forgive me, Ginny. Please. I don't know what I'd do without you."
She managed to place her hand over his. "I know you can do this." The gurgle in her tone was slowly dissipating, becoming his only source of strength as he continued to perform the counter-curse.
She continued to hold onto him as he noticed Luna, Blaise, and — oh, hell — Longbottom all kneel around her; bandages, poultices, and balms in hand as they began the arduous process of making sure that any remaining blood was wiped away and her wounds were well covered.
His vision began to blur when she slowly turned her head to press a kiss to his palm. Her rosy lips felt warm against his damp hand and he almost laughed in relief. He tried to soak up his tears with his jacket again before continuing to assess her body. When he got back to her face, she was still smiling at him, despite the deep purple crescents under her eyes.
"See? I knew you could do it, Draco," was all she managed to say before she seemingly passed out.
That was the final nail, the final straw, the final crack in whatever wall he had erected in his mind that was stopping him from feeling the totality of everything. He scooped her up as daintily as he could, holding her shoulders with one arm, while his hand kept its position against her cheek. "I love you, Ginny" blended with "I'm sorry, Ginny;" the admissions chanted into her ear as he rocked her. He knew he let out a sob at some point because he was buried against her neck to muffle his continued cries — his anguish completely overtaking his thoughts.
He couldn't do that again. Not to her, not to anyone. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing someone so dear to him, someone that he would fight with every fiber of his being to protect, be shredded by his own hand. This was truly what his girlfriend was fighting for. She wanted to prevent everyone in their small world from having to be forced into such a situation. Of having to choose between the life of one over the lives of many. She stayed with him despite knowing that his possible refusal to do what was expected of him would immediately place his parents and himself in danger.
Time continued to slip by, seeming to match his tears' pace. His brain zeroed in on keeping her close. If she just stayed in her rightful place within his tender embrace, then she would be okay. Their relationship would be okay. He could pretend that this incident was simply an all-too real dream. Wasn't there a term for dreams where one knew they were dreaming? Lucid dreams? Yes. This could be a lucid dream, even though he could smell the metallic tang of her blood in her hair, on her skin, on her clothes, on his skin, on his clothes — a thick, soupy fog of the acrid scent of iron filling the air around them. And it could still be a lucid dream, even with the clear traces of Dark magic lingering in the near-empty classroom. It was an oppressive blanket that tried to assert its dominance over the slight buzz of their own magic.
But, realistically, it couldn't be a dream. Because if it was, then he wouldn't watch, vacantly, as Blaise and Longbottom gently pulled him away from Ginny, only to levitate her onto a stretcher. He let it sink in that it wasn't a dream when he felt Luna's surprisingly calloused hands squeeze his shoulders before holding one out to steady him as she encouraged him to stand.
And reality finally reared its ugly head again when he saw the girl he loved take shallow breaths as they made their way back to his room.
Once there, he let Blaise guide him into his shower, and let the bloke that he'd known since they were toddlers strip him down to his underwear because he still couldn't be bothered to do anything knowing that he was forced to nearly kill his girlfriend.
"Burn them," was all he murmured as the water washed away the top-most layer of blood from his skin. He didn't need to specify that he wanted no physical reminder of what had happened that night. His friend simply nodded and told him he'd grab him some fresh clothes before leaving him to his thoughts once more.
She knew that it was bound to happen.
Blaise had already done it, along with people like Theo and Daphne. It was interesting to note that the last two seemed just as uncomfortable about the whole thing as Blaise had been.
She had heard about Draco punishing some of her Housemates: Lavender, Neville, Seamus. It was a weird sort of comfort when all three told her that it was surprisingly less painful whenever he cast the spell. And once Neville knew that she was dating their reluctant Head Boy, he even mentioned how Draco always looked relieved when he was told to stop.
So she was expecting more of the same when she saw Goyle run off on Carrow's orders to dish out the "special punishment" she'd be getting that night.
She tried not to let it show how terrified she was when Draco was told that he was to use Sectumsempra on her. And, ironically, she tried not to let it show how hopeful she was when her boyfriend began arguing against the curse's use on her. Because, really? What point was there to single her out in such a way when Luna and Neville were just as visible as she was in their fight to defend their school?
Hearing that Tom sent over the order made her feel every bit of the exhaustion that had been tightening her stomach, raising her shoulders, or hunching her over as of late. It was so fucking typical of him. He wanted everyone to believe that he was so, so far above them all with their feelings, but she knew at the semi-precocious age of eleven that he was just as lonely as she had been. Even through all his sneering maliciousness, he always answered her when she called him out on his bullshit. To hear that the adult version of him still enjoyed the parasocial connection they had developed was a hilarious bit of knowledge that she probably would've enjoyed more if not for the quintessentially Tom order he forced onto Draco.
When she saw her boyfriend turn to her, his bright eyes dulling the longer he stared at her, she had to lock her knees. He was Occluding and and God. Fucking. Dammit! She couldn't stop her immediate reaction of anger from quickly rising to the surface, bubbling over in her mind as she remembered what he said to her the first night they had ever kissed. That he wouldn't need to do that around her again. That he knew he had someone to talk to. And there he was; going against his word, breaking her trust.
But that anger dissipated as quickly as it came, turning into steam to blown away by the new terror that was the acute awareness of why he was Occluding. He was getting lost in the vast maze of his mind. He was obscuring and warping his reality so he didn't have to acknowledge what he was doing. Or, perhaps 'acknowledge' wasn't the right word. She was sure that he was fully in control of his mental faculties. So maybe it wasn't him running from acknowledgment. Maybe it was him running from being fully aware of his actions. Because he was in control when he gripped his wand. He was in control when he watched her glare at him in a weak attempt to let him know that she might actually be ready.
He only lost his tenuous grip when the word left his lips. It was gone as she tried to focus on how much she loved him. It was nowhere to be found as she reassured herself that he knew the counter-curse and would perform it on her without issue.
Yet, she found herself losing hers as she felt those thousand divine cuts rip through her like talons, like claws, like daggers, like rapiers, like every sharp object that nature and humanity had created to wreak havoc on soft flesh.
She screamed as she collapsed, her world turning upside down as her vision went blurry from the sudden loss of blood. She could feel the gooey, mercury-like substance creep into parts of her body that it was not welcome in. She could taste warm molten iron and she thought to cry out his name when she noticed that he wasn't by her side.
She wanted to cry when she saw him — broken, inconsolable, but trying so hard, so, so fucking hard to remain calm for her. He told her to stop speaking, but she let it get worse for him. He needed her softly spoken words of encouragement, of praise. He needed the surety of knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he could piece her back together again.
Relief began as she felt her skin zip itself shut, followed by the cooling sensation of the balms and poultices her friends were placing onto her fragile skin.
As she teetered on the precipice of passing out, she would have flashes of moments. Whispers of "I love you." Her body swaying with someone else's. Harsh sobs against her neck. Floating. Oh Merlin, how was she floating? Did the countercurse not work? And then softness. She was resting on a cloud and, somehow, she knew she was truly safe.
Then and only then did her entire world fade to black.
A/N: Thank you everyone who made it through this chapter! This one has been difficult for me to write, so thank you again for reading it. I also want to state that I will have to build up another backlog of chapters for this fic as I have not finished chapter 20 yet. I'm not sure how long that will take, so I appreciate the continued interest in this fic through y'all reading it, favoriting it, or subscribing to it. Thank you for keeping me going with your interest!