Forever Home | Draco Malfoy

Chapter 7-7: Souls

Desiree seemed to have lost all concept of time while down in the cellar. The only thing that helps know the difference between night and day was Draco's visits during the night. He would try his best to sneak more food to her and Ollivander without getting caught.

Desiree had yet to talk with him about being tortured. The first few nights, she woke up in a fit of screams and cold sweats. She would have a nightmare about it almost every night in the beginning. She could bear to think about it now, but just thinking about telling someone just how helpless she felt in those moments, to tell them about the burning, the pain, the agony, it made her stomach twist in knots.

Fortunately, Draco never pushed her to talk about it. He knew she would when she was ready. Draco merely tried his best to make it easier for her to stay in the cellar. He hated himself. He blamed himself whenever he got the chance to. He swore he was the reason she was locked down there. Desiree tried to tell him plenty of times that it wasn't his fault, that she would have been taken had they ever been together or not.

Aside from dealing with the emotional trauma of being tortured, Desiree found her worries fading to her family with almost anything. No matter what she did now, she worried if they were alright. Furthermore, thinking of her family also made her think of her friends. What were they doing during a time like this? Where were Harry, Ron, and Hermione? Were Blaise and Pansy at Hogwarts?

"You two will stay in here," a Death Eater gleamed, shoving two figures into the dungeon. Desiree squinted in the darkness to find a tall, lanky figure standing next to a short -- shorter than a human -- plump figure.

"Right, Griphook, I suppose this is better than what they did to Ted," the first voice sounded. Desiree's heart lept a bit at the sound of the voice. She knew that voice. It was someone she knew, finally.

"Dean? Is that you?" she stood, slowly approaching the figures.

"Desiree?" he asked.

"It is you," she said in a relieved tone. Without thinking, she hugged him. She and Dean had never done anything like that before. Sure, they were friends, not as close as she was with someone like Blaise of Harry, but they were friends. To her relief, he hugged her back. He most likely could tell she needed it.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked once she finally pulled away.

"They took me from Bill and Fleur's wedding. I've been down here ever since," she said.

"Blimey, that was all the back in August. Desiree, do you know how long you've been down here?" Dean asked. Desiree shook her head. She really didn't know how long she'd been down there, all of her days blurred together. "Desiree, it's December."

"I've been down here for four months?" her eyes grew large in shock. She didn't realize it had been that long since she was taken. This, however, only seemed to prove one of her greatest fears. The only way she'd get out of there was in death, or some act from the gods above. Ollivander was a prime example, he had been locked away for a year and a half now.

"Well, I suppose it's nice to know they don't go to the extremes so quickly," said Dean, moving his gaze from Desiree to Ollivander, then back to Desiree.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Desiree responded, raising her sleeve to reveal her now scared arm that read bloodtraitor.

Deans eyes grew wide at the pink scars on her arm, "Why did they-"

"Bellatrix tortured me to get information on my parents' whereabouts. Don't worry, I don't think it will happen to you," said Desiree, letting out a shocked chuckle as she ran her fingers across her scars. They had turned pink and raised just above her skin at this point in their healing stage.