(1) 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄 | d. m

Chapter thirty-five

Draco

The sound of Hermiones pain ridden and excruciating screams caused my eyes to tear up and my throat to clog. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before, and something I wished to never be a part of in the first place, and ever again. She was lying on the cold hard floor, her body stiff and her arms and legs stretched out, blood gushing out from one of her under arms and tears streaming down her dark eyes. She was afraid, it was clear. I was too.

Bellatrix was hunched over her body, etching something into her skin, something that caused her to let out those horrible sounds of pain. As I looked a little closer, I noticed that the word "Mudblood" was carved into her skin, something I had called her on numerous occasions throughout our years at school. Something I had very much regretted, especially after having met Lane who went on to teach me about love, patience and kindness.

I was standing with my back to Lucius, who had malevolently forced me to bare witness to the torture. He had said that if I was to carry out the Dark Lords deeds, then I would have to see such things for myself. Despite not wanting to step back over to the dark side, I had no direct intention of fighting my father or my aunt. I was scared, terrified, and I didn't know if I could ever find the bravery to stand up to them, despite what might have happened in the past.

"Draco. If the Dark Lord is to forgive your little indiscretion, then you must prove yourself truly worthy. It is the only way to redeem yourself. Think of your mother".

The mentioning of my late mother caused a gut wrenching feeling to sink into my bones, and I seemed to grow more and more sick to my stomach at the idea of having to partake in yet another horrible act of evil.

Thoughts of Lane kept interrupting, pulling a part of me back into the light. I heard her calling my name, causing the tears to come flooding. I remembered every moment spent with her, each little moment of hope, each glimmer of light. The way we had spoken about our future as if we weren't entirely sure we weren't going to have one, the way she told me she loved me, and the way her eyes seemed to almost change colour as I pointed my wand at her chin and regrettably erased her memory of us. Scenes seemed to flash before my eyes, of us together, laughing, fighting, making up. She way we could sit in complete silence and still understand each other in ways no one else ever could. That was what had kept me sane throughout all of this horrible shut. That was what had kept me alive.

And I was too scared to do anything about it.

So I didn't say anything. I just stood there in complete silence, motionless. Everything felt useless, hopeless, and I knew that this wasn't going to end well. Not for me. Not for the Golden Trio. Not for Lane.

And that's what broke my heart into a million little pieces.

Lane had been put back into the cellar along with Harry and Ron, and Hermione was now under Bellatrix's control. I felt there was nothing I could do but to try and not piss her and the other Death Eaters up more than I had already done in my act of treachery, and hope that someone else would step in and stop this. I wanted to be the one to change things, but I just couldn't. It was as if that voice inside of me, that voice that kept saying I wasn't worth anything, was the one in control; and it wasn't about to give it up.

A few hours before all of this, I had been called in to identify Harry Potter. Bellatrix's posse of loyal followers, Greyback and Scabior, had somehow caught the Golden Trio hiding out in the woods somewhere and brought them to the mansion. The only thing was, that Harry had been stung by some kind of insect and therefore his face was all swollen, making him barely recognisable, and that's when they turned to me.

At first, I said I couldn't be sure, that due to his current appearance, it wasn't possible to guarantee his identity. Of course, Lucius, being who he was, he kept on trying to convince me that If we were the ones to hand over Potter to The Dark Lord; then we'd be spared. That if I just did this one thing; everything would go back to the way it was. And in some ways it sounded... promising.

But I didn't want to go back to the way things were, at least not entirely. Sure, I wanted my mother back, I wanted her alive and well. I wanted for Lane to be back in my arms, telling me everything was going to be okay, kissing my knuckles and making me feel like everything was as it should be. I wanted to feel something again, and I wanted to be brave enough to show the world that I am not who everyone seems to think I am.

But I also knew that that wouldn't be possible. Nothing was as it used to be, and nothing would ever be the same again. I had tried to stand up to my father, and in return I lost the one person who I cared most about in this world except for Lane. The one person who seemed to care the most about me. In my sudden moment of bravery, I was struck down. I had finally gained the strength to do as I wanted, but was ultimately defeated in ways I couldn't even begin to describe. I had let my guard down, and thus lost the fight. So I wasn't about to lose anyone else.

Hermione's shrieks kept piercing through my ear drums, sending shivers down my spine and forcing my pulse to fasten. She was screaming that she didn't know anything, but Bellatrix refused to stop. She was a sinister woman, and nothing seemed to move past her. She loved to torture other people, hell, she had even gotten herself locked up in Azkaban for torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom a couple of years prior. She was my aunt, and I knew she wasn't about to stop cutting into poor Hermione's skin if she could help it.

That's just the way she was, and always had been.

Crazy. Sinister.

A psychopath.