𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒽 | 𝒟.𝑀.

60 | ﴾ Funny ﴿

After the nasty and sensationally unfair sword fight, Draco moved in and out of consciousness and severe pain, realizing that he had been brought back to his cell to die alone with the crying of Gilderoy Lockhart playing as the soundtrack to his slow death. 

He managed to pull off his thin sweatshirt, wrapping it around his lower waist to stop the active bleeding, laying back against the wall shaking and surely on his way to the afterlife. He was surprised that Nott had even bothered to move him back inside instead of simply taking his head clean off after he'd passed out. 

While waiting like an injured animal, the only conclusion that he could come to for his sparing was that Nott wanted the pleasure of Draco's drawn out suffering, and if he did survive then the torture would ensue. 

When Luna came to feed Lockhart, Draco had no idea how much time had passed while he'd slept and fought against all odds. His arm was far too heavy for him to even lift it to check the watch, and a freezing chill had begun to prickle over his sweaty skin. He was going into shock, and it would only be a short duration before he fell into a coma. 

"Love-Lovegood..." he moaned in a hoarse whisper, his eyes heavily hooded. A last-ditch thought had come to his mind in the hours he'd been back inside. 

Luna approached the cage sweetly, "Draco, you look ghastly. You're almost certainly dying."

"Mmmhmm," he hummed. "Listen to me. I need you to send out an owl without Nott finding out. Can you...can you do that?"

Luna stepped back from the metal grating with an unreadable expression, and Draco was devastated when she spun and left. His face hung downwards as he wheezed in the darkness. He was startled back awake by Luna's pixy voice, "Draco, what do you want to say?" 

She had hunched down on her knees in front of him with a quill and a notebook in her fingers, waiting. Draco sighed relief, "You have t-to write exactly what I say, okay? And this has to go to Potter - Nott could be watching the Malfoy post."

Luna nodded. Draco swallowed and rolled his filthy white hair against the moldy wall behind him, "Potter, tell her that I love her. Keep her as far away from Nott as possible. He's going to kill me. She needs someone to help her with her Ministry cuffs. And when it's all over, please make sure my children live a worthwhile life. I'm begging you." 

He shut his eyes, dehydrated and at a great blood loss. Luna finished scratching, and Draco ignored the short whimpers of empathy that she was letting slip despite her brain damage. Somewhere in the oubliette, Lockhart had silenced himself to eavesdrop. 

He had nothing left to give; Draco passed out again with the clanging assault of the thick metal door slamming shut in Luna's exit. 

۞۞۞۞۞

"Funny...funny..."

"Lockhart, can it," Theodore's irate voice floated in and out of Draco's hardly sentient mind. His body felt like it was a thousand degrees, back in the torture chamber on the table.

This time he wasn't tied down at all, clearly in too much infliction to even be considered a threat. His watery eyes slid to Luna next to him, petting his sweaty platinum hair as he sucked in panicked breaths. For a moment as his vision waxed and waned he was certain it was Madeleine from his blurry vertigo.

He reached his bloody hand up to her deformed face as his eyeballs practically rolled backwards into his head. She clasped her fingers through his, muttering sweet notions of comfort that did not match with the scenario.

On his other side Theodore had a magnifying instrument of sorts strapped over his thick curls, pulling closed tightly the laceration on Draco's side where the rusted sword had severely sliced into his skin. Draco could hardly make a sound in response to the burning sensation of the emergency surgery, which was clearly madly overdue. "How-how long?" he weakly whimpered towards Luna, trying to ignore the fact that Nott had him entirely at his mercy.