From Wiltshire, With Love

Chapter 59

Draco lay prone on the floor, digging his fingernails into the stones. He arched his back and strained his neck as the pain forced his body, taught and shaking, into a spread eagle. There was nothing he could do, no position to make it more bearable, no place to hide. His screams echoed throughout the ballroom that had, only just the night before, been filled with the laughing banter of twinkling guests.

His father was being held responsible for the escaped prisoners. He could tell by the order in which they were all tortured. First, Draco and his father were made to watch his mother suffer until she had passed out from the pain, her shrieks suddenly silenced. Next Greyback, who had been guarding the prisoners, was tortured while he and his father watched in dread, knowing they were next.

Now his father watched Draco, and lastly, he would have his turn. Draco wished he could have taken the punishment for his mother. He offered and then prostrated himself before the Dark Lord, tears streaming down his face. He would have done anything to save her from the pain contorting his body right now. All his supplication earned him was an evil smile and a comment about weakness in the lap of luxury.

His father had also begged, trying to claim responsibility, saying it was his fault and his fault alone. He pleaded for Draco and Narcissa to be spared. He explained it was his idea to only station Greyback in the dungeons, and should have had more guards present.

The Dark Lord only smiled, and his red eyes gleamed down at them.

The curse stopped and the Dark Lord spoke while his muscles spasmed after the sudden release. Draco heard the words, but his brain was foggy with pain. He couldn't understand what was being said. He squeezed his eyes shut, limbs quivering violently. Curling over onto his side, he slowly hugged his knees to his chest, trembling and shaking, grinding his teeth. He couldn't remember ever being tortured this long before.

Blood pooled in his mouth; Draco must have bit his tongue at some point. He spat the blood out onto the floor so he wouldn't choke. Maybe the Dark Lord was finished with him?

He just wanted it to end, he couldn't take it anymore. His body hurt everywhere.

The Dark Lord raised his wand. Draco whimpered and braced himself.

It wouldn't help.

"Crucio!"

~

I want you.

I need you inside me.

Let me suck you off.

Please.

Hermione lay in her bed at the safe house in Westchester, unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. Draco hadn't responded to any of her Galleon messages over the past few days and she was sick with worry. She had no idea what Alecto had done to him and didn't know if he and his family had been punished for the escape. When he hadn't answered her, she assumed the worst. Seesawing from furious rage and betrayal that he had lied, allowing her think the prisoners were dead, to overwhelming anxiety at the realization that he was paying for the breakout.

And Draco had aided them anyway, knowing he and his parents would be punished.

Harry and Ron had been distant and withdrawn the past few days. They had grudgingly concluded that there was nothing they could have done to save the others, and they hated themselves for it. Harry even more so, having forgotten his Portkey. They were both sullen during combat training. Harry excused himself in the afternoon and came back an hour later with red, glassy eyes. Ron vomited once. None of them were ready to discuss it. And she had no desire to face their hollow expressions. She would burst. They had no idea what had happened after she rushed them out, and they'd only feel worse.