Two Sides of the Serpent // Draco Malfoy

Twenty-Five: Purgatory and Promises

Within the cold, unforgiving walls of the dungeon, the unspeakable horrors inflicted upon me unfolded like a macabre tapestry of suffering. What Fenrir Greyback had done was just the beginning; each day brought a new kind of torment, a relentless symphony conducted by Bellatrix and her legion of Death Eaters. The Cruciatus Curse, a malevolent instrument, played its cruel melody more times than I could bear to count.

But the cruelty didn't end there.

My frail body, once resilient, bore the physical toll of starvation and relentless beatings. The weight of the chains and shackles placed on me grew heavier by the day as my body weakened. Hunger gnawed at me, my stomach consuming itself from the lack of substance and nutrition.

Bellatrix loved seeing my pain along with the light and defiance fading from me. No longer did she care about my 'pretty face.' The once-sneering disdain had transformed into a twisted delight at the sight of a body withering under the weight of torment, allowing more than just Fenrir have his way with me. I was no longer innocent.

Days merged into nights, marked by the hollow echoes of cruelty and the relentless drumming of hunger. I rested in the corner, nestled between the two walls to keep a sharp eye on the room around me. The dungeon bore witness to the unraveling of a spirit within the heart of Malfoy Manor.

As the days stretched into a relentless end of torment, the echoes of pain and hunger became the only constants. The road ahead remained obscured, a winding path through the abyss, with only the haunting remnants of endurance echoing within the dungeon's unforgiving walls.

One day, as the gate opened, breaking the familiar cadence of solitude, anticipation hung in the air. Instead of the expected entry of a Death Eater, a bewildered Goblin was thrown into the cell with me. The clatter of the gate closing reverberated through the chamber, leaving an unsettling sense of ambiguity.

The Goblin, disoriented and wary, glanced around the dimly lit cell. I observed the signs of confusion etched across its features, the stark contrast of its metallic skin against the dungeon's cold stone.

"What's going on?" the Goblin demanded, his voice carrying a mix of anger and fear.

"I wish I knew," I responded.

His keen eyes fell upon me, still chained to the cold stone wall.

"Why are you here?" the Goblin asked curiously.

I met its gaze, the weariness of captivity evident in my eyes. "Same as you, probably," I replied with a wry smile. The irony of our shared predicament hung in the air, transcending the differences between our worlds.

The Goblin's metallic features contorted into a scowl as it processed my response. "Captured by those wretched wizards, I presume," he grumbled, his disdain for the magical world palpable.

I nodded. "You're not the only one who found themselves at the mercy of the Dark forces," I added, a shared understanding forming between us despite the contrasting worlds we hailed from.

The Goblin's scowl deepened, the disdain in his features reflecting a shared resentment toward the magical world. "Wizards, always causing trouble," he muttered with a bitterness.

As the dim light cast shadows across the cold walls, I leaned slightly against the restraints, attempting to find a more comfortable position. "Trouble will find anyone, no matter the race."

His eyes lingered on the chains around me. Gesturing to his own shackles, he responded. "Seems these are the same for everyone."

I nodded in agreement. "Indeed, they are," I replied weakly.