Lord Voldemort is a well-known alpha, famous because of his lust for power. Draco Malfoy, the son of one of the Dark Lord's followers: Lucius, is an omega. The Malfoy Lord, ashamed of a Omega son, has done everything in his power to keep his son's s...
Previously on When The Devil Falls - In the next two days, Draco's world became a desolate chamber of despair. The hunger gnawed at his stomach, but the mere thought of food-induced nausea. He found a corner in the room and huddled there, trapped in the labyrinth of his thoughts. Panic attacks consumed him, manifesting as gasps for air and trembling limbs. Draco's eyes were swollen from incessant crying, and his throat ached from the lack of water.
His attempts to escape remained futile – spells, physical force, and even desperate cries for help proved fruitless. The isolation became unbearable, and Draco's mind unravelled, haunted by the fear of impending doom.
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A week passed – seven agonizing days of simmering rage and calculated restraint. The Dark Lord stepped back into Draco's room.
The pristine order of the space took him by surprise; the bed neatly arranged, the clothes back in their proper places. However, Draco was nowhere in sight until a closer inspection revealed the blonde curled under the table, unconscious.
The Dark Lord pulled Draco from his makeshift refuge and settled him on the sofa before uttering an 'Enervate.' Draco's body jolted, his eyes fluttering open to meet the piercing gaze of the Dark Lord. A cascade of apologies spillt from Draco's lips, his words falling on deaf ears as the Dark Lord remained disinterested.
Internally sighing in disappointment, the Dark Lord observed the teary-eyed Draco. A deep breath preceded his words, "I hope that you have realized that the only reason you stand alive before me today is because you accomplished your task to perfection. Had that not been the case, you would be under Crucio and quite possibly dead by now."
Draco flinched, understanding the gravity of the statement. The Dark Lord continued, "I would have thought that Lucius would have taught you more manners than to act as a common whore, going into heats in front of people, in front of me. Have you no shame?"
Draco flinched again, tears streaming down his face as memories and flashbacks became unbearable. He counted to 64 internally, taking shuddering breaths to quell the onset of a panic attack. He began to speak but thought better of it, closing his mouth. "Go on," urged the Dark Lord, curious about Draco's unspoken question.
With a trembling voice, Draco inquired, "My lord, have you informed my father of this?"
"You are more scared of your father than you are of me," the Dark Lord pointed out, more of a statement than a question.
"My lord, after you win, you will be busy ruling the world. I will have to stay with my father," Draco explained, and the Dark Lord nodded, acknowledging the astuteness of the blonde.
"One other thing, Draco. Before you leave, I understand the blankets, but why is it that you had taken the courtesy of robbing my wardrobe?" The Dark Lord questioned, puzzled.
