Save Me

HURT

It had been 16 days since Draco and Hermione began searching for their prophecy.

"We need a name you know," she said one evening. "For the spell."

"Vitae Restituo," he responded, "It's Latin for 'restore life.' We will probably discover the correct incantation through a prophecy and create a name based on that, but it's fine for now." He kissed her on the shoulder, which he had become quite fond of since his initials were imprinted there.

"I'm worried. We haven't found anything useful in the last few days. We're running out of time, and we still don't understand how all of the pieces fit together. If we don't figure something out soon, we'll have to tell the others."

Right, the others, including Snape. He groaned and put his head in his hands. "You're right. We've already been working for 9 hours today and found nothing." Suddenly, Draco felt a tingling in his forearm.

"You're being summoned."

"Yes- I don't know what this is about, but hide. Don't come out until I'm back. Be prepared for anything."

He was gone in an instant.

–

Draco knew Voldemort was angry that there hadn't been much sent in his progress reports. He wanted to say "Sorry mate, I haven't actually found more than 5 clues out of the MILLIONS of prophecies you want me to read." Instead he straightened his white collared shirt and tried to calm his nervous energy. He casted a notice-me-not charm on his tattoo, just in case.

Draco was summoned to the library. Why the library? He wondered, but decided to save his energy for the inevitable torture he would probably endure. Malfoy placed his hands on the large chestnut double doors, and opened them swiftly as a cool drift seemed to encloud him. Voldemort sat in a reading chair near the center of the large room, facing away from Draco.

"My Lord, you called."

"Yes," he said while lifting his hand up and twirling a single white rose. "Do you fancy flowers Draco?"

"I suppose I do."

Voldemort took the white flower and pricked his middle finger. Placing a single drop of blood onto it, the flower transformed into a deep shade of crimson. Draco knew he was trying to make a point, but was intimidated to find what followed.

"My order is like a pristine flower. My rule, my authority- no one questions it or defies me. But as soon as one person deviates from the expectations, well the whole system is ruined. Thus, the entire flower is infected and dies." Voldemort crumpled the black petals in his hand. "Do not be the one to defy me." With that, Voldemort turned the black dust that lay in his palm into a dark whip.

(TW: Violence)

"16 days it's been since you've failed to produce anything useful. Let this be a reminder. 16 lashes I should think. Take off your shirt."

Draco didn't hesitate- it would probably have added more to his punishment. He knew it was a powertrip; what prophecies they had found had been extremely successful compared to the quantity they were expected to process through. But Draco hadn't reported any of this. He didn't want to report anything until he and Hermione had figured out the entire puzzle- and how to stop Voldemort.

ONE. Draco was surprised by the pain and the force. TWO. He gritted his death and tried to take a deep breath. THREE. The whip cut deeply through the skin on his back. FOUR. Think of strawberries, he told himself. FIVE. Draco fell to his knees. SIX. He let out a scream. SEVEN. The lash didn't sound as loud now- the leather's snap was muted by the blood on Malfoy's back where skin no longer lay. EIGHT. Half way now. NINE. Get back to her. TEN. Draco's shoulder's shook and he dug his fingers into the wood floor. ELEVEN. I love her. TWELVE. I can't stand it. THIRTEEN. I'm so weak. FOURTEEN. Almost there. FIFTEEN. I'm going to pass out. SIXTEEN. He jolted with one last crack.