❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
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XC. GOODBYE TO THE PAST I LONG NOW TO FORGET
━━━━━━
"Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own saviour"
LIFE AS DRACO MALFOY'S WIFE, Marjorie discovered, was mostly bland.
There wasn't much that had changed. First and foremost, it definitely didn't change the fundamental truths of her existence before marriage, except life now was more of a monotonous cycle than it had ever been before and filled with disdain. Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, still regarded her with thinly veiled contempt, a sentiment that Marjorie had grown accustomed to and oddly appreciated, for she harboured a deep-seated loathing for him as well. It somewhat makes hating him practically easy. It was also predictable, unlike the sadistic delight Bellatrix Lestrange took in her suffering.
One would think that as her nephew's wife, Bellatrix might show some measure of mercy or restraint. Unfortunately, such notions were foreign to the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange; she practically thrives on cruelty, finding absolute joy in tormenting Marjorie. It really didn't matter how well she lied about her loyalty to Voldemort or pretended to share their twisted ideology, because Bellatrix would always find a reason to punish her.
Now that Marjorie thought about it, the Cruciatus Curse had now become a routine in her life. Constantly, she would feel the agonising tendrils etching themselves into her very being with each session of her continued 'correction'. At first, the sessions would leave her writhing in pain, crying out for mercy that never came. But as time wore on, she began to numb herself to the physical agony, steeling herself against the torment that awaited her.
"Oh, come now, wee baby Marjorie, you can do better than this. Not even a scream? How disappointing," Bellatrix drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. She tilted her head, studying her, clearly hoping to drag some reaction out of Marjorie that would amuse her further.
But Marjorie refused to give her the satisfaction. She had long since learned that crying out would only encourage Bellatrix to push harder, to experiment with new forms of torment. So, she bit her lip until she tasted blood, letting the metallic tang fill her mouth as a distraction from the torture. Her body trembled violently against the floorboards, her nails digging into the floor, but she kept silent, her breaths shallow and ragged, chest heaving from the effort of enduring the onslaught of pain.
"Not much fight left in you, is there, darling?" she cooed, crouching down beside Marjorie's writhing form, her long and sharp nails trailing lightly across Marjorie's forehead, tracing lines of mock affection. "Where's that spark I saw in you when you first arrived? I was hoping for a bit more... resistance."
