Beggin'

Chapter 3

Draco

I smooth my tie down before casually sliding my hands into my suit pockets, willing my heart to fill with ice and hatred. Forcing any bit of guilt to hide from me, the monster my parents are carefully shaping to fit into their mold.

Theodore puffs smoke out from his mouth, the horrid smell sticking to my clothes like a second layer of skin.

"You bastard! This is worth more than you and Mattheo combined, I refuse to smell like a vagrant chain-smoker," I shake my head in disgust, my blonde locks getting caught in my eyes, and pop a mint in my mouth. The burst of ice calming the hot rage just beneath my cold exterior.

Theodore snickers at my dramatics and hands another cigarette to Mattheo, who was currently crushing the butt of yet another smoke.

"Stop."

Tom's voice echoes through the room, quiet but full of a dangerous bite, causing us to pause but not nearly as authoritative to make me rethink smacking Theodore upside the head. Smugness and arrogance oozing through my smile as I bare my teeth at him, a protest falls from his lips but he quiets when Tom walks into the room just in time to see Mattheo spill red wine on his expensive white shirt.

Mattheo, too high to realize that Tom's patience was running low, snorts and bursts out in obnoxious giggles.

"I told you to stop. Do what you're fucking told," he warned us, a hiss building up in his throat as he's eyes turn from their usual dark brown to a complete abyss of darkness.
Mattheo completely ignorant of his older brother's breaking point begins to imitate him and mock him in parseltongue. The snake hissing fills the room as a murderous calm falls over the house when Mattheo calls him a 'stuck up wanna be barbie bitch'.

Let's just say it did not end well for him and later that day he was sporting a black eye and bruised lip, his eyes sobering up faster than they usually do. The reason why were on this mission beaten into him, physically. And this is not the first time the brothers' tussled over cigarettes and alchohol, or orders from their father. It was always something that had them fighting like cats, trying to find any weak spot they could. Trying to hurt each other.

Theodore and I usually tried to stay out of it but sometimes it was necessary to intervene. I still remember Mattheo spending weeks stuck in the hospital wing with Madame Pompfrey, what a let down to wake up to her ugly face. I was still a bit angry about her calling me dramatic when that damn Hipogriff attacked me, I really was about to die. I shake me head, getting rid of those thoughts and try to focus on what Tom is saying now.

"We need to find out what the girl looks like first, give her good scare," he began, "Make sure she knows exactly who's after her."

"Itching for a chase, Tom?" Theodore asks him, blowing smoke out of his lips.

Tom's answering smile is gruesome yet handsome at the exact same time, scaring the wits out out of the muggle we had kidnapped that was currently cowering in the corner.
The muggle starts to cry when Tom points at them, "This bloke wasn't nearly as interesting to chase, this girl better make this riveting enough before we go back. Or else we might have to take the muggle with us for a good laugh every now and then."

We all laugh and I wonder if they ever noticed mine wasn't entirely real, most of it was fake. When I was younger I used to think of jokes or funny stories I had heard when my father punished Dobby. I'd never thought I'd need it for my...my fellow death eaters. I should've realized the night I got my dark mark, that life would change forever. But some of it stayed the same.

"How are we going to do that? I know you have a plan for us to follow out, you're ever humble servants," I snigger, bowing low with a hand flourish that earns a snicker from Theodore and a frown from Tom which means it was funny, he just can't admit it.

"We'll do a locate where she lives and perform a legilimency spell on her while she's asleep," he pauses, his eyes growing darker, "She'll know exactly who's coming after, and she'll know to be afraid."

Mattheo

I'm sitting in our common room of sorts, the muggle who lives here calls it a living room. Not sure what he means by that.

I reach up to run a hand through my hair when my fingers graze my pounding bruise and I hiss at the fresh wave of pain. The others had seen us fight together before but they never knew that Tom had received an order from dear old dad to beat the alchohol and cigarettes out of me, the others didn't know he was forced to bring me pain since about our third year at Hogwarts.

I focus on the music pounding through my head, the screaming lyrics and the crash of the drums as it flows through me, calming the urge to bring pain in my fingertips. Unbeknownst to Draco and Tom, our father had also giving me a command. Everytime I'm hurt or scared or angry to bring pain to someone and if nescessary kill them. He wants me to hurt people, to be just like him and relish their screams.

Father of the year, Ladies and gents'. He really knows how to parent his two kids.

I laugh at my own sarcastic thoughts and take another sip of water. 'Sober up' Tom told me, his voice gutteral from when I punched him in the neck. I knew he didn't enjoy hitting me, though he never told, I could sense it in the way that his swings were half-heartedly and he didn't dodge my cheap hits. He craved the burn of pain, he wanted to feel something without losing face or letting down his impenetrable walls. We didn't have your usual childhood brotherly love, we had an ally against a larger evil.

How enticing.

Tom drops a ice wrapped in a cloth, "Don't be so stupid, Mattheo. Use the ice."

I pick it up, nodding my thanks and he offers nothing in return. Of course.

I never told him that he use to by my childhood hero, I used to look up to him with awe. And know I just look to him with empty eyes and he looks to me with cold, emotionless eyes.

We've turned into our father's minions. We are shattered and broken and unfixable. Merlin help that poor girl tonight, she'll need it.

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