Draco Malfoy and the Girl Who Hid

39

As Yn was led into the dark, cavernous room, she could feel her heart pounding, each step echoing ominously on the cold stone floor. The room was dimly lit, the shadows stretching along the walls like sinister hands reaching for her. Draco walked beside her, his expression guarded, his gaze fixed forward as he tried not to meet her eyes. She could see the tension in the way he moved, the stiffness of his shoulders, the slight clench of his jaw. He looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else, and she couldn't blame him.

When they reached the centre of the room, Voldemort turned to greet them, his pale, serpent-like face illuminated by the flickering candlelight. His eyes bore into Yn with an unnerving intensity, a twisted smile curving his lips. Yn straightened her spine, refusing to let him see her fear, though she could feel it coiling in her stomach like a snake ready to strike.

"Ah, Yn," Voldemort hissed, his voice slithering around her like poison. "How kind of you to join us."

Yn said nothing, her gaze steady as she looked into his soulless red eyes. She could feel Draco tense beside her, a silent warning in his posture, but she ignored it. She would not be cowed by Voldemort, no matter how much he tried to intimidate her.

Voldemort's smile widened as he circled her, his eyes raking over her as though she were a specimen under glass. "You have your mother's fire," he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Such a shame she never put it to good use. Hiding from me during the war, like a frightened little mouse." He paused, his face twisting with a bitter sneer. "And to think, she once claimed to love me."

Yn's heart clenched, a flicker of pain flashing through her as she thought of her mother, the woman who had sacrificed so much to keep her safe. She could feel Voldemort watching her, reveling in her discomfort, and she forced herself to keep her expression blank, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"She fell out of love with you," Yn said, her voice quiet but steady. "She saw you for what you truly are."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Did she tell you that?" he asked, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Did she tell you that she was too weak to stand by my side? That she ran because she was afraid of what I could make her become?"

Yn clenched her fists, feeling anger bubbling beneath the surface. She wanted to shout, to scream at him, but she knew it would be useless. Voldemort fed off of anger, thrived on it, and she would not give him that satisfaction.

He stepped closer, his gaze intense, almost hungry as he looked down at her. "You would make a fiery lover, just like her," he murmured, a sick smile spreading across his face. Yn's skin crawled, a wave of nausea washing over her as his words settled around her like a dark, suffocating shroud.

Draco shifted beside her, his discomfort palpable as he cast a sidelong glance at Voldemort, but he said nothing, his face carefully blank. Yn could sense the tension radiating from him, a barely-contained fury simmering just beneath the surface.

Voldemort smirked, seemingly oblivious—or indifferent—to Draco's reaction. "You have such spirit, Yn," he said, his voice soft and mocking. "Perhaps that is why your father has not yet come for you. Perhaps he knows that you are strong enough to survive on your own."

Yn's heart twisted at the mention of her father, a wave of fear and longing washing over her. She missed him, missed the sense of safety he'd always provided, the steady, reassuring presence that had been ripped away from her. But she refused to let Voldemort see her pain, refused to let him know how deeply his words had struck her.

Voldemort's smile turned cruel as he waved a hand, and a house-elf appeared, carrying a small recording device. "Now," he said, his voice laced with a dark amusement, "we're going to make a little proof-of-life video. Your father should know that you are in good hands, after all."

Yn's stomach twisted, dread pooling in her chest as Voldemort turned to Draco, his eyes glinting with a sadistic satisfaction. "You will assist me, Draco," he said, his voice soft but deadly. "I believe a demonstration is in order. Show her father that you are not afraid to carry out my commands."

Draco's face went pale, his eyes flickering with a mixture of horror and defiance as he looked at Voldemort. He hesitated, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features, but Voldemort's gaze hardened, his expression leaving no room for argument.

"Crucio," Voldemort said, his voice dripping with cruelty. "Do it, Draco. Or shall I do it myself?"

Draco's jaw clenched, his hands trembling as he raised his wand, his gaze flickering to Yn. She could see the torment in his eyes, the silent plea that lingered there, and for a moment, she felt a flicker of sympathy for him, a strange, unexpected pang that cut through her anger. But then she steeled herself, meeting his gaze with a fierce determination. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Draco's face twisted with anguish as he mouthed a silent apology, his hand shaking as he pointed his wand at her. "Crucio," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The pain was immediate, a searing, all-consuming agony that tore through her like wildfire. She bit down on her lip, refusing to scream, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing her pain. She could feel her body convulsing, her vision blurring as the agony overwhelmed her, but she held on, clinging to a small, fierce spark of defiance.

Draco's eyes were filled with horror, his face contorted with guilt as he watched her suffering. She could see the regret in his gaze, the self-loathing that had taken root within him, and for a moment, she almost felt sorry for him. But then the pain subsided, leaving her gasping for breath, her body shaking as she slumped to the floor.

Voldemort let out a soft, mocking laugh, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Perfect," he murmured, his gaze flicking to the recording device. "Your father will be most pleased to see that you are in capable hands."

Yn forced herself to sit up, her body trembling as she met Voldemort's gaze with a fierce, unwavering stare. "You're a monster," she whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with a quiet fury. "You can break my body, but you will never break my spirit."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, his smile fading as he regarded her with a cold, calculating gaze. "We shall see," he said softly, his voice filled with a chilling finality.

He turned to Draco, his expression unreadable as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Remember, Draco," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "she is a means to an end. Nothing more. Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment."

Draco swallowed, his face pale as he nodded, his gaze flickering to Yn with a mixture of sorrow and regret. He looked as though he wanted to speak, wanted to offer some small gesture of comfort, but he remained silent, his expression carefully blank as he turned and followed Voldemort from the room, leaving Yn alone in the cold, suffocating darkness.

As the door closed behind them, Yn let out a shaky breath, her body trembling as she wrapped her arms around herself, a fierce determination settling within her. She would survive this, no matter what it took. She would not let Voldemort or Draco or anyone else break her. She was stronger than they realized, and she would fight with every ounce of strength she possessed.

For herself. For her mother. And for the memory of the life she had lost.