Yours in Mayhem |Dramione

23 crucio: entry seven

Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper.

Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper.

The boy continued writing the words written on his family crest on for the hundredth page. His hands are aching, the words looked more like jumbled hoops now than what they are intended to be. The quill has slipped from his already sweaty and shaking fingers on more than one occasion-- ink spilled all over the page but he wrote on like he was possessed.

Purity will always win. Always win. No exceptions. Always. All the time. Never a chance of a slip.

He was not supposed to be at the Malfoy Manor, he didn't want to come home. He wants to stay at Hogwarts where everyone walked around him with glass slippers as they should-- spineless twats. He didn't need a break to go Easter Egg hunting in the blasted haunted manor. The Dark Lord will not decorate Easter eggs with him so it doesn't make sense.

But his father wanted him home. His word is law. Ever since the Dark Lord took his wand, his father became more controlling of the boy. He needed someone to bend to his will-- a condition perfectly fulfilled by the boy.

Everyone just wants to make the boy follow. Everyone wants him to obey, be loyal and faithful. Above all, do the Dark Lord's bidding.

The boy doesn't know what he wants. He doesn't know what's right anymore. He never expected this much blood.

He never expected Hermione Granger being dragged around by his aunt screaming bloody murder.

She screamed a lot in my dreams but not this way. As a matter of fuck, she screamed, panted and moaned my name, he thought dementedly. Give me material here, Granger. I've ran out of stroke material. You're not even trying.

His body revolted from what his mind is trying to think. The boy doubled over and retched, he fell from his chair and grabbed the nearest bin. But there was nothing to throw up. He hasn't eaten anything since yesterday, hasn't slept at all since last night either. If he closed his eyes now he might black out and just wake up hours later-- he doesn't want that either.

He doesn't want anything.

If he can't have it-- he doesn't want it.

He remembered the screams and the grip of his fingers around the mouth of the cold steel bin tightened. He wished away the echoes in his head but it wouldn't go. He was the one who affirmed it. The moment they were dragged in, he knew it was them. The Golden Trio. Weaselbee, Saint Potter with a jinxed face and her.

And her.

The breath hitched in his throat and he felt like throwing up again. He spat out acid. It was sour and tasted god awful on his tongue.

He has no choice, you see. Even though they asked him, they already have an inkling that it was in fact the Golden Trio themselves. His father saw Hermione Granger second year and it was the boy's fault that her face was imprinted in his father's head-- his stupid eleven year old self can't stop yapping on about her. For one whole summer it was Hermione Granger this, Hermione Granger that. Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger.

Hermione sodding Granger.

Hermione sodding Granger who was supposed to be brave. Who was supposed to never cry. Who was supposed to never get caught or beg or bleed. Hermione sodding Granger who he was never supposed to hurt.

He was literally inches from her, he could have shouted, took the next hex or offed his own aunt. Get disowned by his family to spare her from the pain.

But what did he say, right? Empty words.

Admit it. All the noise in your head will only make sense when you admit it. Come on. Let us hear it. The Dark Lord is not here. Father, Mother and Aunt Bellatrix aren't here either. It's just us. You- the one who won't admit it and me- the one who don't want to be admitted to St. Mungo's for repressed obsessive behavior. Admit it.

"I don't want her. I don't care about her. They all deserve to die screaming. Filthy mudblood. Shameful. Filth. Disgusting," he whispered through his teeth as he dragged the quill on his skin. He saw Bellatrix do it to her. Saw the blood. Saw the inscriptions. The way she wrote 'Mudblood' on Hermione because that's what she is, right? Everyone in the Malfoy Manor said so. That's why he's a hero. He's a hero here but not in Hogwarts, never there but here it's possible- the possibilities are endless. The Dark Lord himself tells the boy so.

He wrote on the arm without the all seeing Dark Mark. Blood dripped on the pale skin as the letters got written with the steel tip of the quill.

The boy has carved his one confession.

COWARD

Small and barely visible. So different from hers. His could be removed with one flick of a wand. Hers is forever. She didn't want it but she had to--she needed to hold siege. Needed. She always needed to do something compared to him who doesn't really have a purpose.

He let the pain shoot through his skin and imbed itself into his system. He grit his teeth but didn't cry out, the feeling prickled the back of his throat. He was numb-- he had been in the deep, cold, frozen end since the beginning of seventh year but the moment they dragged her in the same room as him kicking and screaming, he was plucked out from the numbing cold and then back to reality. It was worse than being frozen. He'd rather be numb. He'd rather be unaware.

He'd rather get his consciousness punched out of him.

He'd rather be without his wand.

Honestly, there's a lot of unpleasant things that he'd rather happen to him.

But here he is without a wand-- so there. He's finally getting what's coming to him.

They all will. He knows it. Harry Potter. Ron Weasley. Hermione Granger. They will all get what they deserve. Death's fingers are hovering each and everyone of their heads. Who to pick? This one to go as a legend? This one to go as an unlikely hero? This one to go as the one thing the world will never recover from?

The one thing he will never recover from.

This though he knows. Draco Malfoy will survive this war.

No matter what?

No matter what, you spineless, pathetic coward.

I don't want to be you.

I agree. I'd rather be anyone but me right now but I'll survive.

It's all I'll have in the very least.
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Wow. I finished reading Deathly Hallows this week and wow I cried from Hedwig to the snapping of the Elder wand. Also, I broke my dad's three week old couch. He can't be angry at me but he's so heartbroken. We haven't even seen each other in a long time. Wow, I never realized that my life will get this dramatic! XD

Song at the top is 'Fine on the Outside' by Priscilla Ahn, heartbreaking cover by David Kim. Man, listen to this song. Feels like someone gave me a heartrub.

Guys, 9.1+K! You are all so awesomeeeeeee!