Half-Dimension

part 1

Draco exhaled shakily, barely capable of breathing. His body trembled slightly, and his hands shook where they were placed. His head pounded with a vigor that almost caused him to black out from the added pain that flooded his entire body. With weak arms, he attempted to lift himself up, but it was useless. His attempt only resulted in him falling right back down onto the tiled floor. His vision blurred into nothing but swirls of randomized colors. His entire body ached as though he had been hit with the Cruciatus Curse at least once. He had difficulty remembering what had happened in the last 24 hours. He heard voices, felt a pair of strong arms grip him, and he heard a scream pierce through his pounding temples. It took quite a long moment for him to realize that it was his scream. He... he was screaming. Though he was not sure if it was from the pain, the exhaustion, or the fear he currently felt, he supposed it mattered little. He felt himself being... carried? ... and laid on a bed, a very nice, very warm, very soft bed. He did not know anyone in the manor who would be willing to do this. His father would sometimes, but more often than not, he simply left him where he had curled into a pitiful ball of nothing but skin and tears and pain.

"What is this? Who was this? Where am I?" He wondered to himself, for there was no way that the arms that had grabbed him were his father's; he would know, after all. Yet it was far too strong to be his mother's. His mother was scarcely able to lift him and typically resorted to levitation magic. It was unfortunate, therefore, that before he could do much else to try and clear his head and focus on his current situation, his vision descended into pure black, and he fainted.

Draco was shivering on the floor as his father stood above him, his eyes cold, dark, and filled with nothing but disappointment as they glared down at him yet again. He supposed that he should have prepared for this; it was nothing but naivete to believe he could get away. Idiotic thinking at its best. Yet he still somehow continued to remain stupidly optimistic.

"I am disappointed in you, Draco," his father said, his words soft and yet all the more piercing for it. He knew not to say anything; nothing good would come of such things. Anything he would speak now would only raise Lucius' ire, and that was most certainly not something he needed in this situation. So, instead, he simply looked at the stone floor between his hands, watching his fingers tremble, his body shivering from the curse that had just been lifted, the echoes of it still radiating through him. What cursed luck. His form ached and ached, and the pain was somehow still immense.

The silence was what could be heard between the two males. Not the peaceful kind either, the horrifying, torturous kind. One was too scared to speak a word, and the other, too angry to put his thoughts into words. Draco's breath came out in heavy pants, shaking with every exhale and trembling with every inhale.

"You know quite clearly that I do not take disobedience lightly, and yet once more you did exactly that. Perhaps I need to... up the stakes a bit," Lucius said, the last part being said in a far more questioning voice, almost... almost mocking in a way. Though he was not entirely certain he could explain how. Draco almost whimpered aloud at that thought. He knew his Father could be most creative in his punishments, and that was not something he wished to be doomed to experience. Was it not enough that his father had already expressed his anger and annoyance at him?

"Yes," the elder Malfoy hissed. "I think that perhaps that is the best decision."

"Father, wait! Please!" Draco called out, fear overtaking his senses. He knew he was not to speak, but the voice his father used frightened him beyond what was normal. He was fearful of speaking out against his father, as anyone with a right mind would be, but even more so at the images of various punishments which may be shoved on him that his mind was concocting.

"Would you dare to speak out against me?" His father laughed, anger still detectable in his voice. Draco closed his eyes, casting his head down towards the floor again. What was he thinking? His Father tightened the grip on his wand, his other hand idly spinning that cursed serpent staff.

"I think it is time I teach you a proper lesson in obedience, Draconis. I suppose the other ones simply were not enough." Tears blocked the 13-year-old's vision as horror came over him like a wave. What would his father do? The uncertainty was almost too much for him to take.

He was so caught up with his thoughts that he did not see the wand being pointed towards him, nor did he hear the whisper of 'Crucio.' He only felt the agonizing pain that came with the unforgivable curse of torture.

HE SCREAMED!

Draco lurched upwards and felt two pairs of arms holding him down, forcing him back into a lying position—two sets that he fought against valiantly. His eyes flew open the moment he woke from that horrific memory-dream, unable to comprehend anything. He said nothing, but his sheer force of resistance made up for that. At least, it did until he felt a hand on the front of his neck, gripping his jawline. Then he froze, falling back into the bed, utterly terrified. His body was trembling uncontrollably. He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable punishment—the pain, the laughter, anything.

He opened them in confusion when he felt nothing more than the hand, which was not even tightening. He saw two figures above him. One slightly older than him, the other perhaps his own age.

"Who are you?"