This
is my first attempt at HP fic, so please keep that in mind. Takes place in the future, and the entire
thing is in Draco's POV. Much of the
story will be in flashbacks, so try to keep that straight.
Rated
PG13 for some strong language.
Disclaimer
: The only HP things I own are a
T-shirt, all four of the printed books, a reserved copy of the fifth, and TSS
on VHS. I don't claim to own anything
else. :)
Truth and
Consequences
Chapter 1 :
The Hardest Part is Waking Up
How long has it been now?
How long have I been in this cell?
The days have almost melded into
one. At first, I could keep track of the
days of the week, and the times of day.
After the torture started, it got harder and harder to think of anything
but just living. I know it's been a
while now. My hair, once well groomed
and cared for had grown long and neglected, half way down my back. It was in large knots and smelled. I had a beard that was long and stained with
blood and vomit. Once, after a torture
session I thought I felt a rat trying to make a nest in it. But that particular session had been rougher
than usual. I was only conscious for a few moments before drifting off; drifting
off somewhere with her.
The scene was always the same, in my
mind. I walk over the top of a
hill. I see her, sitting on a porch of a
house I don't recognize. I begin to run
to her. She hears me, and her eyes fill
with tears. She gets up and runs to meet
me, the tears flowing down her cheeks.
When we finally meet, I swing her up into my arms and hold her as
tightly as she's holding me. After what
seems like years, we separate from our hold on each other long enough for our
lips to meet. Our first kiss in years is
almost as sweet as it was the first time.
Soft yet passionate, but full of promises. She utters my name in my ear then.
"Draco... don't ever leave me
again.... Draco.."
"Draco... Draco...
Draco?" The voice is louder, more
persistent. I realize then that I've
drifted off again. I slowly open my eyes. It's Jacob, my fathers' second in
command. He has a bowl in his hands and
pushes it through the cell bars to me.
"Better eat this up quickly. Your father wants to see you again when he
gets back." He told me.
When I was growing up, Jacob
Whitling's father had been good friends with mine. Jacob and I had grown up around each other,
but he was several years older than me. We had
never really had a lot in common, and just kind of tolerated each other. When the war had started, Jacob and his
father had immediately joined my father and the Dark Lord. When Jacob's father was killed in one of the
first scrimmages, Jacob had become my father's right hand man. Jacob loved to rub that fact in my face, at
least twice a day. I knew it was part of
the torture. I really didn't give a
shit. I had made my decision long before
the war. My father had just never been
able to fully accept it. I thought that
maybe that's why he still kept me here.
I knew that part of the reason was to remind me every day of how much I
had humiliated my own father.
Sometimes the torture was
magic. Sometimes it was physical. It was always emotional.
Sometimes
he would let Jacob take a turn. But
every time it would be to just within an inch of my life. Sometimes he would cast a spell, instantly healing
my wounds only to beat me again.
Sometimes he would let one of the house elves into the cell to clean my
wounds. Sometimes I would get no care at
all. In the beginning I tried to care
for the more serious wounds as best I could, cleaning them with the meager
amount of water I was given. I gave up
after I realized I would never be rescued.
I was going to die here, in the basement of Malfoy Manor in one of the dungeons.
I took the bowl that Jacob offered
me. Cold soup as usual. It looked like there were a few vegetables in
it this time, not just the broth. This
had been another one of the mind games I was tortured with. Sometimes my father himself would bring me a
huge banquet table with all my favorite foods.
Sometimes it would be a stale piece of bread.
Sometimes it was nothing.
I drank the soup down, slowly. Jacob watched me, a sneer on his face.
"Look at you now, Draco. You used to think you were so much better
than me. Look who's the better one
now. Stupid mudblood lover." He spit at me and laughed, walking away.
The
door to the dungeons slammed shut, and once again I was alone.
Mudblood lover.
My father had taken a dagger and
carved it into my back and chest one of the first weeks I was here. There was one day that he had given me a quill
and parchment and forced me to write it over and over until I filled the
parchment. The ink was enchanted to disappear
after only a few seconds.
It was one of father’s favorite
things to call me now. Not that he had
ever called me by any endearing terms while I was growing up. Mudblood lover. Stupid mudblood lover.
And I was.
Trying to gather some strength for
the next session which was coming, I crawled into my corner and fell into a
restless sleep remembering the beginning. For me and my Mudblood future.
A/N:
I hope to have another chapter sometime this week. I work full time, and don't have a lot of
free time, but I will do my best. Hope I
didn't confuse you too much. Feel free
to review. If you're gonna flame, please
try to be nice. Toodles!