Chapter 2 Draco's Miserable Life
Draco Malfoy hated his life. It was official.
The soon-to-be sixteen-year-old stuffed his hands into his pants pockets as he shuffled down one of the many hallways that graced his home. He ignored the voice in his head hat sounded like his father saying, "Malfoy's always remember good posture." He almost snorted out loud. His father would never know. He was currently locked up awaiting trial for being one of the Death Eater's to attack the Department of Mysteries. There was no way he would avoid getting thrown into Azkaban this time around.
Draco mentally shook himself, trying to think of something else. Anything else. But it was not easy to do
so. There were so many reminders. His mother's silence, his father's empty
study… His Aunt Bellatrix constantly telling him to "grow a backbone"
and "do better than your father." And then there was the ever-present
coming and going Death Eaters. Now that Lucius was gone, they all seemed to
think that the Manor was their own private hotel. He wondered who had ever suggested
it. Maybe his aunt had?
Draco snapped out of his reverie when he heard a loud crack! behind him. Turning, he saw his favorite house elf, Libby, regaining her balance.
"Yes?" he asked, a little too harshly, his negative thoughts influencing his attitude.
"Mast-t-ter Draco wished-d t-to know when the Death Eat-ters would be back. Libby is here to-to say they are back."
Draco tried to wait patiently as Libby stuttered out her statement. She had always had problems with the t sound, and it tended to be annoying. His father would have gotten rid of her years ago because of it, but Draco had pretty much claimed her as his own, and he had finally given it up. Contrary to what most people thought, he was never mean to house elves. He had even been a sort of friend to Dobby until bloody Harry Potter had tricked Lucius into freeing him. It had made Draco extremely lonely.
Libby had been there for him since, listening to him whether he wanted to just talk or if he wanted to just yell and scream about whatever problem was currently at hand. Lately, it was Death Eater hotel and bloody Potter that he yelled and screamed about.
At his request, Libby had started keeping tabs on the Death Eaters for him. Not that he would willingly admit, but Draco was scared to death of them. While they were in his home, he would spend all his time in his rooms unless absolutely necessary. Greyback was the worst one. Draco had been taught to look down on half-breeds, but the way that Greyback looked at him made Draco want to hide under his bed like a two-year-old.
And Greyback had been one of the Death Eater's o go to Diagon Alley to kidnap Ollivander.
He suppressed a shudder. "Thank you Libby. Did they succeed in their task?" he questioned. He almost wished they hadn’t because then Voldemort might get angry enough to crucio them, and as long as it was Greyback, he didn't care.
"Yes Mast-ter Draco. They have the prisoners with them now."
Draco looked at her sharply. "Prisoners, plural?" He wasn't supposed to know what they were doing-he'd been eavesdropping-but he was sure the mission was to get in, grab Ollivander, and then get out.
"Where are they now?" asked, his curiosity piqued.
"The Drawing Room, Mast-ter," she stuttered her reply.
He nodded absentmindedly, thinking about who it could be that was extra. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed Libby. Then, taking a deep breath, he mad his way to the Drawing Room.
When Fred came to, he was acutely aware of his pounding head. Then he heard voices, arguing. He wanted to tell them to bugger off, but then he suddenly remembered what had happened.
Diagon Ally. His new friend, Melody. The attack. And of course, his own stupidity.
Ignoring the pain in his head, he snapped his eyes open. The first thing he noticed was that he lying on a carpeted floor in a rather large room. And by large, he meant almost-as-big-as-the-Great-Hall-at-Hogwarts large.
Where in the world was he?
He then noticed the people around him. The werewolf, Greyback, Bellatrix Lestrange, and a third person, whom Fred thought was the one who'd attacked him at Diagon Alley. He tried to focus on their conversation.
"-stunned Simon and I didn't have time to go after him. I was angry at the blood-traitor!" his attacker spat out.
"If you were angry at him, then why didn't you kill him? The Dark Lord gave you a specific task, and you failed to do just what he wanted!" Bellatrix hissed back.
“We got the wandmaker-and I wanted to punish the whelp for what he'd done! Killing him was too quick! He’ll pay for getting my brother caught!”
Greyback made a noise of annoyance. "You should have just said you wanted to torture someone!"
They continued to argue, and Fred was getting more and more of a bad feeling about this. From what he could gather from them, was that Ollivander was supposed to be the only prisoner, as ordered by Voldemort. The only reason that he was still alive and not dead back in the Alley was because the Death Eater he'd dueled with and then stunned, had been his attacker's brother.
And if there was anything he knew about brotherly bonds, it was to never hurt one because the other wouldn't be happy. In this case, the unhappy brother was totally insane.
They must have realized he was awake, because they stopped talking and looked
down at him.
"Well, well, awake are we?" Bellatrix sneered down at him.
"Well," Fred managed to get out,"it's a rather deep subject." It was a lame joke, but Fred wasn't about to let their talk of killing and torture get to him. Or at least, he would try not to let it get to him.
"So, where's old Moldy-shorts?"
It was the wrong thing to say. The next thing he knew, Bellatrix had pointed her wand at him and had yelled "Crucio!"
Pain, unbearable pain. His whole body felt like it was on fire. This pain was nothing compared to whatever curse had been used on him earlier. In the back of his mind he realized he was screaming. How had Harry survived this in his fourth year?
After a moment, the curse let up, but it had felt like an eternity to him. His throat felt slightly raw from screaming, and he was trembling uncontrollably.
"I've heard all about you, Weasley," she spat. "Always joking, you and your twin. Think everything is funny. Well I'll have you know that when we're finished with you, even the thought of laughter will hurt."
Despite himself, Fred felt a tremor of fear shoot through him.
"Oh, so now you want to keep him," Greyback snorted.
"Just remember why!" his attacker snarled.
"Well, it's your fault if the Dark Lord is angry, but I suppose he might be useful. The Weasley's are big Dumbledore supporters, and are most likely connected to the Order of the Phoenix. I think the Dark Lord will agree...he might prove to be very useful." She smiled evilly down at him, and he glared back, keeping his mouth shut-for now.
"Take him to the north cellar!” she shouted, and walked away. Fred wondered at “north cellar.” Was there more than one? Then he remembered Ollivander's absence. Perhaps he was in a different one? They apparently didn't want them together.
Greyack and his attacker-Fred decided to call him Bad Breath-grabbed an arm each, and hauled Fred to his feet. "Oi, do you happen to know what a toothbrush is?" Bad Breath immediately tightened his grip on his arm.
"Shut it, if you know what's good for you."
Merlin, but he was going to have a hand shaped bruise on his arm by the time he let go.
As they dragged him out of the room-he was rather embarrassed to realize he couldn't walk-he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking up toward the second floor balcony, he thought he saw someone for a split second looking down at him. Green eyes met gray for a moment, then whoever it was disappeared. Then they were going down a hallway, and then down a flight of stairs.
Note to self, he thought, getting dragged down thirty stone steps is rather painful.
A barred door was open, and he was thrown into the room.
"Welcome to your new home!" Bad Breath said as he enthusiastically gestured around the drab surroundings. "I hope you enjoy your stay! We like to be gracious hosts."
Bad Breath laughed cruelly, and slammed the dungeon door, leaving Fred to curl into a ball.
Draco had been watching everything. He'd felt physically sick as Weasley's screams tore through the air. He shuddered to think what they had in store for him, and how long he would last. He vaguely wondered which twin it was. He actually had enjoyed the pranks they had always been playing at school, as long as he wasn’t the recipient. Last year at school, with Umbridge as the D.A.D.A. professor and then eventually headmaster, he had totally loved it. The fireworks display during the O.W.L. exams had been priceless.
He must have realized someone was looking at him, because as they dragged him out out of the room, he looked up to the balcony where Draco was hiding, and made eye contact with him. It startled Draco, and he quickly stepped back into the shadows.
His dreams were haunted that night with a green-eyed red head screaming at him to help while his aunt laughed and crucioed him.