Drarry Oneshots 2

Sweet Agony

This was how it had started, since the moment he had stepped into Platform 9 ¾ to take the train to Hogwarts for Eighth Year. And Draco had thought that either the students would get tired of tormenting him and drop it eventually, or he would get used to it after a while. But the bullying and the name calling only got worse and worse, and tolerating it got harder and harder.

Draco had never said anything. He'd never complained when sometimes students would throw the Stinging Hex at him in the Great Hall or Diffindo his robes into useless shreds. He'd never even defended himself, and he certainly hadn't reported any of them to McGonagall, even though she had pulled him aside the first day back and specifically asked him to report any kind of bullying or harassment straight to her.

Draco had just kept his head down and took all the hits, one after the other. And now he was here, in the Hospital Wing. Severely injured by one of the many people who hated him. And Draco already knew that once he got discharged, he would continue to keep his head down, to not fight back and to let them hurt him and call him by all the foul names they could think of.

Until when?

Draco didn't know.

August 29th, 1998 (2 months earlier)

The musty door of Borgin and Burkes gave a loud squeak when Draco pushed it in and stepped inside the dark, old store. The entire place smelled like death, and everything in the store was under a thick layer of dust.

Draco was there to pick up the items his father had ordered from Borgin the previous month. Apparently, nothing in the world could stand in the way of Lucius Malfoy's desire for collecting rare and priceless dark artifacts. Not even a house arrest sentence.

After the War, the Ministry had taken all their house elves from them and now the only living creatures inside that enormous manor were Draco, his mother, father, and the occasional Ministry employee coming in to check on his father.

So it was up to Draco to help with these kinds of things while he still could. In two days, Draco too would leave that ghost house behind.

"How can I help you, sir?" Borgin squinted at Draco from behind the counter. Draco pulled the hood of his black cloak back to reveal his face.

"I'm here to pick up for my father."

Borgin immediately recognized Draco, falling into a deep curtsey. "Young Mr. Malfoy! How delightful it is to see you here once again. It's been a long time."

A flurry of images rushed through Draco's mind.

A vanishing cabinet in here.
An identical one hidden in the room of requirements at Hogwarts.
The sound of his Aunt Bella's Maniacal laughter ringing through the school's corridors.

"Has it?" Draco gritted his teeth as his Dark Mark started to itch uncomfortably. He hated this place with his entire being.

"It has, indeed." Borgin gave him an empty smile, showing off his disgusting yellowed teeth. "Tell me, how's your father doing? The house arrest must be really hard for him. Poor man."

Draco was getting more and more agitated by the second, but he would rather die than give Borgin the satisfaction of knowing that. He wouldn't be humiliated by this man who himself wasn't any better than Draco and his father.

"The Manor's a big house," he said in a cold but even voice. "Unfortunately for you, you never got the chance to see the inside but it's an amazing place to spend the rest of one's life in. If it'd been somewhere like this place that my father had been sentenced to live in," Draco made a show of looking around in distaste. "Now that would be just sad."