About Last Night

The End of War

Darkness drowned the room, entrapping the stench of death. Everything that once had been so refined was now shattered and useless—including them. The Malfoy family had fallen from Pureblood grace and were now servants and prisoners of their Master. They had been guaranteed the promise land but were deserted in the treacherous underworld. Lucius and Narcissa were dejected by the injustice they received at the hand of their Dark Lord, but Draco faced the sharp, disillusioned reality of what his parents and their bigoted devotions brought him.

It all came covered in blood.

The first time he saw a prisoner being taken to the cellar of Malfoy Manor, Narcissa had promptly escorted him away, trying to hide the gore that came with war. She only managed to shield him twice more before Draco was used as a weapon of torture.

He threw up the first time he had to cast the Cruciatus Curse on a captive. The anger was easy to conjure, for he was defeated and full of resentment for the world he was forced into, to endure the lowly status they now had, but the screaming of his victim scaled up his spine and electrocuted him. The older Death Eaters laughed at his inability and showed Draco what treatment prisoners of war actually received.

Then came the day he recognized one of the faces lined up for questioning. It was Luna Lovegood. She had been dragged in from the cellar by her hair; she had kicked and flailed to no end, but her obvious undernourishment was no match against hefty, horrible men. Draco had never thought much about the Ravenclaw before, but he had seen her as others did: harebrained like a child. Certainly that was how she appeared when she was surrounded by Death Eaters ready to begin their tireless investigations on the whereabouts of Harry Potter. Lovegood was beaten, but not once did she beg for mercy or shed a tear in their presence.

When they were at the end of using her as a punching bag, a line of freshly apprehended prisoners were brought in by the snatchers. Included had been one Dean Thomas. One look at Lovegood and he fought several Death Eaters until he ended a heap beside her. When Thomas' dark eyes found Draco's in the midst of darkness, his disgust could light up the room.

"She's just a girl," he hissed as Draco led the captives back to the cellar. "Only cowards do what you just did."

Lovegood dragged her bruised body back to a corner of the cell she had taken as her own space. Mister Ollivander crawled to her, running a comforting hand through her hair, whispering fatherly words of comfort that could never heal the wounds she now owned. Draco was sure he heard a small sob choke past her lips before hiding her face in her broken kneecaps.

"If they're going to kill us," said Thomas, gripping the bar of the gate before Draco could close it, "then you do it. I've seen what they do to girls they capture...If you have some compassion, Malfoy, kill her before the Death Eaters get their hands on her."

The worst Draco had seen had yet to arrive. It took only a few weeks following Christmas for the Golden Trio to be brought in.

He had been present countless of times for an investigation led by his Auntie Bella. She was the best executioner in the game (especially since she aspired to meet every expectation her Master had for his followers). Mental as she was, Bellatrix was brilliant and creative. Her interrogations were never boring to those on her level of insane. Draco had been able to cope as best as possible through her creations, but with Hermione Granger on the floor, twisting, crying, bleeding, screaming, her skin carved on after being set on fire inside out, Draco was certain he would never be the same again. In the spectrum of Bellatrix's bloodlust, Granger did not rank the foulest, but there was something about innocence being destroyed right before his eyes that was far more gruesome than mutilation and murder. Or perhaps he saw in Granger what he felt.