Never • The Lost Daughter | A Draco Malfoy Love Story

Chapter 88 - Madness

I had the time to examine my arm while the Death Eaters changed shifts. There was a word carved on it.

Traitress

A drop of blood dropped to the floor.

I tore and I was glad I to do so. It was sadness, and I felt happy for feeling anything else other than pain.

The next time Voldemort visited me, he kneed down next to me and put a hand on my head. Bellatrix was next to him.

"She doesn't scream when we torture her anymore. It's like she has turned immune to the Curse."

"Do you think she feels it?"

"I think she does, my Lord, it's just that she doesn't react to it anymore. I think we ought to cut down the torturing. It could cause a brain damage. She could go insane," said Bellatrix.

"Leave me alone with my daughter," said Voldemort. Bellatrix bowed and left. "I don't want this for you," he said, turning to me. "When you are in pain, I am in pain as well," he said. I only managed to cringe. "I do not wish for you to suffer anymore," he shook his head.

"Kill me," I managed to say in my sour throat. "Please."

I didn't want to beg him. Of all things, I regretted this the most.

"Did you change your mind about me?" he said quietly.

"Your persuasion methods are staggering," I answered, giving it all the strength I had been left with.

"You will learn to love me as a father one way or another. And irony isn't a part of it. Otherwise, someone will get hurt."

"Don't kill Draco," I begged.

"Enjoy your torturing. I will come back and find you reformed," he promised.

The torturing continued. Three or four days later, Voldemort came back.

"She is barely alive. She hasn't touched her food in three days," said Bellatrix to him. "She is barely drinking any water, too. I think she has decided to starve herself to death," she said and Voldemort's look shot up to her quickly.

"She can't die, do you understand?" he said and grasped her arms. "She can't die!" he screamed. He walked up to me worried and tried to hold me up. "You should have called me earlier!"

"I thought this is what you wanted, my Lord!" she said.

"Shut it! My daughter can't die! Get her some help. We are getting her upstairs," he screamed at her. She ran back upstairs and Voldemort and I were left alone. "Annalise. You have been punished enough. I know you've changed, now," he said so-called-lovingly. "We are going to be a family."

Voldemort lifted me up in his arms himself. Yes, himself. I wanted to fight back but my brain couldn't work right. He handed me to a Death Eater.

"Get her to Draco's room. Do whatever you can to get her back to normal. Let her rest. Give her a good amount of food - but not too much! It could damage her stomach after so many days of starvation. But most of all, no one will torture her again. She will have everything she wants from now on. And let her sleep in warmth. She is going to live. Oh, and I'll be staying here. I shall be here in case something happens."

*     *     *

I didn't recover for two or three weeks. I couldn't communicate in any way. I suffered from severe fever most of the time. Voldemort brought the best Healers to the Manor to take care of me and spend many hours with me. I slept most of the days out. Soon I started eating without getting sick, the fever burnt out and I could start feeling my body again. A few days after that, I was able to walk.

"Extensive torture methods can be damaging to the brain. I have to admit, I don't know why she's still alive. I have seen others who have gone through this. However, most of the times torturing for so many hours and on a daily basis leads to madness. Most go insane after the first two months, maybe less than that - if they survive, of course. The fact that she can talk and move and perform simple tasks is very encouraging and she has only been recovering for a few weeks. Some take years to go back to their previous situation, but I don't think that will be the case here. Dear Annalise is very strong. Maybe she'll be one of the few cases that will recover fully in little time." All the Healers would say pretty much the same thing.

Draco was there. During the few times that I would feel what was happening around me, I would feel him stroking me. When I would wake up sweating, he would be holding me. He talked to me every night.

"When he dies we will remember this and think about how strong we were. When this is all over we will outlive our years together. I always wanted to go to France. Or travel to America. And I always wanted to see the Great Wall of China as well. Those muggles make some beautiful things sometimes. We could travel around the world. Just you, me, two broomsticks and nothing else behind us. And when we run out of places maybe we could come back here. We could build a home - just, not a Manor, okay? - and we will settle down. Maybe... I don't know... I mean... We could make it official at some point. The ring suits you so much," he said and looked at that emerald stone. "Maybe make a family of our own. And we will bring our children up the way we want to. The right way. We will never be cross. We will be good parents."

He would talk to me about the stupidest and weirdest dreams he ever had. It didn't matter that he took it too far. All he wanted to do was talk to me. He wanted to make me feel like I wasn't alone in that dull room.

Most of the times I wouldn't speak but I would at least smile. I liked it when we made dreams.

Maybe someday the world would turn and we wouldn't need to live with these merciless people. Maybe someday we would be free of all these troubles. Maybe we would grow old together.

This prospect seemed far away from us, so foreign and so distant. We both doubted we would live all these things, or at least we wouldn't live them the way we wanted. But dreaming was the only thing that could give me a smile.

Voldemort would visit me often. Too often, to be exact.

"You are much better, the doctors say," he'd say. "Soon enough you will be strong enough and we will make up the time that has been lost, my daughter. And of course, we will make a feast. We ought to celebrate your recovery."

I would never answer him, although my ability to talk came back quickly. In a month I was physically better than before and was gaining my weight back normally. In two months I started looking like my old self.

In a way, Voldemort was actually treating me like his daughter. After he saw me a minute away from death, he'd never tortured me or let anyone torture me. He would present me with gifts I never accepted and he'd give me grins to which I'd never respond to.

"How are we going to deal with this, Annalise?" said Draco. "Is this going to be our life?"

"At least we will live it together," I would answer.

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