(christine lestrange face claim = sasha kichigina)
'the loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.'
[f. scott fitzgerald, the great gatsby]
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Blinding pain, like a thousand white-hot knives boring into her skin, eclipsed Adeline's senses as the Cruciatus curse met her back. She screamed instantaneously in a mixture of heavy sobs and agony that ricocheted off the walls. It felt like someone was stepping on her chest, forcing the breath from her lungs; like breaking bones and throbbing, endless cutting. It was hard to even comprehend the dark hardwood floors beneath her, or the hint of a sadistic half-smirk on the face of the Lestrange girl standing above her.
Like mother, like daughter.
Christine stopped the curse—although there was no relief in her doing so, as Addie, trembling uncontrollably on the ground, continued to sob in the aftermath of the pain. Christine stepped around her, like a vulture circling its prey; gripping her wand so tightly her knuckles began turning white.
"YOU THINK YOU'RE SO CLEVER, HUH? DIVERTING THE SPELL?" Christine bellowed, her chest heaving up and down, but Addie could've sworn it was Bellatrix's voice. "YOU COULD'VE KILLED HER!"
"...That was the plan—" Adeline mustered, wincing as she was met with a hard kick to the stomach—and screaming once more as the blinding red light of the torture curse emitted from Christine's wand again.
The pain seemed to last longer than ever before: so excruciatingly unbearable that, after a while, it felt like the screams leaving her mouth were distant. Everything felt far away—as though she were outside in the rain, hearing these sobs as muffled noises, looking in through the glass at this scene rather than being centre-stage for it. The pain was messing with her head. She felt it creeping into every fibre of her body, leaving nowhere for her to hide—as though she needed to escape this body yet couldn't find the exit in its four tall walls.
The red light vanished, but the pain remained; her body tensing and twitching occasionally as her sobs continued. At this point, Addie couldn't tell if her sobs were loud or completely silent. It felt like her head was underwater; any noise from above the surface was a muffled blur of incomprehensible sound—aside from a loud ringing in her ears that wouldn't stop.
Through her half-open eyelids, Addie saw Christine kneel down to her height and reach for something on the floor. Her mouth was moving—she was saying something, yelling, but the words meant nothing to Addie beneath the piercing high-pitched ringing in her ears.
Christine suddenly grabbed a handful of Addie's hair and pulled her head up, who felt something sharp pressed against her neck for the second time that night; dangerously teetering on the edge of a cut. The Lestrange was angry—no, vile—in whatever the hell she was saying; blaring her teeth just like her mother, like an animal. The dagger in her hand was shaking, and Addie feared what it would feel like if it slipped.
"—AND IF YOU EVER TRY SHIT LIKE THAT AGAIN—" As the ringing in Addie's ears died down, the sound of Christine's screaming voice became steadily clearer.
But then a new voice interrupted.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
She knew that voice.
"Nothing, God," Christine sighed exasperatedly. The blade of the dagger left Addie's neck, and she felt a small sense of relief—until, that is, the Lestrange's frustrated fist met her nose with a crack, and once more she was slumped on the ground as Christine dropped her hair and stood. Addie's face throbbed as something warm and thick trickled down to her lip.
Through stinging eyes, she looked up to see Draco's horrified face looking back at her from the doorway. As he stepped quickly into the room, his voice was feverish with urgency and an underlying emotion she couldn't quite pinpoint. "Shit, Christine! You can't do that! You're gonna get us all killed—"
"SHE ALMOST KILLED MY MOTHER!" Christine bellowed, stepping toward him, and he visibly cringed at the unapologetic loudness of her voice.
"I don't care! Take your anger out on a bloody pillow or something, not the fucking daughter of the Dark Lord!" He hissed, towering over her, eyeing the way her fist tightened around the handle of the dagger she still held. "And give me that, you look like a psycho."
"You've always been one for flattery, Draco," Christine spat sarcastically as she dropped the dagger onto the floor instead of his open palm. Adeline heard her heavy footsteps recede and the door slam shut as she left the room.
Addie didn't know what to do. She remained on the floor and lifted a shaking hand to wipe the tears trickling down her cheeks—but they just kept coming. It was hard to breathe, it was hard to think, it was hard to comprehend Draco's hands on her arms as he tried to help her stand.
He slung her arm around his shoulders, keeping one hand around her wrist and the other firmly around her waist. They struggled to walk, as she couldn't hold herself up properly when her body just felt numb and littered with pain all at once. She stumbled, which almost sent them both tumbling down—and although they had made it to the door in almost one piece, there was still a long trek back to her cell.
"Wait," he muttered, and lowered her to the floor; moving one arm under her legs and the other around her back before standing up. With Addie in his arms, Draco kicked the door open with his foot and stepped out into the dim hallway; the manor eerily silent as he carried her through it.
The side of her face leaned against his chest. Although Addie hated the idea of being in such proximity to Draco, let alone finding comfort in his physical contact, it was the first time someone had held her in an almost-embrace in months—so she clung to the feeling and closed her eyes; pretending she was somewhere else, with someone else. That this was Harry carrying her back to bed after falling asleep on the couch. That this was his chest she leaned against; that these were his arms holding her.
But it wasn't him.
She heard the familiar loud creak of her cell door as Draco opened it. By this stage, all Addie felt was immeasurably exhausted and sad as she squeezed her eyes shut even harder; refusing to open them and face this haunting reality that he was not here with her, or that she had no idea where he even was.
Addie shivered once he lowered her to the cold ground and let go. She opened her eyes and turned her head away from him. The clink of the chains echoed as Draco did them up, but in noticing the raw skin around her wrists from the metal, he didn't tighten them as much.
"Look at me," he said quietly, kneeling down on the ground to match her level. She didn't, but as his gaze remained on her, Addie gave in and turned her head toward him.
His wand was pointed at her.
Addie flinched and tried to move away, feeling her breath hitch in fear; her muscles tensing—"Episkey."
She felt the bones in her broken nose shift as they healed. He waved his wand once more and the blood that had been running down to her lip disappeared. Draco tucked the wand back into his jacket. Their gazes met momentarily, but he quickly looked away; avoiding the emotion in her eyes. He stood abruptly and moved to the cell door.
"Draco," she spoke hoarsely. Addie didn't think he'd even hear her, as her voice was barely above a whisper, but he stopped. His back was to her, but he was listening, at least. She struggled to get her words out without crying. "Help me."
Still facing the door, he whispered back, "I can't, Adeline."
"Please," her voice broke a little. "You have to get me out of here!"
"They'll know it was me!" he hissed. "I don't have a choice—"
"You don't get it!" Addie stressed, raising her voice. "Dabria is too strong. Voldemort thinks he has control but he doesn't—!"
She was interrupted by a loud clunk as he opened the door, refusing to listen to her.
"Draco, please!"
He paused and turned around, finally meeting her gaze.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. Addie watched helplessly as he slipped outside and closed the door loudly before she could protest.
It was darker than before inside the cell, and although she felt the urging desire to fight back, at this point it was difficult to even remain conscious with her body weak from the Cruciatus Curse.
An ache in her chest grew which turned into a lump in her throat which turned into quiet sobs. She hated herself for not fighting back when she could those months ago when they took her. She hated her body for being too tired to do anything to save itself.
Because now, she has no one. She has no idea where Harry could be--or Hermione, or Ron, or Ginny. But really, it didn't matter where they were because they weren't here, with her. Addie didn't know she could miss anything as much as she missed them: the way she physically ached for them to be near; for their friendship, their warmth, their love. Even their mere presence would be enough.
Now, she was more alone than ever before; even more so than in her early years in the mansion, because at least when she was there, she didn't know what she was missing, or who she could be missing.
Now there were very clear holes in her heart, shaped distinctly in the outlines of those four people she may never see again in this small, isolated cell.
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a/n:
i hate u christine
i hate u draco
i love writing this story
i love u
-g <3