Sρσƚιϝყ ρʅαყʅιʂƚ ϝσɾ αʂʂαʂʂιɳʂ
ʅιɳƙҽԃ ιɳ ɱყ Ⴆισ
┈˃̶༒˂̶┈
Draco didn't get scared. Not anymore, not since his father died. Not since he had no choice but to sacrifice his life to Voldemort and become one of his deadliest assassins. He only was able to become such a lethal weapon because he was numb and emotionless to this world.
He had to be. He had lost Ava and everything else.
He became a death eater first, because of his father's stupid decisions. And then was made to do some horrible things, some things he couldn't do, like kill Dumbledore. Then the war happened and he watched the monstrous battle, watched Voldermort kill Harry Potter and his classmates. Then he watched Ava be dragged out of the great hall and sent to the dungeons.
Where she spent a year in cold darkness with nothing but a few drops of water and a roll each day to keep her breathing.
To keep his mind off his guilt, he trained and trained and trained. He could not sleep unless his body was physically exhausted. All he could think about was where she was and what was happening to her. Blaise had to physically stop him from going down there each day.
And eventually, after a few months, he had completely numbed himself and was able to forget where she was. He was sent out on missions and saw the world around him be destroyed and some of it by his hands. Everything he saw and everything he did, it ruined him. Slowly shattering his sanity, until eventually, he was the cruel, ruthless assassin Voldemort wanted.
And then he became the High General of the assassins and Voldemorts' most loyal and vicious soldier.
A year passed and Draco saw Ava again. At first, he felt nothing but then, the feelings came back and it became harder to be so robotically loyal to his Lord. His emotions returned and he decided he wanted to change the war, he wanted it to end.
He had hope.
He always had hope and it was always taken away from him.
Every. Single. Time.
Which is why he wasn't surprised when Voldemort grabbed him and pressed his wand to his head, stopping him from escaping. Stopping him from seeing Ava again. If she was alive.
Hope had consumed him and he allowed it, just like he always had and then it set him alight into agonizing flames and all hope was lost. He would never see her again and this time he wasn't surprised.
All that was left for Draco was the cold solace of the dungeons and the hope he is starved to death or infection will be the thing to take him out and end his miserable life. There is no point in having hope anymore, all that is left is the waiting game of death.
Soon, he told himself, soon.
┈˃̶༒˂̶┈
Draco had been dragged down to the dungeons in chains and thrown into the dark dungeon enclosed by caves. It was silent other than a tap of a drip somewhere deep in the caves.
Victor and Kingsley had brought him down, escorted by about a dozen other soldiers because they were afraid of the lethal assassin they had in chains. But when they unclasped his hands, freeing his hand's wrist, Draco didn't make any effort to escape and put up no fight. What was the point? He had nothing to fight for anymore, not even freedom. Not even Ava.
He looked up at Victor, the only one brave enough to unchain him and through his disheveled bloodstained and dirty hair, he saw the way Victor was looking at him.
The man had a plan.
That's what that dark, menacing look meant.
Don't bother, Draco thought, what would be the point?
Victor shoved Draco into the cell causing him to land on his front, palms painfully bracing the Stoney wet floor. Draco groaned, a devilish sort of growl and then the door squeaked shut and now draco was imprisoned, although he has been for a long while, but now he is actually behind bars.
Draco was able to sit himself up, leaning his warrior body against the bars. He needed medical attention, he needed to eat and drink but down here, he won't get any of that. He is left to die and then rot until he is nothing but food for the rats.
He must have been taken to a different dungeon because he was the only one there. Where were the trainees? The ones who didn't make it to the last tournament? The ones he is supposed to be executed with?
Draco didn't have it in him to figure out the answers to his questions, so instead, he let the darkness comfort him and eventually, fell into the strange abyss of sleep.
┈˃̶༒˂̶┈
ONE WEEK LATER
┈˃̶༒˂̶┈
Draco woke up, feeling like he was floating on water. His consciousness faded in and out like the waves in a storm. Hands held his arms, two rough hands gripping him and walking him someplace. Draco tried to raise his chin but found his own head was too heavy. All he saw, between the flashing darkness of his mind, were his feet dragging against the stone floor and another two sets of feet on either side of him, walking with strength.
But Draco knew where he was going. He knew this walk. Knew what he is in for.
Eventually, he was led into a room and thrown to the floor, where his bruised wrists are chained to manacles attached to the floor. Draco was kneeling now, with his arms lazily resting on his knees and wrists securely clasped by thick, strong manacles. His body swayed slightly as he struggled to stay awake.
His shirt was gone and he was only in his dirty, ripped blood stained trousers. His chest was red with scratches and cuts and covered in dirt.
He heard footsteps behind him but was too weak to turn his head, and too careless to see who was going to be torturing him today.
How many days has it been now?
"How long are you going to keep this up?" Kingsley asked as he walked in front of Draco.
Draco didn't look up but he did chuckle as he said, "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Torturing you?" Kingsley questioned, and Draco looked up through furrowed eyes, "Yes. Yes, I am actually."
Draco didn't respond, he only made a silent promise to himself that before he dies, he will kill this bastard.
"So please, don't answer any of the questions, keep being the arrogant dick you have always been," Kingsley crouched down in front of Draco, the one people used to describe as a lethal warrior, "but the Lord needs answers so I suggest you comply."
Why? He has nothing to live for, not anymore.
"I'd sooner die than answer Voldemort again," Draco seethed, Kingsley was close enough to strangle but the chains were the only thing stopping him.
"You're stupid," Kingsley chuckled.
"Am I?" Draco tilted his head slightly.
"You're not going to die a hero," Kingsley laughed, "You're going to die a foolish nobody. No one will remember your name. So you might as well answer the Lord's questions and make your death somewhat meaningful."
"You and your Lord can suck my—"
"Crucio."
An instant rush of agony rushed through Draco's veins and his blood turned to fire. But Draco only tensed, growling while looking his Kingsley's eyes. The veins in Draco's arms, neck and head were popping out, threatening to burst at any moment.
Kingsley stopped and Draco heaved.
"Where is the safe house?" Kingsley asked.
"I don't know," Draco yelled. And he truly didn't. He was never told about a safe house but he assumed that's where Theo, Blaise and the others escaped too. Where he could have escaped too.
Kingsly Crucioed Draco again.
And when he stopped, Draco yelled, "he killed your family. Why are you with him?"
A slighter of emotion made its way across Kingsly's eyes but quickly turned cold and cruel again, "because I'm not going to be as stupid as you, or as stupid as those Gryffindors who thought they could kill Voldemort the first time. . . Or like my pathetic family. Look where they all are now. Dead."
Ava. Ava was one of those stupid Gryffindors. Draco lowered his head as the memory of Ava came back. That's all she is now, a memory.
"Well," Kingsley said, with a deviant grin on his lips, "all except one."
Draco looked up instantly.
His entire body froze.
Kingsley smirked, clearly thrilled to be sharing this information with him.
"Your little girlfriend was spotted walking into the mountains a few miles away from here," Kingsley smiled like he was enjoying all the emotions running wild through Draco's mind.
"Ava—she's dead," Draco managed to say.
Kingsly slowly shook his head, "Unfortunately not."
That's not possible.
"She was walking with Theo and I hate to be the one to tell you," Kingsley leaned closer like they were sharing gossip again back in school, "but they were pretty close, he was holding onto her ever so tight," Kingsley's lips spread into a wide toothy grin as laughter echoed out of his mouth.
Draco closed his eyes. She's alive. Ava is alive. He felt something similar to relief.
"But we did ruin their moment by shooting at them, so she might actually be dead now," Kingsly made a tsk sound like he was actually disappointed but it was just sarcasm, "we did later find out that the Lord wants them brought back alive so he can torture and kill them himself. That's our fault though. Whoopsie."
Draco's breathing became heavy and wild, all while his anger was heightening. A dangerous, dangerous thing and Kingsley should prey to every God, Saint and the devil that these chains hold.
"What's wrong?" Kingsley laughed like a lunatic, "You seem a little on edge."
"I'm going to kill you," Draco snarled. He hadn't eaten in days and yet felt like he could crack the world in two with his bare fist.
Kingsley shook his head, "No. I don't think so," he squeezed his face together, "I'll tell you what I'm going to do though. I'm going to find your girl, dead or alive and then in going to cut away at her pretty skin," he grinned, "and maybe I'll even have a little taste of her beforehand."
Draco pulled at the chains so hard that the bolts almost snapped from the stone floor. Kingsley was on his feet in an instant and fear danced in his eyes. He straightened himself as Draco continued pulling against the chains like a deranged warrior, yelling like one too.
"I'll leave you to think about that," Kingsley said before cracking his neck and walking out of the room.
Draco had been tortured, cut and beaten, burned and cruciod but this—just the thought of him hurting Ava, touching his girl, it was the worst torture he had ever experienced.
Draco screamed, yelled and pulled at the chains for hours until his body collapsed and there was no more fight left inside of him. Later that night, the guards came in, drugged him and dragged him back to his cell, leaving him to rot away with only the memory of Ava comforting him.
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