Dark Times for Draco Malfoy

An unexpected meeting.


He could see that Harry Potter was struggling, and it pleased him immensely. He could not help but to gloat, and it was but impossible to get himself to wipe the wicked grin from his face. That mug-blood Hermoine was standing next to Harry along with the Weasley boy. Always the trio. Good grief how sad it was to behold.
Hermoine was positively fuming. After she'd hit him last year, Draco kept his distance, still unsure of how to exact upon her a vengeance that would fit the crime. She would get hers, he was sure of it! He strode past them, doing nothing to hide his contempt. If he played his cards right this year, Potter was going to feel a lot sorry than he was at the moment.

It was his sixth year at Hogwarts, and Draco felt ready to conquer the entire world. He was a year older, and he was finished with child games. No more locking sad little boys into the girls' bath room. It was time to get serious. If he was ever to become anybody, this year would be it! It was time Draco Malfoy stepped out from the shadows of his mighty father and into the light himself.


Divination Class.

Professor Trelawney adjusted her glasses, cleared her throat and clapped her hands together. She said; "Good morning, class. At the beginning of this semester, we shall start with a simple exercise of scrying. It will help to warm up those psychic abilities which have been asleep all summer long. Please fill your silver plates with water, pass the mug to your fellow student and we shall soon begin!"

Draco stared at his silver plate. The thin film of water which it could contain, was slightly reverberating. He glanced at Professor Trelawney and rolled his eyes. Godd grief, what a sad woman she was. It was extremely fortunate that his father had taught him to respect his teachers. Or to at least hold his tongue and swallow the contempt he felt towards them while class was in session.

"The art of scrying!" Professor Trelawney began, "is a well-tested, reliable method for looking into the future! Crystals, stones, glass, mirrors, water, fire and smoke! All are equal as means for scrying!" Professor Trelawney swivelled across the room, adjusted her glasses once more before she suddenly stopped and said: "Let it begin!" Turning towards her pupils again, she continued: "I want you to all reach inside yourselves, find a place within where all is calm. Put all thoughts and worries aside, and let yourselves dive into the water."

Professor Trelawney went silent. She adopted the eyes of a hawk all of the sudden, and swivelled from student to student, observing them. As per usual, Hermoine was ignored completely. "Barren, barren...!" Professor Trelawney muttered to herself as she passed Hermoine. Making her way over to Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, she came to an abrupt stop. She adjusted her glasses, before she said: "Mr. Malfoy? I sense a great darkness which is about to encompass you. Tell me what you see?!"

"I...I see...!" Draco said, frowning dramatically, "oh no! I think I see ... myself! Dying of boredom in here!" he exclaimed, immediately earning himself a laugh from most of the class, "Dark times, indeed, or what say you, Professor?!"

Professor Trelawney crossed her arms in front of her chest, and replied: "The Art of Scrying is not to be taken lightly! I am appalled by your disrespect for this profession, Mr. Malfoy!"

"Whatever", Draco replied with a snort. He sat back in his chair, listening contentedly to the snickering of his mates. He half-heartedly paid attention to the other students whom Trelawney interviewed. At some point during their session, Draco started to stare down at his silver plate in pure boredom. Suddenly, the water flickered, and the fluid seemed to turn into a shade of white. Draco thought he saw a pair of black, feathered wings. The spell was broken as Goyle suddenly nudged his elbow, and when Draco looked down again, it was just ordinary water. So much for fortune-telling.

"What's wrong with you, man? You looked as if you were going to dive into that plate!" Goyle whispered.
"Nothing" Draco replied. He returned his attention to Professor Trelawney, who'd gone silent. She was staring at him intently for a moment, before she drew her breath and pronounced that class was over. As the students disassembled, she walked over to Draco. She seemed concerned.

"Now will you tell me what you saw, Mr. Malfoy?" She said. She was fidgeting, wringing her hands.

"I didn't see anything particular" he lied.

"Ignoring the signs can be lethal, Mr. Malfoy. I see indeed a dark and trying time for you ahead. Is your father all right? I see a mask-..!"

"-my father is doing just fine, I assure you. I saw a crow, that's all." Her sincerity was actually beginning to spook him. Lucius? Whatever was she bringing up his father's name for? Draco collected his books and left without another word. The nerve! That woman was a freak! he told himself. But the goosebumps on his back wouldn't go away. He breezed past people down the staircase and made a point of putting one lean elbow into the shoulder of an unknowing Neville Longbottom. He grinned as he heard Neville squeal behind him. Glancing at that hothead Ron Weasley, Draco made his way to the door to the next class. Pushing his way forward, he tried hard to put the image of a large pair of black wings away from his retinas. But as his inner cinema kept spinning, the image descended until long wisps of dark curls danced and twined themselves together at the base of the wings. Draco didn't realize that he'd come to a halt just in front of the door. He began to realize that his consciousness had seen more than he was ready to admit. He shoved the confusion aside and entered the classroom to one of his favourite lessons: Potions making with Professor Snape.
It was fairly late in the evening when Draco got a note saying that his father was waiting for him at the courtyard. How odd. Draco frowned, thinking that his father never used to pay him visits at this late an hour. He never the less walked downstairs to find Lucius Malfoy indeed waiting.

"There you are, my boy" Lucius smiled at Draco. The senior Malfoy was as per usual dressed to the nines, perfection sparkling off his fingertips. His long, blonde hair shone like a halo, illuminated by one of the distant lamps at the far end of the wall. "I have some pressing news to discuss with you concerning your future here at Hogwarts. Walk with me?" The last question was merely rhetorical. Like more of a command, and Draco obeyed without hesitation. This could be his big break.

Their walk brought father and son out from Hogwarts territory and into the darks woods. His father was walking fast, and Draco kept up as best as he could. Lucius was obviously distressed, and more than once he looked over his shoulder, his frowning gaze lingering at Draco. A nagging feeling in his guts told Draco something was off. Why the blazes were they trudging down a narrow path in the woods when they could have been inside Lucius' carriage or something where things would be a lot more pleasant? Draco had heard talk of Death Eaters, and he knew Lucius was associated with them, but he knew nothing of the connection in detail. He'd never cared. Everyone said Lucius was pro-Voldemort. So what? His father could be a clown for all he cared as long his allowances kept rolling into the bank.

The Black Lake

It was quite late when father and son made it to the lake. Unknown to them both, it was the same spot where Harry Potter had fought off the dementors only a year earlier. Draco stopped and gazed expectantly at his father. The place gave him the willies, and he was longing to hear what news which could be so important they had to wander all the way down to this freaky place. Lucius turned to his son. Out here in the dark, Lucius seemed taller than usual. And there was something about his eyes. But the significance elude Draco's mind.

"My son" Lucius began, "come down here, by the water. There is something I need you to see." Draco obeyed, and ventured down the sodden grassy slope until he reached the bank. The water was dark, illuminated only by the evening sky. "Look into the water and tell me what you see."

"What, another scrying session? Come on now, Dad, why can't you just-...?!" Draco told him. But as he gazed down at their reflections, the images looking back up at them made him stop dead in his tracks. The first thing he saw, was black wings, then the long dark locks of hair dancing in invisible wind. Next to it was the reflection of himself, his blonde hair and baffled expression.

"What?" Draco said, turning his head to gaze at his father. Instead, a fist connected with his jaw, and it sent Draco reeling off, falling into the water. Getting his up, spattering and gasping for air, Draco felt a fist close at the back of his head. The pain shot through his skull and it was almost enough to immobilize him.

«Don't fight me, Draco, just let it happen!» he heard Lucius say. The severe grip on his hair forced Draco to stagger backwards as he was nearly losing his balance. He could still see the outline of large, black feathered wings reflected in the water.

«Wait! What do you want from me?!» Draco shouted angrily.

«I did say that I had news for you, right?» He heard the demon Lucius speak. For it had to be someone else other than his father right? Was he dreaming? Could Draco only have imagined what he saw in the water? Had it only been the shadows playing with his imagination? He had no choice but to follow over to a large rock.

«I have come to save you from making a grave mistake with your life» Lucius said grimly. He forced Draco down over the rock. Draco felt his trousers give way along with his boxers. The sensation was mortifying, and it dawned on him that something extremely degrading was about to happen. He got scared.

«Please, no! Father, no!» he wailed.

«You will be a good boy and hold your tongue, Draco Malfoy! Consider this the very first lesson which is part of a much more important education that amateur stuff they're teaching you at Hogwarts» Lucius paused, «however it is of course important to note that even amateurs have to begin somewhere» Lucius added haughtily.

Draco could only guess what was going on behind him. The grip on his hair was bruising, and it felt as if it would soon develop into a headache as he couldn't avoid but to strain the muscles in his neck. He tried to reach for his father, but he had to support his weight instead to keep the pain from flaring up too much in the back of his head. He tensed as he felt Lucius' hand on his buttocks.

«Please!» Draco begged desperately, «please don't do this! Why are you doing this?!» He was answered by a mean chuckle which didn't resemble the way the real Lucius laughed, at all.

«You want to know why?» Lucius suddenly spoke gravely again. He pulled Draco close – so close that Draco could feel the cloth on Lucius' chest caress his cold back. Lucius leaned in close to Draco's ear, and said hoarsely: «Because this is how it's got to be, Draco. You're arrogant, mean, destructive and selfish. You're a born bully. You prey on the weak and those who are less than pure-blood. You have no respect for your surroundings and you think money can solve every problem. You're a big baby, a wannabe Death Eater and would have done extremely well as a boy whore! But enough about that. Now, I am going to rape you" Lucius said coldly.

Draco was terrified, and the words pierced him with the severity of a hooked spear. He felt himself go numb. His strength and his reason seemed to ebb from him into the black water until there was nothing left but pure terror. He only whimpered, because he was so frightened he couldn't get his lips to form a single coherent word. He felt his buttocks being parted by gloved fingers, and then a strange sensation of something of a soft flesh against his puckered entrance. Draco sobbed, seeing his own frightened reflection in the water was unbearable, so he closed his eyes hard. His neck was sore with pain and his head throbbed from the strain, and his father's hand kept his head locked firmly into a painful position. There was no escaping the uncomfortable sensation of pressure against his rectal opening. Pain flared up almost immediately as Lucius pressed on, forcing his erect member inside, inch by inch. Draco screamed out his objections, but there was no escaping the crushing grip he was in. The sensation was shocking, the pain was new and beyond anything Draco had felt before. He sobbed out his pain, wringing, twisting and complaining, but there was no leverage to be had.

Lucius was biding his time once he was inside and had buried himself to the hilt. He thrust his head backwards in one swift move, and his long golden hair cascaded down the dark fabric on his back while he sighed contentedly. Gazing up at the starless, cloudy sky, he said: "There is nothing finer to do on a night like this, but to breach a virgin hole!" he said venomously. Tightening his grip on Draco's hair at the back of his head, he pulled, forcing Draco to arch his back more. It made Draco angle his backside differently, in turn allowing for Lucius to thrust deeper into the virgin cavity. "Now I want to listen to you make sweet music! Screams in the night! Ah, such splendid extacy!" Lucius purred. He began to pump in and out, and Draco screamed anew as the friction caused him more pain. It took him moments to realize that there was something far worse going on than just the actual physical pain, and that was the shock of having his trust in his father betrayed to such a degree. It was a mockery of a relatively stable and safe family relationship which had nurtured Draco into becoming who he was today. In his mind, it all splintered and disarrayed, and it confused him even more to actually feel a spark of enjoyment in it all. It was as if his body was programmed to enjoy it, and to his horror he realized he couldn't switch it off.

When Lucius' thrusts ebbed off and he'd finally let go of Draoo, Draco partly fell, partly slid off the rock. He struggled to get to his feet, determined to get as far away from his father as he possibly could. Ther was no telling what would happen next and Draco sure as hell wasn't sticking around to find out. He struggled to get his feet going, fidgeting to get his trousers over his knees and then over his hips. He sobbed violently, tripping several times and falling. The fear driving him was pure in its form, and Draco paid no heed to the sticks and the bushes which came in his way. Neither did he care about the way his rectum hurt. It stung badly, but he was only glad to be moving, to take action against the lethargy and the confusion. He pressed on as fast as he could through the dark woods, glad to see the trees behind him swallow him up and shield him from the sight down at the bank of the Black Lake.

He felt as if he'd wandered around aimlessly for hours. He'd been lost, but he'd managed to find the path back from the dark woods, past Hagrid's cottage and then up to Hogwarts. The only thought he'd had in his shocked mind the entire time, was to keep on going. Imagining that once he'd cleaned himself and gone to bed, everything would once again be all right. He felt as if he'd just been through a very vivid nightmare, and it wasn't until he made it to the boy's bathroom that he actually saw the state of his clothes. His usually so impeccable white shirt was greased, smeared and stained with dirt, leaves, water and blood. His trousers looked even worse, and the fine leather of his shoes was destroyed by moist and dirt. Draco shut his eyes hard. His clothes were irrevocable evidence that something had indeed happened in the woods. He peeled them off, not daring to look at himself in the mirror while he did it. He felt dirty beyond belief, and oh so tired. Back in familiar scenery, his body began to relax, and he realised the intensity by which he'd managed to find his way back to school. Draco entered the shower, and let the warm water soak his blonde hair. Turning about to shower his back, the beam of water against the back of his head burned with the intensity of a thousand needle pricks. An instant and absolute reminder of what his father had put him through. It made him turn his attention to the aching spot between his rounded cheeks. He held his breath and reached behind to feel it with one timid digit. Draco gasped. Good grief how it hurt! So it was no dream after all. The evidence was overwhelming! The truth hit him hard in the gut, and he crumbled internally. Draco was thankful for the water pouring over his head. That way, nobody could see him cry.