Dark Times for Draco Malfoy

Draco sat at his desk during potions class with Professor Slughorn. He was staring down at the letters written in the text book, but he couldn't actually see them. The first night following the assault had brought him troubled dreams which he did not know how to discern, and combined with what had happened yesterday evening in the woods, Draco wasn't sure presently about what was dream and what was reality.

Shifting images from these late events kept flaring up in his mind, and he felt his insides somersault at the thought of himself together with his own father. For in his dream, he had been a whore working at a brothel. And it had been ancient, with great bysantine columns of immaculate marble, smokey wisps of incense and enthralling aromas hanging in the air. Draco had been walking around in the great hall among the obese customers, the slick whore boys, doing his best to avoid eye contact. He'd been horny, he had to admit that. But was looking for a special someone, one who would come to his rescue and protect him from all of these disgusting looking customers. And he'd been really anxious about it, thinking that person wouldn't show up. And among the clientelle appeared his father Lucius, and Draco had instantly known that this was the one. He would protect him! And Draco had sat on his lap and kissed him greedily, touching and caressing the fine fabric of his father's dress. Draco had been more than willing, wanton and wallowing in his desires, letting go of all restraints once he felt his father's breath ghost the delicate skin on Draco's lips and his Adam's apple. It was exhilarating. And Draco's fingertips had begun to stray, to take on a life of their own, and they had gone in search of something more firm and solid than just his father's lips. He wanted so much more, and his father had been more than willing to accomodate! And nothing, no one else in the establishment was a threat to Draco anymore. He felt safe. It was all so safe. It was a sick dream. It had to be a sick dream.

At lunch time in the great hall, Draco was still haunted. The smell of food made him feel sick inside, and he had great trouble following the insignificant chatter from Goyle and Crabbe. His mind still played on, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself – remembering himself thinking in his dream that all he wanted was to get his father undressed. But somehow, he couldn't get the clothes off his father's skin. And Draco had been beside himself with lust. He was naked, sparkling with golden dust, and he could vividly remember how the dust shone wherever he touched his father. He still remembered begging his father to fuck him, parting his legs in an attempt to seduce Lucius, whimpering and sulking to get his way. Even though it had been half a day since he'd had the dream, he could still remember the aroma filling his nostrils. Everything in the dream had been about getting his father's erection back inside. And that was precisely it! His body was reminding him in a sick way about what had happened. For had enjoyed some of it, hadn't he? Wasn't it so, that only for a second or two there, Draco had actually felt something akin to enjoyment while he'd been bent over the large rock?

Draco mumbled something incoherent to his friends, and left the long table. He observed Hermoine hitting Ron's shoulder repeatedly with a book while she yammered about something, but he thought nothing of it. He walked faster and faster, making his way back to the Slytherin common room. But on his way he felt ill and turned the corner to the boy's bathroom. Stumbling over to the sink, Draco threw up while the dream image of whore Draco bent over a window frame with Lucius pumping away at his back door, looped again and again before his mind's eye.

The afternoon classes dragged themselves towards the finish, and through the classroom windows, Draco watched the dusk settle. He grew uneasier by the minute as the increasing darkness kept bringing more and more images back. His whole body slowly tensed with a growing sense of alarm. He seemed unable to follow the lecture. The words of the professor seemed to blur together, and outside, the distant wood grew into black outlines against the evening sky. The lawn outside the building faded to black at the outskirts of the forest, and Draco tried hard not to look. But he felt so naked. So unprotected against the evils he imagined lurked out there. He tuned in on the professor's lecture for a while, and managed successfully to grasp the ideas the teacher was trying to convey. Only, when Draco accidentally glanced outside again, he instantly froze.

Outside, on the threshold where the darkness of the woods met the green grass, stood Lucius Malfoy. His pale hair a halo framing his head and shoulders. He held his cane as always, and he was dressed as he had been the night before. And he was gazing directly up to where Draco was sitting.
Draco felt his heart skip a beat. Just then, he registered a movement at the corner of his eye as the professor had moved over to his desk and bent forward to peer out of the window. "Well, young Mr. Malfoy, it would seem you have a visitor."

A visitor indeed! Draco felt reluctant to leave the classroom after the lesson ended, but he felt he had no choice. He didn't want to be alone, but he didn't want to go out into the corridor incase Lucius was there, either. He did something he'd never done before. He tagged along with Crabbe and Goyle. The leader of the pack followed the pack and not the other way around.

"What's the matter, Malfoy?" Crabbe said, "you've not been talking all day. And you're acting..., I don't know, weird. Didn't see you at lunch. You missed out on our little skirmish with Longbottom."

"Longbottom? Neville? What do I care. He's an idiot." Draco replied sourly, but not really paying attention. He braced himself, expecting to be facing Lucius around every corner. Crabbe kept ranting on about Longbottom, but Draco's ears were but lost to him. Draco was holding his breath, his heart pounded faster than the pistons of a racing car, and he was clutching his textbooks tightly to his chest as if they would work as some kind of shield.

"...and you should have seen his face, all puffed up like some big red balloon, haha!!" Crabbe's chuckle and Goyle's stubby laughter echoed in his ears as they reached the intersection where the different corridors parted. He wanted to go with his friends up the flight of moving stairs leading back to their Slytherin dorm, but Draco's feet refused to walk another step. He felt his knees going weak and his pulse rise to new levels as he saw none other than Lucius talking and smirking to Professor Slughorn. He pretended to glance at Draco's direction and 'discover' him. To Draco it was as if he was looking at a cardboard mock-up of his father, but Snape seemed to actually believe it was Lucius Malfoy. He was perfect in any way, but Draco's gut told him that this wasn't him. Draco watched in dread as Slughorn took his leave, and Lucius turned his full attention to Draco.

"Hello son. Nice to see you again." Lucius greeted him with words served on velvet. He seemed to glide over to where Draco was standing, and before the blonde boy had time to think, Lucius had discreetly raised an arm behind Draco's back. Clutching the back of his son's neck cautiously but firm, he glanced down at Draco and smiled. "Missed me?"

"Get away from me!" Draco hissed between gritted teeth. The pain in his neck from the night before returned with a vengeance, and
"Now, now. Remember that all eyes are on us just at the moment. I understand that you're eager to lie down and spread your legs again for me, but think what it would do to your reputation should it become evident to the public. Children and the elderly are the worst rumour-spreaders, are they not? They wouldn't possibly understand your point of view, I'm sure." Lucius was still clutching the back of Draco's neck, leaving him little option but to follow. The old man, who ever he was, actually had a point. People would start to look at Draco the wrong way. And there would indeed be talked of it. He'd be loathed, looked down upon, even pitied. And laughed at. Draco saw his status at Hogwarts crumble, he even saw his real father's condemning gaze. Being a Death Eater was one thing, but copulating with demons was entirely another. It was something only the lowlives and the crazy people did. For demons were unpredictable. And untrustworthy. They brought you only misery.

Lucius paused to see Harry Potter float by. He looked them both up and down with disapproval, but he did not seem to observe the distress which Draco was in. He wasled past a number of doors and turns until the corridor ended in a staircase winding upwards. The stairs ended in a dooor which led out onto a small but hidden balcony. It was perched right in the centre with four cup-shaped rooftops on each side. Lucius forced Draco over to the railing to their right. From there, they overlooked the lawn and the dark forest beyond. It was a long way down. Very long way down.

Lucius applied pressure to Draco's neck, and the blonde had no option but to bend forward, over the railing. He grabbed Draco's right arm, locking it in position while he pinned his elbow into Draco's back, causing him pain. Using the distraction, Lucius produced a rope by which he tied one end around the wrist on the right hand. He then proceeded to grab hold of Draco's left arm, forcing it behind his back and then tying his hands together there at the small of Draco's back. Draco was protesting and pleading. He felt the lump in his throat grow in accordance with his hysteria as his trousers were opened and promptly dragged down unceremoniously to his knees. He gasped as lucius grabbed a fistful of hair and once again forced his head backwards. The pain in his neck made him see stars.

"Let's talk about this evening's topic, shall we? It's about your mother. Now, should you try to inform her, I'm sure the outcome would be one of two: One, she looks at you in a funny way and disowns you as her son. Two, she comes to your rescue and upon arriving at Hogwarts I make you watch as I rape her repeatedly. And, oh, three, she attempts to cast me back to Hell with a spell, and guess what the outcome of that attempt will be? I drag her scrawny arse here and make you watch as I rape her and send her to Hell in stead. So, are we clear on this? Crystal clear?" Lucius hissed, clearly aroused by the scenarios he'd just conjured up. Draco shut his eyes hard, not at the threats, but at the horrid sensation of his father's rock hard member grinding against Draco's backside. He felt sick again - sick at the thought of having that overly large thing inside an entrance which he was convinced was meant only as an one-way exit. And because his wound there hadn't had the time to heal properly, it hurt possibly worse this time than last night. Draco grit his teeth and wheesed out his pain. It ended in a full out shout. His heart somersaulted as he realised he almost fell over the low railing in the process. Pain flared up and seared through his rectum, but it was the idea of sudden death which kept him from fully paying attention to it. Instead, in a matter of seconds, Draco realised that if he didn't mind his stance, then he would very well lose his balance and fall forward. Oh, by everything holy, he didn't want to die! Not now, not like this!

Having to focus on not losing balance with Lucius thrusting away at his rear was somewhat of a comfort. It meant disregarding the fear. But Draco found it harder to ignore the obvious lust which came with the constant friction taking place in his hole. Good lord, why did he have to feel this way? It was so wrong! He had never thought it possible, let alone that his rectum could be used for anything but what nature required. The shame, the disgrace was nearly unbearable. The defilement of his body and the fact that he was rendered unable to resist it, made him angry, but he quickly realised that anger wouldn't help right now. If he lost his focus, he would fall.

By the time Lucius came, Draco's knees shook badly from the effort of holding back the relentless onslaught on his bottom. He felt his father pull out, and he promplt staggered backwards a step or two, and knelt. He breathed hard, glad it was over.

"How nice it is to see that you and I have finally come to an understanding" Draco heard Lucius say above his head. Draco would have loved to hurl out some angry passage about how he felt, but he was too tired. His thighs and calves quivered from the effort, and Draco felt as if he'd just done a sprint race. He was out of breath and in a cold sweat. He shivered as he felt Lucius kneel down behind him. Grasping his shoulders with gloved hands, Lucius forced Draco backwards, burying his face in blonde locks. His lips ghosted the soft skin on Draco's ear, and he tasted Draco's earlobe before he continued saying: "I hoped you enjoyed the dream."

Draco opened his eyes wide, taking in the actual meaning of the words. One tug at the rope and it undid itself. He saw Lucius walk towards the railing. Placing one boot upon it, he glanced back at Draco and smiled wickedly. Before Draco could sy anything, Lucius leapt and was gone.
Draco Malfoy made his way back down the stairs in a haze. Those last words spoken had made it dawn on him that whatever or whoever it truly was, it now kept an eye on him at all times. Not even in his dreams was he safe. Draco rubbed his face in his hands and stumbled back to the boy's bathroom. He saw no one or heard no one. He had only one thought in mind, and that was to get rid of the filth on and inside his body. He turned on the shower and went inside, fully clothed. Only there, with the hot water rinsing down his back, did he undress. He tore off his white uniform shirt and struggled to wrench off the tie. He gritted his teeth but could not stop the tears. He did not wnt his sobs to be heard, so he muffled them with his arm. Outside, somone said "Oh, Draco's showering with his clothes on, again!" It was a fellow Slytherin.

Pansy Parkinson had been on him all evening after his return from the hidden terrace. She was interrogating him one minute then hen-mothering him the next. Draco told her he'd been meeting with his father, but she didn't believe him. She said he smelled funny, and that it reminded her of perfume. She and Draco had been sort of dating since after Christmas last year. It was however, evident that Draco's heart wasn't fully in it. They shared sentiments about Muggles and blood purity. They shared many interests and enjoyed playing pranks on other people, but in the end she ended up feeling he was thinking of her more as a comrade and not his girlfriend.

“I'm telling you I was with my father!” Draco practically snarled at her across the hall. He couldn't hide the soreness and the hurt in his voice which echoed what he felt inside. She frowned at him, not used to the sudden outburst of emotions.

“If it was with another girl, Draco Malfoy...!” Pansy didn't finish the threat. She glanced sourly at him and turned on her heel, apparently slighted because he refused to confide in her. Draco watched her march back to the stairs leading down to the dorm of the female Slytherins. Great, he thought, just great. Draco turned and headed down the opposite stairs leading to the boys' common room. He felt ripped apart inside, like a piece of paper torn in two. His blonde hair was unruly, hanging down in his eyes, and he kept dragging at the sleeves of his sweater. He'd just showered, and Pansy had been waiting for him outside the boys' bathroom, hands crossed angrily infront of her chest and her jaws set in a determined expression. Two days had gone by and he'd hardly paid her any attention. Draco was once again numb. His mind was tired from the hundreds of nasty images which had burned onto his retinas, and his body was tense. He was on the alert, for this encounter had proven to him that more was probably to come and he had no way of knowing when or why.

Being a Slytherin, Draco naturally went for the solution of thinking things through and then resort to the action which would benefit him the most. But as the second day had passed, he was still in shock and unable to see the obvious solution which would have been to report the incidents to Snape. It was the Malfoy pride which prevented him from doing so. And the shame of it due to his great Slytherin ego, was equally proportionate. The whole situation was in addition making him paranoid. Suppose that Snape somehow found out? What if he decided to take advantage of that? From his numerous visits to the Malfoy Manor in the past when Draco had been a child, Draco knew what Snape was capable of. Draco could be put in a compromising situation. And the thought was so unbearable that Draco hardly wanted to think about it. If he found out, would Snape use the opportunity to rape Draco as well? For Snape would definitely talk to Lucius and Lucius would make up a lie about how Draco loved it. And Snape would surely believe him instead of Draco! The thoughts churned and shifted to and from in his head, until Draco was so paranoid he felt as if everybody was staring at him. He felt marked. Stained. Branded. Dragged down in the dirt. Filthy.

No. He decided. No one could know. He had to endure this in silence and come up with a solution of his own.

Night time came, and Draco went to bed. He was restless and kept twisting around in his bed. Sleep eluded him, and he could not get rid of the anguish and shame which kept riding his mind. Why was his father doing this to him? Why was he unloved and disgraced in such a manner? Everything had been fine between him and Lucius when Draco had left the Manor for the semester, hadn't it? The image of his father's face kept repeating, and Draco felt as if the truth kept eluding him. It was something about his face, something important Draco had observed but which now failed to reveal itself to him. He managed to drift off to sleep, and he had strange and confusing dream about stairs winding upwards and something dreadful awaiting him at the terrace. He suddenly awoke, staring directly at his watch. It was three a.m. He turned his head to stare at the end of his bed. The blood in his veins froze instantly as he saw a dark figure, black wings moving slightly through the nocturnal air, and then the air shifted and his father appeared out from the shadows. Draco moved to avoid him. He sat up in bed and reached for his wand, but an unseen force clutched his wrist and threw him back onto the bed. He felt his his legs go numb, then his torso and finally his arms. In the end he couldn't move his lips. All he could do was blink with his eyes, wide open with fear. Draco's chest was bursting with fear as he saw his father remove the bedspread from Draco's body. He had no way of calling for help as he lay helpless to see his father drag his pants off from his legs to reveal his limp member. There was no way he could scream for help as his watched Lucius spread his limp legs. There was something heavy in the room, like some unseen force which weighed down the very air. None of his fellow room mates were snoring in their beds anymore. Magic was at work. Lucius obviously wanted peace and quiet while he raped his son.

Draco looked Lucius in the eye as the senior Malfoy positioned himself between Draco's legs. Draco was begging with his eyes, but Lucius was staring coldly at him in return. No mercy. No understanding. Draco waited for the pain and shut his eyes hard as the expected pain once gain flared up as his entrance was breached. Inside, he screamed out the pain he could no longer utter. Lucius' long blonde locks fell down on Draco's face, and his hair smelled strongly of ginger and muscat, and Draco instantly knew that it was not a perfume his father normally wore. Like any other man concerned about his appearance, Lucius Malfoy took great care in smelling pleasantly. But ginger and muscat? No way. Draco couldn't even clench his teeth at the pain which flared up every time Lucius thrust into him. Tears however, flowed freely, and despair above all emotions filled Draco while Lucius pounded away at his entrance. To be betrayed in such a way was more than Draco could manage, and it was another shock to know that he wouldn't be safe even in his own bed. The rubbing against his own cock was doing something with him, something Draco didn't want to be feeling in this horrible situation. Despite himself, his so far limp member was awakening, and the tingle of lust Draco felt made it all the more wrong. He looked up at his father's face with the desire to ask the question why, but his lips would not budge. He felt his father's breath ghost across his forehead for a moment, and Draco felt himself rebel inwardly against the sickening intimacy which was being forced on him. He did not want this! It was sick, it was wrong, it was depraving and degracing. Why?!

"I'll tell you why, Draco Malfoy", his father suddenly whispered in his ear. His voice was husky and loaded with lust. If Draco could have, he would have tensed with fear at the sudden answer. "Because you're a slimy little worm which never will amount to anything. You're a lowlife bully which finds pleasure in tormenting little schoolgirls. Your whole life you've been pampered and brought up to become a spoiled little prince with no real friends in a world in which money can buy anything. Oh, but mark my words, sweet dragon, by the time I'm through with you, you'll wish you never were born, and you'll be on your knees, begging for a true friend."

Draco hated the way those words rang in his ears. How could the old sod possibly know that Draco had wanted a reason? Lucius pumped away at his entrance now, harder and faster. The words stung inside of Draco. They stung and they burned and they made him feel sad. Really sad. He wanted to grip the sheets beneath him with his hands, he wanted to fight back, to wriggle free and to scream at the top of his lungs. It was a nightmare so unreal that he prayed wildly that he'd soon wake up. But too real was the sensation in his abdomen. Too real was the friction and the sickening sensation it gave Draco. It was unbearable to feel the unwelcome, stiff manhood inside him, thrusting in and out, and Draco despaired because he was completely immobilized. There was nothing he could do to defend himself. He closed his eyes when he saw his father reaching his peak. He didn't want that image on his retina, but he did hear the satisfied moan which escaped the lips of his rapist. It was as if the moan penetrated Draco's skin, entered into his bloodstream and then imprinted itself in his mind. Only when he felt the weight of his father's body lift away, did he dare to look again, as a new fear grabbed hold of his chest. What if he intended to leave Draco in this stasis? What if he were to be discovered in this way? Draco watched his father place his fists at the end of the bed before he leaned in over Draco's legs and said: "Now there's a good boy. Go back to sleep now. Sweet dreams." Lucius smiled at him. Draco felt how his limbs slowly awakened as Lucius left for the main door leading out of the Slytherin dorm. The familiar nocturnal noises returned. There was Blaise's soft snoring and Crabbe's sleeping chatter. The very air itself seemed to lighten. Draco looked at his watch. The rape had lasted about twenty minutes, though to Draco it felt like it had been two long hours. He sat up in bed, dragged his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his legs. For the longest of times Draco sat there in silence while he bit back the sobs which threatened to overtake him.