Dark Times for Draco Malfoy

Breakfast in the great hall.

A week had passed and things were looking grim for Draco. His fellow Slytherins could tell he was brooding over something. Looking up from his empty plate, he gazed around as the Malfoy name was mentioned. Surely everyone could see he wasn't feeling well, and that he hadn't been sleeping very well lately? Draco didn't want to think about the reason why he was being depraved of his sleep. Subduing the impulse to grip the plate and smash it furiously against his forehead, he glanced grimly over to the Gryffindor table as Hermoine Granger once again was out with her book, this time hitting Harry hard in the head. The blow came swiftly and was over in mere seconds. Elegant and effective, he thought. At least one good thing about Mudblood Granger. Girls and their bloody temper! Draco sighed, feeling a pang of sympathy for Potter and his clumsy ways. He glanced over to where Pansy was sitting, and her dark eyes immediately pinned him to his seat. She looked from him, over to Granger and then back Draco. For a minute he thought he saw black thunderclouds assemble directly above her head. He stared back down to his plate, feeling as if he simply existed with any purpose or meaning. The owls had been flying in mail all morning, and he watched as the Morning Prophet landed in Blaise's lap, and next thing, an owl dropped a letter right on Draco's plate. He instantly recognized his mother's handwriting. Opening it quickly, he felt his fingers shake at the thought of salvation close at hand. Maybe she knew he was in trouble? Maybe she was sending him help..! But his heart slowly sank as he began to read, understanding the distress which dripped from every word. She wrote about his father. The interrogations were over. He had been moved from custody and into Azkaban prison for good. For life. Draco swallowed hard. He shut his eyes tight as it dawned on him what the words really meant. He knew it in the back of his mind, didn't he? All summer he'd made up a lie in his head about Lucius being on vacation so the shame would be easier to bear. And when Lucius had shown up at Hogwarts, Draco had completely forgotten. He had put it all behind him and assumed that Lucius' presence meant he'd been set free. The imprisonment had never been talked of at Malfoy Manor. Until now, when Narcissa broke the taboo by writing of this to her son, and she had drenched the letter in sadeness. He could almost hear her weep through the letter. At the bottom of the letter, she asked him to be strong for the sake of his father. And for her. With Lucius gone, Draco had to understand that he was now the head of the family. He meant it implied that she desired him to come home and care for her. To keep it together.

He was slightly distracted as he heard his surname repeated several times, hushed and whispered over and again. Looking up from the letter, he realised that people was staring at him. even Blaise had trouble not gazing in his direction. But he turned the newspaper so Draco could read the front page for himself:

'Malfoy convicted as Death Eater. Faces incarceration for life in Azkaban.' The letter were big, fat and dramatical. The word Death Eater dominated the page. And underneath the main case was another one on his father as well:

'Lucius Malfoy to be tried for accessory to the murder of Hogwarts student Cedric Diggory, aged 17.'

Draco couldn't read the rest of it. The words blurred together as he realised that his family name was being crushed and crucified all in one by the damned Ministery. Draco felt mortified, and upon looking back at the faces staring accusingly at him, he felt himself go cold. Even the Slytherins were raising an eyebrow at him.

"What are you all looking at?!" Draco snarled at them. Thee situation was getting uncomfortable however, and Draco thought it best to leave. He needed to be alone and to think things through, even if it meant bumping into his assailant again. He felt as if a trap was being shut around him, or as if he intentionally was being cornered by someone. Someone who seriously wanted to make him pay. Somebody holding a grudge against him. Potter? No. A disappointed Death Eater? Possibly. A very insulted Voldemort who's out to indirectly punish Lucius? Draco stopped dead in his tracks. The thought was positively shocking. Voldemort? It would certainly fit the poisonous and taunting words. With Lucius in prison, Voldemort would go after Draco first, then his mother. The whole Malfoy family destroyed. Tortured and slain. No, Draco unconsciously shook his head. Lucius had been Voldemort's first in command. He'd sacrificed so much for that man.

The man who had come to him and raped him every single night for a week now, was indeed not his true father, and the thought alone was comforting beyond words. But it also raised a series of new questions which needed answers: If it was not his father, then it was someone who had assumed Lucius' form and his qualities.

A Transfiguration spell could do that! And such a Transfiguration called for a willpower worthy of Mrs. McGonagall's, the likes of Snape, Dumbledore or Voldemort. It meant it was someone very powerful and someone beyond the sixth year students. Draco needed a plan. If it was a spell, then there was always a counter-spell. Draco spun on his heel and set off back to the Slytherin dorm. He needed his Advanced Transfiguration textbook. And he needed it fast. Just maybe there was a way out of this!

After having collected it, Draco began to leaf through the pages on his way back to class, and he found what he was looking for some chapters ahead of where Professor McGonagall presently was tutoring them. He stopped, holding his breath, while he read:

'Self-Transfiguration: The art of transfiguring oneself into another form, thus obtaining said form's abilities and skills.'

That had to be it! Draco's feet turned away from the classroom and automatically to the library. He sat down at an empty desk, opened the blank page before the title page of his textbook and picked up a vacant quill. While he dipped it in the inkhouse, Draco's mind was working frantically to come up with all possible spells he knew which could help him fight whoever hid behind his father's appearance. He thought first and foremost of the Finite Incantatem - an universal spell to negate most spells or the effects of many spells. He also wrote down Immobulus, Homorphus, Incarcerous but with a question mark. He wrote down Stupefy and underlined it. And then Imperio with capitol letters, as a plan began to take form in his mind.

Transfiguration spells were difficult. Even Harry Potter and Hermoine Granger struggled to get them right, and the lessons this year had proved to be far more challenging for each and every student. To control a skilled wielder of Self-Transfiguration, Draco contemplated. Think of the power! Maybe it could be used to turn in Harry Potter to Voldemort and thus clear Lucius' name! Draco pictured before him the glory bestowed upon him once Harry Potter had been defeated. The pride in his mother's eyes and the approval from Lucius' lips. And Draco could rightfully call himself a true Death Eater! Never again would he, Draco Malfoy, be the prey. The abuse would end tonight! He shut his textbook with a loud noise.

Draco hardly succeeded to sit still for the remainder of the lessons. He was constantly cold sweating, searching for his wand repeatedly, anxious incase he would lose it. He clung to the hope of finding peace through drastic measures.

Evening came, and twillight obliterated into darkness. With darkness came anxiety, and Draco realized he'd spent the entire day waiting for his rapist. A whim made him go outside to the courtyard to draw a breath of fresh air and to look at the first appearing stars on the black sky. The courtyard was by no mens empty, and he passed Neville Longbottom while Darco tried to relax and peform something akin to a stroll. Passing Neville, he began to think about the story about how Neville's parents had been tortured into insanity by Draco's aunt Bellatrix. He imagined them suffering, hearing their screams echo through his brains, and then - just then, did Draco eye the familiar shape of Lucius Malfoy hidden under the gateway leading out to the bridge.

Shrouded in half-dark, Draco had not trouble reckognizing the long blond hair, the staff and the outline of his father's shoulders. With his heart racing fast and leaping to his throat, Draco set off in a fast stride, eager to seize the moment before his courage would fail. With wand ready, he approached swiftly. Pointing it at Lucius, Draco pronounced: "Finite Incantatem!" He came to an abrupt stop to witness the desired effect, mentally prepared for whatever apparition Lucius would change into. For barely a second, the shape of his father shifted. The long blonde hair was replaced with long, dark brown curls and Draco could see the clear outline of large black feathered wings growing from behind the figure's back. But the apparittion wavered, and the shape of Lucius grew solid again.

Draco raised his wand again, and said: "Homorphus!", as he desired to see the true form behind the Transfiguration. Again the black wings appeared as the image of Lucius faded. Draco thought he saw a man's face framed by brown curls again, and he thought he reckognized the features from somewhere. Then it all shifted again, and he stood face to face with Lucius once more. Draco's heart was beating fast. The spells - all powerful spells which would have worked even on Voldemort himself, was just a whistle on the wind against this one. Draco felt like running, but the thought of Voldemort made him think about his plans, and Draco gripped his wands with both hands to keep it from shaking. "Imperio!" Draco commanded sternly with all the willpower he could muster. Lucius widened his eyes at him, and a smirk curled itself at one corner of his mouth. "I - I command you to reveal your true form!" Draco said. The determination in his voice was quickly fading. He watched in disbelief as lucius took a step towards him. "I command you! Reveal thy self!" Draco almost begged. "Crutiatus!" Draco almost shouted. He felt the surge of power emanating from his wand, telling him that his spell indeed worked, but Lucius simply flicked his right hand in the air and the energy was gone.

Draco had long since passed the point of desperation, and cleared his voice before saying: "Avada Kedavra!" Draco had practiced on birds and large animals. He knew he had the strength to do it! Breathlessly, he watched as Lucius simply raised his hand in a stopping motion, and the jet of purple light and the whizzing sound which accompanied the killing curse simply vanished into thin air. So baffled was he, that Draco had no time to respond as Lucius stepped up and snatched the wand from Draco's hand. Baffled by this, Draco did not see the hand that lunged out at his throat. Next he knew, gloved fingers closed forcibly around his neck, most effectively cutting off his air supply. He was dragged into the dark shadows of the gateway, desperately fighting for air. Pressed up against the cold brick wall, he tried to pry the fingers away from his windpipe, while Lucius' shape leaned in towards him until Lucius' lips were mere inches away from Draco's.

"I would strongly urge you to think about your future before you go ahead and repeat your little revolt another time. Where I come from there are fates worse than simply going insane after being hit by a Crutiatus curse. I am however, impressed by your incapacity to loathe your aunt Bellatrix for what she did to the Longbottoms! I am baffled by the fact that you are able to walk among these youths without taking in the losses they've suffered because of the horrific actions of the deranged and sadistic members of your own family. But enough chat. Be a good boy and undo your pants."

Draco managed to gurgle something akin to 'no!'. In his mind, he was screaming for help. Surely someone in the courtyard must have heard him shouting the spells? Someone had to see what was going on? Didn't anybody care?

To his great terror he watched Lucius point Draco's wand against his head. «Imperio, Draco Malfoy. Do as I bid. You will undo your pants then preceed to undo mine, and then you will wrap your fingers around my manhood and nurse it until I say otherwise.» Draco shuddered as the magic in the air vibrated. Black spots was dancing in his field of vision, and he shut his eyes hard. A sudden sense of release washed over him, and he felt himself go numb inwardly. His body collapsed into a willing mood and a sense of calm. It no longer mattered that he was to stroke his father's dick. It was simply okay. But deep down inside in the back of his mind, Draco knew it was the spell working him. It did not successfully cut off every last strand of logic. His willing fingers mechanically undid the trousers of his school uniform. The trousers fell in a pool around his feet, and he felt the evening's first chill on his legs. He shuddered. Unseen forces dragged his arms to Lucius' waist, wandering and touching until they succeeded in undoing the fly. Draco wanted to weep. He felt disgusted to touch the soft, silky smooth flesh which awaited there. A musky scent of lust slithered its way into Draco's nostrils. Whatever creature hid behind Lucius' form, it was horny and ready for a snack. It had waited for him. Draco began to stroke Lucius' manhood. He felt the crushing grip around his neck lessen and he was able to breathe more freely. The erection between his fingers stiffened into a throbbing, thick spear with pulsating veins. It felt so good to be so calm. Not a worry in the world. He rested his head against the cold brickwall, and he watched his father's figure lean in to whisper gently: "You know what's coming next now, don't you my boy?"
Draco nodded. He felt absolutely nothing, though somewhere someplace inside, a tiny voice was pleading for it all to stop. He let go off his father's cock, and stood rigid as the gloved hand was entirely removed from his throat. He let out a silent sigh, only to gasp at the unexpected touch of his father's naked fingers caressing his hips. The touch was actually soothing, though somewhere deep inside, Draco was writhing in disgust. Gripping Draco's left forearm, Lucius proceeded to roll up the blonde boy's sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark of Voldemort.

"I know you should have been hard at work trying to restore the Vanishing Cabinet right now, earning yourself a point in Voldemort's book, but since you'll be having your hands full serving me from now on, I don't see the point in wearing 'that' anymore" Lucius said arrogantly, nodding at the Dark Mark. Touching it with his fingers, Lucius looked from the tattoo and into Draco's grey eyes. Draco was staring in disbelief at the tattoo which began to sting before it evaporated completely. He looked up at Lucius with wonder, not quite understanding what was going on.

"I need you to be mine" Lucius told him with dark voice, his grey eyes speaking volumes. "All mine" he whispered, his lips so close to Draco's face that Draco could smell his breath.

"Who ARE you?!" Draco whimpered. It was dawning on him that he was now in the hands of a bigger player in town. A player greater than Voldemort. Who else had the power to remove the Dark Mark imprinted by the Dark Lord himself?

"Turn around" Lucius told him with a slight smirk on his lips. Draco unwillingly obeyed. Frustration and anxiety was rebuilding in his chest, and thinking about this new piece of information made him feel extraordinay small, a pawn in a chess game - no, something lesser than that.
"Please..!" he gasped as pain shot through his rectum. Lucius had parted his cheeks and was unceremoniously forcing himself inside.

"One has to admire your intentions in this mess! Siding with a character like Voldemort, thinking that you could redeem your father and honour your mother by doing the bidding of such an amateur! Well, your blooming career in the service of that idiot ends here!" Draco heard Lucius groan, pumping hard into Draco's bleeding entrance. Draco gritted his teeth but he couldn't keep from moaning out his pain. He felt as if he was being punished, perhaps for having chosen Voldemort's side. He was past the point of begging. All he could do was shut his eyes tight, press his right cheek against the cold bricks and pray it would soon be over.

Half an hour later, Draco stole back inside the dark and desolate corridors of Hogwarts school for Wizards and witches. He was stiff-legged, walking awkwardly, dirty on his trousers and in his face. He held his wand in his hand. It burned in his fingers as a shameful reminder of his attempt at retaliation. An attempt which failed. The creature wearing Lucius' figure had done nothing to dodge the Avada Kedabra curse. On the contrary, it had been effectively blocked. And the only one other whom Draco knew that could do such a thing, was Harry Potter, and he'd done it twice. The killing curse was supposed to be unblockable. But the person who adopted Lucius' figure, did not speak or act anywhere remotely like Harry Potter. And Harry Potter wasn't possibly so clever that he'd be able to alter his manner in such a way, could he? Besides, how could Harry have know about the Dark Mark? Draco had never spoken of it or shown it to anybody outside the circle of Death Eaters. And what of the Vanishing Cabinet?! He knew Harry had been on to him about that particular business, and it was possible that Harry knew about the Room of Requirement, but not the Cabinet. No way! Besides, Harry was a Gryffindor through and through. He didn't have the balls to be sadistic like that, Draco mused. He made it back to the Slytherin dorms and strode straight for the boy's bathroom. He didn't bother to remove his clothes before he hit the showers. Once the clothes indeed were off, he took care to examine his left forearm. There was nothing there. Not a trace! A noise brought his attention to the wardrobes and the lockers.

Picking up his wand, he leftthe showers and quickly wrapped himself with a towel. He raised his wand shakily, the memories of his massive defeat still fresh in mind. About to round the corner, he held his breath before he decided to take a quick peek. He was just in time to watch none other than Harry Potter slip out through the door. Harry bloody Potter! Draco ought to have cursed that bloody Gryffindor with something incurable! Draco snarled to himself. While dressing, he actually had to admit that he was glad to have someone solid to be angry at, instead of someone elusive who only heaped more misery upon him by using a loved and dear figure to hide behind. And what of Voldemort? What of Draco's promise to kill Dumbledore? And was Draco still a death Eater even though the Dark Mark had been taken from him? Would the Dark Lord know? Draco rubbed his hands across his face in a frustrated manner. Bloody hell, everything was in a deep tangle! Feeling himself drown, completely thrown into turmoil by a different, stronger evil than Voldemort, Draco stole into the boy's part of the Slytherin dorm. He felt like a thief in the night. And because he couldn't tell anybody about the demeaning rapes, he felt reduced to a shadow - a nothingness in the night. Nobody had heard him curse and scream earlier on. No one saw him and his pain. He was all alone, and the confidence he had by being a Malfoy, was nowhere to be found in the dark hours towards dawn of another day at Hogwarts.