Even If You Are An Inch From Death
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
8,303
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
8,303
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Draco
Draco
Harry wearily walked over to the last curtain; feeling conflicted as to how he felt about it. Finally it was the last of his friends; finally it would be the last of his torment. But he didn’t know if he could take watching one more of his friends suffer though such a horrendous fate.
Vaguely, Harry wondered who it would be. His two best friends had been first, followed by four professors. Would it be another professor? Maybe a Weasley he’d been close to? Seamus? Dean? Neville? Harry didn’t want to think about the potential candidates for the finally curtain, but his traitorous mind would not stop.
As if on its own accord, the curtain once again drew and revealed the last cell.
Harry’s eyes widened like sickles, and his mouth dropped open.
“I believe I saved the best for last,” Voldemort said smugly, taking in Harry’s shocked expression.
Inside the cell was an oddly fashioned table, as if it had been made solely for the purpose of having someone laid out in a particular position on top of it. Thin down the middle for the length of a body to lay with four more, smaller carefully positioned benches just the right size for arms and legs. But it was what was on top of the odd table that had Harry gaping. Draco Malfoy, Harry’s boyfriend.
“You thought you kept it a secret, didn’t you, Harry?” Voldemort mocked. “But you underestimated just how many faithful people I had working for me in Hogwarts.”
Harry barely heard the evil man gloat about his greatness as he stared at Draco lying there. There were no bonds Harry could see, so he figured that Draco must somehow been glued to the table to prevent movement. The blonde boy was motionless and emotionless, looking up at the stone ceiling above.
Even when the lone Death Eater walked in, Draco didn’t avert his attention. For a moment Harry wondered if his boyfriend had been drugged, but decided against that thought, knowing how calm and collected Draco could be during tense situations.
Harry watched as the Death Eater drew his wand and spelled the IV to insert itself into Draco’s left inner elbow. The blonde didn’t even show any signs of pain at the needle burying into his skin.
Another spell was cast by the Death Eater and Draco’s odd table was manoeuvred slightly upright to look at the one-way mirror.
Harry watched his boyfriend’s face as his own reflection came into view, but was shocked again when he heard Draco’s voice.
“Harry?”
Harry stumbled. How could Draco see him?
“Oh, I forgot to tell you…” Voldemort grinned as he spoke, “I decided to forgo the mirror on the last cell. I thought the two lovers would like to look upon each other one last time.”
Tears sprang to Harry’s eyes as he realised Draco would have to watch him during his execution. He raised his chained hands to the glass and banged his fists against it. “Draco…”
He watched the realisation dawn on Draco at the discovery that Harry was just as much a prisoner, and that there’d be no escape. But it was quickly squashed and a slight, reassuring smile formed on the blonde boy’s lips.
Harry turned to Voldemort.
“Please, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything you want. Please don’t hurt Draco,” he begged, all but falling to his knees in front of his enemy.
Voldemort’s grin only widened. “My, my. You must love the boy if you’re begging like this. You didn’t even beg this well to save your dear best friends.”
It was then that Harry did fall into a kneeling position at Voldemort’s feet and looked up with beseeching eyes.
“I beg you, Voldemort, please don’t do this to Draco.”
Voldemort let out a high bark of laughter and gripped Harry’s hair again, leaning down to talk quietly to the boy.
“Do you think this is making your little boyfriend jealous?”
Harry blanched and tried to move away from the position he had put himself in, but the grip was unrelenting and found that he couldn’t.
There was no point in begging anymore. Voldemort was merciless.
Voldemort’s grip twisted Harry’s head around to look once again on his boyfriend.
The Death Eater had produced his only weapon of torture – a scalpel-like knife. Draco’s clothes had previously been removed so the Death Eater bent down near Draco’s right ankle and made an incision. Though, instead of cutting in further, the hooded man turned the blade and began running it along the inside of Draco’s skin, up his shin.
Draco made a few noises of protest, but didn’t reduce himself to begging, like Harry had pathetically done.
The Death Eater removed the blade and lifted the skin up off Draco’s leg before cutting it completely off. He tossed it to the floor then started again at the ankle, slicing off another strip of Draco’s flawless skin.
“They say that being flayed alive was one of the worst forms of execution ever created.”
More tears fell from Harry’s eyes as he learnt that this was Draco’s fate.
“So I decided on this form of execution for two reasons,” Voldemort continued. “Firstly, I was extremely offended when Lucius’ son refused my mark because he was ‘in love’ with my most hated rival. And secondly, the Malfoy’s have always been known for their beauty, but it was only ever skin deep, so I feel it appropriate that I remove the youngest Malfoy’s skin.”
Harry’s head snapped up, ignoring the relentless grip that was still in his hair.
“You’re wrong. Draco is beautiful inside and out, he’s not like the other Malfoy’s.”
By now, the Death Eater had removed all of the skin on Draco’s right leg, and was halfway though his left. Draco’s resolve had crumbled and had begun to cry out in pain, mingling his words with undying love for Harry.
Harry couldn’t hold back the sob.
Hardly twenty minutes later, Draco had nearly been skinned alive completely, barely recognisable to the beautiful boy that had been on the table not even half an hour ago. Strips of pale flesh littered the floor. Neither boy looked away from the other, knowing that this was the last time they’d see each other. And even though, Harry couldn’t help the horrible thought that his boyfriend looked like he now belonged in a butcher shop, he still mouthed, ‘you’re beautiful, I love you’, over and over again though the glass.
Harry wearily walked over to the last curtain; feeling conflicted as to how he felt about it. Finally it was the last of his friends; finally it would be the last of his torment. But he didn’t know if he could take watching one more of his friends suffer though such a horrendous fate.
Vaguely, Harry wondered who it would be. His two best friends had been first, followed by four professors. Would it be another professor? Maybe a Weasley he’d been close to? Seamus? Dean? Neville? Harry didn’t want to think about the potential candidates for the finally curtain, but his traitorous mind would not stop.
As if on its own accord, the curtain once again drew and revealed the last cell.
Harry’s eyes widened like sickles, and his mouth dropped open.
“I believe I saved the best for last,” Voldemort said smugly, taking in Harry’s shocked expression.
Inside the cell was an oddly fashioned table, as if it had been made solely for the purpose of having someone laid out in a particular position on top of it. Thin down the middle for the length of a body to lay with four more, smaller carefully positioned benches just the right size for arms and legs. But it was what was on top of the odd table that had Harry gaping. Draco Malfoy, Harry’s boyfriend.
“You thought you kept it a secret, didn’t you, Harry?” Voldemort mocked. “But you underestimated just how many faithful people I had working for me in Hogwarts.”
Harry barely heard the evil man gloat about his greatness as he stared at Draco lying there. There were no bonds Harry could see, so he figured that Draco must somehow been glued to the table to prevent movement. The blonde boy was motionless and emotionless, looking up at the stone ceiling above.
Even when the lone Death Eater walked in, Draco didn’t avert his attention. For a moment Harry wondered if his boyfriend had been drugged, but decided against that thought, knowing how calm and collected Draco could be during tense situations.
Harry watched as the Death Eater drew his wand and spelled the IV to insert itself into Draco’s left inner elbow. The blonde didn’t even show any signs of pain at the needle burying into his skin.
Another spell was cast by the Death Eater and Draco’s odd table was manoeuvred slightly upright to look at the one-way mirror.
Harry watched his boyfriend’s face as his own reflection came into view, but was shocked again when he heard Draco’s voice.
“Harry?”
Harry stumbled. How could Draco see him?
“Oh, I forgot to tell you…” Voldemort grinned as he spoke, “I decided to forgo the mirror on the last cell. I thought the two lovers would like to look upon each other one last time.”
Tears sprang to Harry’s eyes as he realised Draco would have to watch him during his execution. He raised his chained hands to the glass and banged his fists against it. “Draco…”
He watched the realisation dawn on Draco at the discovery that Harry was just as much a prisoner, and that there’d be no escape. But it was quickly squashed and a slight, reassuring smile formed on the blonde boy’s lips.
Harry turned to Voldemort.
“Please, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything you want. Please don’t hurt Draco,” he begged, all but falling to his knees in front of his enemy.
Voldemort’s grin only widened. “My, my. You must love the boy if you’re begging like this. You didn’t even beg this well to save your dear best friends.”
It was then that Harry did fall into a kneeling position at Voldemort’s feet and looked up with beseeching eyes.
“I beg you, Voldemort, please don’t do this to Draco.”
Voldemort let out a high bark of laughter and gripped Harry’s hair again, leaning down to talk quietly to the boy.
“Do you think this is making your little boyfriend jealous?”
Harry blanched and tried to move away from the position he had put himself in, but the grip was unrelenting and found that he couldn’t.
There was no point in begging anymore. Voldemort was merciless.
Voldemort’s grip twisted Harry’s head around to look once again on his boyfriend.
The Death Eater had produced his only weapon of torture – a scalpel-like knife. Draco’s clothes had previously been removed so the Death Eater bent down near Draco’s right ankle and made an incision. Though, instead of cutting in further, the hooded man turned the blade and began running it along the inside of Draco’s skin, up his shin.
Draco made a few noises of protest, but didn’t reduce himself to begging, like Harry had pathetically done.
The Death Eater removed the blade and lifted the skin up off Draco’s leg before cutting it completely off. He tossed it to the floor then started again at the ankle, slicing off another strip of Draco’s flawless skin.
“They say that being flayed alive was one of the worst forms of execution ever created.”
More tears fell from Harry’s eyes as he learnt that this was Draco’s fate.
“So I decided on this form of execution for two reasons,” Voldemort continued. “Firstly, I was extremely offended when Lucius’ son refused my mark because he was ‘in love’ with my most hated rival. And secondly, the Malfoy’s have always been known for their beauty, but it was only ever skin deep, so I feel it appropriate that I remove the youngest Malfoy’s skin.”
Harry’s head snapped up, ignoring the relentless grip that was still in his hair.
“You’re wrong. Draco is beautiful inside and out, he’s not like the other Malfoy’s.”
By now, the Death Eater had removed all of the skin on Draco’s right leg, and was halfway though his left. Draco’s resolve had crumbled and had begun to cry out in pain, mingling his words with undying love for Harry.
Harry couldn’t hold back the sob.
Hardly twenty minutes later, Draco had nearly been skinned alive completely, barely recognisable to the beautiful boy that had been on the table not even half an hour ago. Strips of pale flesh littered the floor. Neither boy looked away from the other, knowing that this was the last time they’d see each other. And even though, Harry couldn’t help the horrible thought that his boyfriend looked like he now belonged in a butcher shop, he still mouthed, ‘you’re beautiful, I love you’, over and over again though the glass.