A Harry Potter Fanfiction
Disclaimer:Harry Potter and its characters were created by JK Rowling and are copyrighted to their rightful owners. There is no copyright infringement intended.
Summary: After the war, Harry and Hermione torture Draco Malfoy. It is not only punishment for his crimes in the war, but also revenge for his behavior in the seven years at Hogwarts. Darkfic.
Rated R for violence and adult themes.
For my sister Janet, who challenged me to write this. Blame her.
Draco Malfoy whimpered in fear and terror, huddling in the corner of the dark and damp cell he had been thrown into. His custom made robe, with its velvet trims, hung like a rag on his back, torn open from the whip. He could feel the sticky substance of blood trailing down his back. Could sense the coppery tang from where he had bit his cheeks to keep from screaming out in pain. It wouldn't do for a Malfoy to scream. To show weakness in front of a mudblood and her lover.
The thought had barely floated through Draco's mind when the door to his cage flew open to reveal Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. The whip with its cruel razors at its end was gone. Both Gryffindors clutched their wands.
"Crucio," the mudblood says, pointing her wand at him. Agony wracks his already broken body. He refuses to sob in front of them. Instead he spits blood in their general direction. It doesn't even travel far enough to brush them.
She laughs, the filthy, unworthy mudblood. She points her wand again and casts the cruciatus curse. Potter, he just stands here, quietly chuckling. After another hour of inflicting the pain of the cruciatus curse on him, she turns to Potter and pouts. The bitch looks bored.
"Can we call in a dementor again, Harry?" She asks. "His eyes have glossed over again. I hate it when he finds a way to retreat. It takes all the fun away."
Potter steps out of the prison cell for a few seconds. "This'll be fun," she promises, smiling sweetly at him. "Just think of sunshine and rain. Remember what it was like when we poured that acidic potion all over your pretty, pretty chest."
Potter enters again, a dementor trailing in behind him. There are no more happy thoughts left in Draco. If he could he would summon all the happiness in the world, if only so the dementor can suck him dry and leave him dead.
Eventually the mudblood bores of this, too. "He's no fun! Not like his father. Now there was a man who could beg and plead for his life." She turns to Draco. "You remember, don't you, Draco? When we tied Lucius to the wall and ripped his back open? Promised to bring the thestrals in and see if they liked humans better than polecats?"
She laughs. "You're nothing like your father, Draco. He was like a Death Eater should be. Loyal to Voldemort unless faced with punishment from the Ministry." She turns to Potter. "Remember how he tried to convince us that he was under the imperius curse?"
Draco presses as close as he can to the cold wall. It keeps him awake. Keeps him from slipping into shock and then a coma.
"Why don't you beg, Malfoy?" Potter asks. "Maybe if you beg enough I might get tired of your whining and put you out of your misery. Remember how you killed Dean? We were there, I remember it so clearly. You brought him to the center of your circle. Played with him for a little while. Crucio. You made him beg. Made him kill Seamus. Then you killed him.
"Why won't you beg, Malfoy? You're already half way there to redemption. You already killed your own father."
"Crucio," the mudblood says, not even bothering to point her wand at him. "If you beg, we'll let you go."
It continues. Hours pass, minutes. Maybe days. Who can tell? The sun doesn't rise. They never leave. Always, they're there. Their wands ready, the cruciatus curse always on the tip of their tongues.
"Remember Lavendar?" The mudblood asks. "Remember how you ordered Crabble and Goyle to kill her? How they took their time." She stares off into space, as if she's reliving the scene. "I never would have thought that they could be so meticulous."
"If you beg us, we'll end it," Potter says. He always wants to appear as the angel of mercy. "If you say you're sorry, if you really convince us, we'll let the dementor have you."
"Remember Cho Chang?" Potter asks. "I really liked her. Crucio."
"I bet you're thinking it now," she says, delivering a sharp kick to his kidneys. "I bet even now, naked and tired and in pain, you can't stop thinking of me as the filthy mudblood."
"Remember Hannah Abbott? She wanted to be a mediwitch. Such a sweet, sweet girl."
"All you have to do, Malfoy, is beg. Ask us for forgiveness. Beg for mercy. Say it. Say you're sorry. Say you never meant to kill anyone. Lie to us, Draco," she pleads, mocking him.
"Remember when you hexed Neville in our First Year?" Potter asks. "Remember how you tried, every year, to get Haggrid fired?"
"Say it, Draco. You don't even have to mean it."
"Remember all the times you threatened us? Tried to curse us?"
"Beg, Malfoy, that's all you have to do."
"Remember Luna Lovegood? Crucio."
"Remember Zacharias Smith? Crucio."
"Remember Colin Creevy? Crucio."
"Beg, Malfoy. Say the words and we'll kill you."
Draco presses against the wall, trying to pull away as much as possible from the pain. Inside his mouth he almost gags on blood. He works his throat, trying to speak. But words don't come out. His tongue has long since been cut out, and there is no chance for him anymore.