Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter characters or settings, they belong to JK Rowling. Nor do I own the Lyrics I'm using as titles and place separations They belong to Papa Roach. I make no money off of this and do it simply for personal enjoyment.
WARNINGS! – Self mutilation, suicide attempt, some light swearing and lightly graphic descriptions.
Summery – Sometime the things you hate most about a person can become sins of your own. The golden trio has had enough! Besides it was just a small prank, no harm was intended. Unfortunately their badly timed revenge has drastic repercussions. And Hermione learns, sometime bullies can bleed too…
A/N- Ok, here it is… My first HP story! Dun,dun,DUN! I would like to thank my beta the wonderful Dramionelurver for giving this a good polishing up. This story was inspired by two songs, Breaking the Habit - Linkin Park and Last Resort - Papa Roach This fic is written and it will have a sequel.
Last Resort - By ZLB
Downward Spiral Where Do I Begin
Draco crept out of his room, sticking quietly to the shadows as he made his way a few doors down. Not that he really had to worry about being seen by anyone but a house elf at this point; both his parents were busy with their 'guests' and this floor was warded against anyone who was not of the Malfoy family or escorted by someone who was. Still, it was the idea behind it. In the new room, he would find a passage that would take him to the extra study on the next floor down. From there, he would sneak into the linen closet on that floor, then to the passage that will take him to an old room currently used for storage.
Now, THAT room held another passage that would lead him to his destination: the personal library in his father's private study. Yes, Draco knew all the passage ways of the manor. Even, he thought, some his father did not know of, including this one. After all, it lacked the protective wards placed on so many of them. Ever since he could walk, Draco had explored the manor. With no siblings to keep him company, outside of the mandatory etiquette lessons and such, he was usually left in the care of house elves. Before long, he discovered that they were hopelessly easy to manipulate, letting him do whatever he wanted. Hell, some elves had been the ones to show him some of these passage ways in the effort to keep him happy. At a young age, he became determined to know them all. This was his world; for the first nine years of his life, he was invisible to his parents when not under their instruction or put on display for social engagements. Anything he knew of his parents was learned from sneaking his way around these passage ways and eavesdropping on their lives.
Then he turned ten. All of the sudden, it was like his father woke up and realized he existed. Suddenly, his father made time to spend with him and teach him what meant to be a Malfoy. Like the starved for attention child he was, he ate it up, trying desperately to be everything his father wanted of him and never questioning the things he was taught. But, he still spied on his parents. It was during one of these spy sessions that he had first heard the name Harry Potter. His father seemed to have a small obsession with him, something that caused jealousy to burn deep in Draco's belly. Immediately he wondered who this boy was that his father obsessed over in his own time. Time that should have been his.
With his first year at Hogwarts, Draco's life drastically changed. He met this time-stealing Harry Potter, and after being snubbed by him, the other boy became his obsession for another reason. Draco set out to prove this boy unworthy of his father's focus. Unfortunately, with every failed attempt, his own father would look at him with dissatisfaction. As Draco's hate for Harry Potter grew, he then started repeating the acidic words of his father about the type of people Potter called friends, not because he believed them, but because they angered Potter and those who dare share the opinion that he was better than Draco.
Things changed at home, too. By his second year, his father actively encouraged his engagement of Harry Potter, but now at a price. Failure was met with punishment and by third year that would extend to Potter's friends as well. So with every snitch Potter would catch before Draco, every subject Hermione would excel over Draco's own top marks, hell, even with as something as petty as one of the Weasley brats getting a prank over on him or one of his fellow Slytherins, his failure equated punishment by his father. Afterwards, his father demanded him to be stronger, smarter. To be otherwise was a constant disgrace his father would not tolerate. And slowly, the man he wanted so desperately to impress became someone he feared. Still, Draco would echo his father's words, but it became an act done out of fear of the retributions of even thinking any other way.
Then, when things didn't seem to be able to get worse, HE returned. He was supposed to be dead, but he came back. With him, his father lost what little humanity he had left. At times, his father would take out his master's displeasure on him. Nothing visible, but then again they were wizards; some scars can't be seen with the eyes. Now Draco's spying was more than childish game of wanting to know too distant parents: it was an act of survival. It let him know when to make himself scarce, to get stories straight before confrontation, to know when the storm was coming.
Draco made his way into the library part of his Father's personal study. The study itself was a rather large room with books and artifacts on display all around. At one end, stood a huge, intimidating solid oak desk with a large, high back, black leather chair that almost resembled a throne. Behind that was a set of stairs that led to a loft that held his father's personal library, where Draco was hidden. He crept from the back stacks where the passage way was concealed and crept to the stairs, where he could see over its rail separation into the Study. As long as he kept to the shadows, no one should notice him. Below, the noise of conversation already sounded. Of the six or seven robed figures with white masks, only some of the voices did he recognize. Why they bothered with the masks, he did not understand, but then again, this was a select few. His father referred to them as the Inner Circle . They were The Dark Lord's most trusted followers. At a regular meeting, they would also have charms disguising their voices. These were the only ones who actually knew who was behind all the masks. So again, them wearing their own made no sense to him. Of course, he couldn't make sense of a lot of his father's ideas lately, not if he truly took the time to think for himself. Still, he was ever stupid enough to question his father; he might as well curse himself at that point.
Then HE began to speak. Even his voice could only be described as oily slimy that made Draco's skin crawl as he spoke with a hiss that made him even more grotesque. Luckily, his hooded robe meant Draco didn't have to look upon him. Even from behind, it was an unnerving sight, he recalled, remembering the first time being faced with a creature of unnaturally white, hairless, lizard-like skin. He had seen the Dark Lord's face once before when he had first returned. At the time, he had stayed in the manor for a week before relocating wherever it was he went when he left the place. But in that week, Draco's common sense told him to avoid the man at all costs. That was, until his father summoned him and he was forced to look upon the man whose face was a cross between human and snake. Draco wanted nothing more than to turn and run, but had been frozen in place. Red eyes bore into his, pressure and dull pain rang through his head, and then he was dismissed. Draco paused at the doorway long enough to hear the man tell his father of Draco's doubts in him.
When his father sent for him, he ran. He knew deep down that he wouldn't get away, but something inside him still drove him to flee. He got as far as the back of the east garden when he heard his father's voice. It was not a shout as much as a loud toned demand for Draco to return. Instead, Draco ran into the woods that made up the back eastern side of the property. His father would pursue him there. It seemed that no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't loose the man. His father did not run after him but somehow still kept up; how was that possible? In his panic, he tripped over something and twisted his ankle. He tried to continue anyway, but the hot flash of pain when he put weight on it made that impossible. Stuck where he was, he hid himself in some rather thick bushes, hoping his father would pass him by. He waited and waited, straining to hear any sound of his father. Just when he was sure there was no one around, a heavy hand came down on his shoulder. He was ripped from the bush, his father's face towering over him. With a perfectly neutral expression and authoritative voice, he got lectured again on what it meant to be a Malfoy, with occasional pauses for more physical reminders of what happens when his father is disappointed. That was just for the original sin. His father let him heal for a few days, and then he received his punishment for running like a coward instead of taking his punishment like a he should have. From that day on, Draco determined two things: one, he would learn to protect his mind from such intrusion again; and two, he never wanted to look that thing in the face again, much less find himself kneeling before it.
Draco was pulled from his thoughts of disgust when the door opened and in walked a man in dark blue robes and a girl wearing a Beauxbaton uniform. Both of them had cloth bags over their heads. When the bags were pulled off, Draco did a double take. The girl could have been Potter's mudblood friend's twin. Other than the uniform, the differences were slight; this girl's eyes were a little closer together and her mouth was a bit bigger proportioned, but at a glance, she looked almost identical to Granger.
The girl was held between two Death Eaters while the man was pushed forward to face The Dark Lord, who's slick voice slithered, "Ssso What do we have here? A Muggle loving blood traitor. Your new bill you are trying to push to be passed by the Ministry is an affront to the livelihood of all pure blooded wizards!"
"B-but... it only helps muggle-born children more easily integrate into our society..."
The Dark Lord stood, shouting, "They don't need help! They need to be exterminated! It sickens me the way they worm their way into our world only to bring it to ruin with their muggle way of thinking, destroying a way of life that survived perfectly well until it became common practice to welcome the filth with open arms! No! You shall undo what you have done before the bill passes or you will regret it. And to show you the seriousness of this request, I shall make an example of your eldest daughter..."
"No! PLEASE! Not my daughter! Punish me..."
Draco did not need to see the smirk to hear it in the Dark Lord's voice when he said, "Oh no, I think this will make more of an impact than any amount of torture on your person will do..." He then turned to the person at his right. "Shadow, as host, you may take lead." Something Draco had discovered through his eavesdropping was that each of the Inner Circle had code names; the rest of the death eaters were referred to only by numbers. Shadow, Draco had learned, was his father.
"CRUCIO!" His father's voice was disguised to sound like rumbling thunder.
The girl's cries rang out as the two death eaters holding her dropped her to the floor to watch her writhe in agony. His father ended the curse and let her body just start to unknot itself before throwing the next curse.
"Igneus Cruor!" The girl's head thrown back as she screamed, her back arching back lifting her up off the ground as her flesh turned bright red. Again, he cut off the curse.
Meanwhile, the girl's father continued to plead for his daughter's life. With a nod from the Dark Lord, it became a free for all as the rest of the Inner Circle started to throw curses at the girl. Some left no traces other than her screams, which were quickly turning horse. One particularly potent scream ripped from the girl as there was a sound of tearing flesh just before blood started to flow from between her legs. At this point, her father could do nothing but vomit, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. As it was, Draco was right there with him. Draco was seconds away from vomiting himself when the Dark Lord held up his hand and they all ceased their curses.
"Now, you have a choice and I warn you this offer will only be made once. Pledge your loyalties to me and I will kill your daughter right now. Refuse to do so, and I will see to it that during these last days, or weeks if you insist, before you relent, that you will force me to do nothing to keep this from also becoming the fate of your two other daughters and son."
The man looked at his daughter, who pulled herself to her knees and was making a great effort to stop the tears and be brave, her arms wrapped tightly around her to try and stop shaking. Again, Draco was reminded of the Mudblood. He could see her doing no less in the same position, the stubborn bitch she was.
The girl's father nodded. The Dark Lord instructed him to his knees in front of him. The girl turned away, not wanting to see her father marked, her eyes lifting to the loft above. Draco knew she saw him as their eyes locked. He didn't know if she actually spoke or if he just read the words in her eyes and turned them into real sounds in his head.
"Help me... Please... save me..."
The moment was shattered by the sound of her father's cry at the pain of the marking. Draco did not wait to see what happened next; he was on his feet, rushing to the passage way. As it started to close behind him, he heard the Dark Lord's voice yell, "Avada Kadavra!"
Draco did not stop until he reached his room. He could still see her eyes and hear those deadly words. Both would haunt him for the rest of the summer. By the time he returned to Hogwarts, the nightmares had died down a bit, but there all the same.