A is for the arguments, affliction, and the aggravation
*
Draco stood outside his mother's door, staring at it. His hand was barely touching the doorknob when he heard the crash inside. Unable to move, he stood there, listening to the screams and the yells of his parents. Arguing again. Again and again. He didn't understand why they fought so much, nor why they disliked each other. They had married, and he thought it was to symbolize their love for one another. Obviously, he had been wrong.
He backed away from the door when the noises got louder, and the screams became one sided. He backed away right up against the opposite wall, scared, but his face showing little emotion. Only a gaunt look that no child his age should have to have on his face.
It was ironic. He had had a nightmare, and come to his mother searching for comfort. The strange thing was that he would never have dreamed of doing such a thing, but the only reason he did was because he had read of it in a book. So he came. And now, he was even more scared than when he was huddled under his covers, breathing hard, and trembling. The most ironic thing was, now suddenly it came to him what the nightmare had been about. It had been about his parents' arguments.
He scurried and hid around the corner when he heard the knob being turned harshly, and shuddered when the sound of his father's footsteps passed him. After he became able to breathe properly, he crept soundlessly to his mother's room, entering it silently. His mother sat, sobbing on the bed.
'Mother?' he called softly, afraid of breaking the woman who seemed already broken. But her response was one he had not expected.
She whirled around, her eyes red and gleaming, irritation and rage clearly visible on her once pretty face. 'You!' she snarled, her fingers curling. Draco backed away but she was already on her feet. 'I don't know why I didn't get the abortion when Lucius told me to,' she hissed, and Draco, only six, unable to decipher what an abortion was, ran from the room just as she lunged. He ran and hid under the covers in the dark, not daring to make any noise.
*
B is for beatings, burns, and broken bones.
*
He relaxed in the Hogwarts Express. He was going back to Hogwarts, the place where he could escape the pain, and the aimless, eternal torture. His father had always told him to face things like a man, to never run away even if his life depended on it. He was a Malfoy, dammit, and he wouldn't let his son grow up to be such a wuss.
But it felt comforting to know there was a place where his father couldn't reach out for him whenever he wanted to. It felt even better going to that place.
After a few moments of relaxing, and listening to the pointless chatter of the other children outside, he looked around at those sitting around him. Parkinson, Zabini, Knott, Crabbe and Goyle. None of them talked. They were either reading or sleeping. He looked at the bottom of their necks, and sure enough, some of them had tinges of black or blue, signs of bruising. They were all the same. That was why the Slytherins had never any friends of their own house, not that they risked making friends from other houses. They were too much alike.
It really was embarrassing. Still being beaten even though they were all seventeen. But they had no real strength. Draco's wit was useless against the end of Lucius's wand. Vincent and Gregory's strength didn't matter against their father's whips, and Blaise's intelligence mattered none to the chains that bound him in his room. Pansy was the one who received less beatings, because she had things they did not. Breasts and a vagina.
It was revolting.
After staring out the window for a few minutes, Draco got onto his feet. It was time for his annual routine of harassing Potter and his friends. But he didn't feel the hatred he had felt for them before, knowing they had so many things he didn't. The lucky bastards didn't know what they had, and spent half their time complaining over stupid things. But now he didn't feel the rancor.
All he felt was despair. It was his last year at Hogwarts. And if Lucius didn't die within this year. . . .frankly, Draco was terrified of this year ending. A year can pass in a blink of an eye, and Draco knew it.
So when he entered the compartment of the Gryffindors, even with Crabbe and Goyle's bulk behind him, he knew he had made a mistake. He should never try attacking anyone, verbally or physically, if he wasn't feeling angry. His wit and common sense died with his anger, and he was about to get a very good reminder of it.
The Gryffindors had changed. Like all teenagers did, they had grown out of their awkward stages, and transformed into near adults. Draco had gone through the same changes, but he could see that changes didn't matter. He was outnumbered. He tried to make an exit before they could do anything, but they had already pushed out Crabbe and Goyle, gabbing about not wanting to hurt people who just followed orders, brainlessly. Then they slammed the door shut in his face, Weasley was grinning in front of it with an evil grin in front of it.
Not here. Not now. Please. It was all that was going through Draco's head, but he couldn't seem to open his mouth to say it. It was then he realized how petty he was compared to them, and how hopeless the fight would be.
*
U is for being unable to run away. Uselessness, and the unbearable pain
*
Draco didn't mention a thing as the beatings continued. They found him out when there was no one else around. The Slytherins found out what the Gryffindors were up to. So whenever the Gryffindors neared them, they evaporated, leaving Draco alone to face them all. It was the most common survival rule. Avoid getting screwed, even if it meant someone else had to pay the price. So that was what they did.
He was being punished, they said one night, as he was given his last kick. For all the things he'd done during the last seven years. For making them miserable. They were getting even with him. And someone kicked him in the stomach. On the exact same spot Lucius had practically ripped out. Draco's eyes became dilated, and he doubled over, not making a sound. The Gryffindors all laughed, but someone noticed Draco's lack of movement. Was he breathing?
Who cares, was the answer, but all of them had stiffened at the question. They checked. Yes, he was breathing. But only barely. Harry stepped closer to roll him over, when he stepped in a puddle of something. It was dark, so he lighted his wand with a simple Lumos spell.
It was blood. Lots and lots of it. Enough to go around.
*
S is for the scars and screams, the ones that never seem to end. Suffering as well.
*
He woke up in the infirmary. His body was heavily bandaged, and there were various bottles of potions and medicine on the tray beside him.
'You're awake,' someone said, and Draco turned his head to see who. It was Harry Potter.
'What're you doing here, I thought you would have better things to do,' Draco replied, but his voice lacked the sarcasm it once held. Harry sighed, lowering his head.
'We're sorry about what we did.' There was a pause.
'Then why did you do it?' Draco asked, and Harry looked back at him, his mouth open to say something, when he saw Draco's eyes. They were hard. Hardened. Like the guys who had been in the penitentiary for too long. They cared for no one, cared for nothing.
'We want to make it up to you,' Harry said, trying to change the subject, but he could see Draco was still thinking about what they had done to him. Or at least, he thought he could see. It had always been rather hard to see what exactly Malfoy was thinking about. ' You've been inspected by Madame Pomphrey, and she realized you had been. . .victimized,' Harry said tentatively, but it was blatant that Draco didn't care at all what Harry was blabbing on about. 'We've been questioning your parents, and it was confirmed that your parents were responsible. They're going to receive the kiss tomorrow. You've been sleeping for a week and a half, and we skipped over the part where you stand as a witness in the trial. . .' Harry trailed off, looking for some kind of response. He had honestly never seen a person who could be so expressionless when they were told their parents was about to receive the kiss. 'Well?' Harry asked, and Draco faced him.
'Good,' Draco commented, and closed his eyes. He was tired, and needed rest desperately. Harry was left staring at him, mouth slightly opened.
*
and E is for the end.
*
'Draco, we've talked about this. You really shouldn't sleep with other people when you're dating someone,' Harry said, half angry, half pleading, but Draco just waved him off.
'It's only for the sex. Is it so wrong of me to want to fuck a bloody girl now and then? If you can't deal with it, then I suggest we stop this bloody relationship thing,' Draco said, lighting a cigarette.
'Malfoy, I must have said this at least a thousand times. How many more times do I have to tell you to get it through your head? I'm trying to teach you how to carry a steady relationship, and I won't stop until I've changed you,' Harry said loudly, but he was startled when Draco laughed.
'No.' Draco blew smoke rings. Harry gave him a disgusted look.
'No? No?? What do you mean, No?' Harry snapped. Draco leered at him.
'You started out with that intention, but now it's different. Anyone in their right sense of mind would have stopped midway. But you're still trying, and I know why,' Draco said, exhaling smoke and watching Harry's face go white. 'You've fallen in love with me.'
'I have not,' Harry said, but his voice didn't sound as confident as he looked. Draco tapped his cigarette on the edge of an ashtray.
' Yeah, whatever. But I'll tell you something you should keep in mind. You don't want to like me. It'll only be your loss, none of mine.' Draco said, and Harry glared at him.
'What makes you so sure?' Harry asked, appearing to be livid, but unsure inwards.
'Because, my dear Harry, I can't love anything,' Draco said, smirking at the look on Harry's face.
'That's bullshit. I'll make you, I swear I will,' Harry said but Draco shook his head.
'I couldn't love anything even if I wanted to,' Draco said, and for a split second he looked sad. Then he returned to how he always looked, cool, uncaring, and deadly. 'I'll let you on a little secret. A little Malfoy secret.' Something in Draco's voice made Harry shudder.
'When you love, you don't love with your heart. You love with your mind. Your brain. And there is something called a pituitary gland. A hypophysis. If you have surgery on it, you can get rid of the ability to love. It's known even in the muggle world, but it only happens when you get neoplasm, or a tumor, and get a surgery on it. Some wizards experimented illegally, and found out how to unable the person from loving.' Draco paused, and took a long drag from his cigarette. 'And that is what we Malfoys do, or did, to our offspring.'
Harry gaped at him. It seemed possible, maybe it was just a way to brainwash them into thinking they couldn't. . .but it was possible. It was cruel, ruthless, vile thing to do to any human, their own offspring at that! But it seemed something they could do. After all, they weren't able to love their own offspring either, right?
'That's disgusting,' Harry said after a long while, and Draco laughed.
'Yes, the things we do,' Draco said, blowing smoke out of his nose.
Harry stared at the man sitting in front of him. He couldn't be lying. Why would he lie? Harry then realized what Draco had said was right. He had started out with the intention of showing the great things about living. About love and friends and happiness. During the process, though, he began to see through Draco's eyes. The things that Harry loved about life was shite to Draco. Quidditch was stupid. Draco admitted he actually hated the sport, only took an interest in it because it might lessen the beatings he received from his father. Friends were for people who were happy, and Draco didn't know how to be happy. He knew how to be content, satisfied, but he never seemed to understand happiness itself. When Harry had tried to explain it to him, Draco had laughed and answered that it felt the same way to be on crack. After that Harry didn't even bother to try explaining.
But each and every day he spent with the blonde man made him become more fascinated with him, and before he knew it, he started liking him. It wasn't expected, and it certainly wasn't a welcome emotion, but he felt it all the same.
And now, here Draco was, sitting in front of him, telling him that he couldn't love a thing because of some goddamn operation.
'Where can you get the operation?' Harry asked, and Draco looked away from the window.
'Excuse me?' Draco asked, and Harry swallowed.
'I asked where can you get the operation.'
'You can get it at the private hospital we used, but it'll be of no use,' Draco drawled, and Harry snapped.
'Why won't it be of any use? Doesn't work for soft hearted Gryffindors like me, does it? Won't change who I am, is that it?' Harry yelled, and he threw an inkbottle. He hated it that while he liked Draco so much, Draco would never like him back. He might as well get the operation so he and Draco would be even. Draco ducked and the inkbottle flew out the window.
'No, it's just that you need to get the operation before puberty. And judging by your looks, I'd say that you're just about. . .five years late,' Draco sneered. Harry stared at him for a moment, before storming out of the room, leaving Draco laughing behind him.
*
Arguments, resulting to beatings that result in broken bones, and broken minds. Being called useless and unable to run away from it all. Affliction, aggravation Unbearable pain that leaves scars. Suffering for time that never seems to end, the screams echoing off the walls and burning permanent marks in your memory. All down to one word.
Abuse.
The end.
*
Draco stood outside his mother's door, staring at it. His hand was barely touching the doorknob when he heard the crash inside. Unable to move, he stood there, listening to the screams and the yells of his parents. Arguing again. Again and again. He didn't understand why they fought so much, nor why they disliked each other. They had married, and he thought it was to symbolize their love for one another. Obviously, he had been wrong.
He backed away from the door when the noises got louder, and the screams became one sided. He backed away right up against the opposite wall, scared, but his face showing little emotion. Only a gaunt look that no child his age should have to have on his face.
It was ironic. He had had a nightmare, and come to his mother searching for comfort. The strange thing was that he would never have dreamed of doing such a thing, but the only reason he did was because he had read of it in a book. So he came. And now, he was even more scared than when he was huddled under his covers, breathing hard, and trembling. The most ironic thing was, now suddenly it came to him what the nightmare had been about. It had been about his parents' arguments.
He scurried and hid around the corner when he heard the knob being turned harshly, and shuddered when the sound of his father's footsteps passed him. After he became able to breathe properly, he crept soundlessly to his mother's room, entering it silently. His mother sat, sobbing on the bed.
'Mother?' he called softly, afraid of breaking the woman who seemed already broken. But her response was one he had not expected.
She whirled around, her eyes red and gleaming, irritation and rage clearly visible on her once pretty face. 'You!' she snarled, her fingers curling. Draco backed away but she was already on her feet. 'I don't know why I didn't get the abortion when Lucius told me to,' she hissed, and Draco, only six, unable to decipher what an abortion was, ran from the room just as she lunged. He ran and hid under the covers in the dark, not daring to make any noise.
*
B is for beatings, burns, and broken bones.
*
He relaxed in the Hogwarts Express. He was going back to Hogwarts, the place where he could escape the pain, and the aimless, eternal torture. His father had always told him to face things like a man, to never run away even if his life depended on it. He was a Malfoy, dammit, and he wouldn't let his son grow up to be such a wuss.
But it felt comforting to know there was a place where his father couldn't reach out for him whenever he wanted to. It felt even better going to that place.
After a few moments of relaxing, and listening to the pointless chatter of the other children outside, he looked around at those sitting around him. Parkinson, Zabini, Knott, Crabbe and Goyle. None of them talked. They were either reading or sleeping. He looked at the bottom of their necks, and sure enough, some of them had tinges of black or blue, signs of bruising. They were all the same. That was why the Slytherins had never any friends of their own house, not that they risked making friends from other houses. They were too much alike.
It really was embarrassing. Still being beaten even though they were all seventeen. But they had no real strength. Draco's wit was useless against the end of Lucius's wand. Vincent and Gregory's strength didn't matter against their father's whips, and Blaise's intelligence mattered none to the chains that bound him in his room. Pansy was the one who received less beatings, because she had things they did not. Breasts and a vagina.
It was revolting.
After staring out the window for a few minutes, Draco got onto his feet. It was time for his annual routine of harassing Potter and his friends. But he didn't feel the hatred he had felt for them before, knowing they had so many things he didn't. The lucky bastards didn't know what they had, and spent half their time complaining over stupid things. But now he didn't feel the rancor.
All he felt was despair. It was his last year at Hogwarts. And if Lucius didn't die within this year. . . .frankly, Draco was terrified of this year ending. A year can pass in a blink of an eye, and Draco knew it.
So when he entered the compartment of the Gryffindors, even with Crabbe and Goyle's bulk behind him, he knew he had made a mistake. He should never try attacking anyone, verbally or physically, if he wasn't feeling angry. His wit and common sense died with his anger, and he was about to get a very good reminder of it.
The Gryffindors had changed. Like all teenagers did, they had grown out of their awkward stages, and transformed into near adults. Draco had gone through the same changes, but he could see that changes didn't matter. He was outnumbered. He tried to make an exit before they could do anything, but they had already pushed out Crabbe and Goyle, gabbing about not wanting to hurt people who just followed orders, brainlessly. Then they slammed the door shut in his face, Weasley was grinning in front of it with an evil grin in front of it.
Not here. Not now. Please. It was all that was going through Draco's head, but he couldn't seem to open his mouth to say it. It was then he realized how petty he was compared to them, and how hopeless the fight would be.
*
U is for being unable to run away. Uselessness, and the unbearable pain
*
Draco didn't mention a thing as the beatings continued. They found him out when there was no one else around. The Slytherins found out what the Gryffindors were up to. So whenever the Gryffindors neared them, they evaporated, leaving Draco alone to face them all. It was the most common survival rule. Avoid getting screwed, even if it meant someone else had to pay the price. So that was what they did.
He was being punished, they said one night, as he was given his last kick. For all the things he'd done during the last seven years. For making them miserable. They were getting even with him. And someone kicked him in the stomach. On the exact same spot Lucius had practically ripped out. Draco's eyes became dilated, and he doubled over, not making a sound. The Gryffindors all laughed, but someone noticed Draco's lack of movement. Was he breathing?
Who cares, was the answer, but all of them had stiffened at the question. They checked. Yes, he was breathing. But only barely. Harry stepped closer to roll him over, when he stepped in a puddle of something. It was dark, so he lighted his wand with a simple Lumos spell.
It was blood. Lots and lots of it. Enough to go around.
*
S is for the scars and screams, the ones that never seem to end. Suffering as well.
*
He woke up in the infirmary. His body was heavily bandaged, and there were various bottles of potions and medicine on the tray beside him.
'You're awake,' someone said, and Draco turned his head to see who. It was Harry Potter.
'What're you doing here, I thought you would have better things to do,' Draco replied, but his voice lacked the sarcasm it once held. Harry sighed, lowering his head.
'We're sorry about what we did.' There was a pause.
'Then why did you do it?' Draco asked, and Harry looked back at him, his mouth open to say something, when he saw Draco's eyes. They were hard. Hardened. Like the guys who had been in the penitentiary for too long. They cared for no one, cared for nothing.
'We want to make it up to you,' Harry said, trying to change the subject, but he could see Draco was still thinking about what they had done to him. Or at least, he thought he could see. It had always been rather hard to see what exactly Malfoy was thinking about. ' You've been inspected by Madame Pomphrey, and she realized you had been. . .victimized,' Harry said tentatively, but it was blatant that Draco didn't care at all what Harry was blabbing on about. 'We've been questioning your parents, and it was confirmed that your parents were responsible. They're going to receive the kiss tomorrow. You've been sleeping for a week and a half, and we skipped over the part where you stand as a witness in the trial. . .' Harry trailed off, looking for some kind of response. He had honestly never seen a person who could be so expressionless when they were told their parents was about to receive the kiss. 'Well?' Harry asked, and Draco faced him.
'Good,' Draco commented, and closed his eyes. He was tired, and needed rest desperately. Harry was left staring at him, mouth slightly opened.
*
and E is for the end.
*
'Draco, we've talked about this. You really shouldn't sleep with other people when you're dating someone,' Harry said, half angry, half pleading, but Draco just waved him off.
'It's only for the sex. Is it so wrong of me to want to fuck a bloody girl now and then? If you can't deal with it, then I suggest we stop this bloody relationship thing,' Draco said, lighting a cigarette.
'Malfoy, I must have said this at least a thousand times. How many more times do I have to tell you to get it through your head? I'm trying to teach you how to carry a steady relationship, and I won't stop until I've changed you,' Harry said loudly, but he was startled when Draco laughed.
'No.' Draco blew smoke rings. Harry gave him a disgusted look.
'No? No?? What do you mean, No?' Harry snapped. Draco leered at him.
'You started out with that intention, but now it's different. Anyone in their right sense of mind would have stopped midway. But you're still trying, and I know why,' Draco said, exhaling smoke and watching Harry's face go white. 'You've fallen in love with me.'
'I have not,' Harry said, but his voice didn't sound as confident as he looked. Draco tapped his cigarette on the edge of an ashtray.
' Yeah, whatever. But I'll tell you something you should keep in mind. You don't want to like me. It'll only be your loss, none of mine.' Draco said, and Harry glared at him.
'What makes you so sure?' Harry asked, appearing to be livid, but unsure inwards.
'Because, my dear Harry, I can't love anything,' Draco said, smirking at the look on Harry's face.
'That's bullshit. I'll make you, I swear I will,' Harry said but Draco shook his head.
'I couldn't love anything even if I wanted to,' Draco said, and for a split second he looked sad. Then he returned to how he always looked, cool, uncaring, and deadly. 'I'll let you on a little secret. A little Malfoy secret.' Something in Draco's voice made Harry shudder.
'When you love, you don't love with your heart. You love with your mind. Your brain. And there is something called a pituitary gland. A hypophysis. If you have surgery on it, you can get rid of the ability to love. It's known even in the muggle world, but it only happens when you get neoplasm, or a tumor, and get a surgery on it. Some wizards experimented illegally, and found out how to unable the person from loving.' Draco paused, and took a long drag from his cigarette. 'And that is what we Malfoys do, or did, to our offspring.'
Harry gaped at him. It seemed possible, maybe it was just a way to brainwash them into thinking they couldn't. . .but it was possible. It was cruel, ruthless, vile thing to do to any human, their own offspring at that! But it seemed something they could do. After all, they weren't able to love their own offspring either, right?
'That's disgusting,' Harry said after a long while, and Draco laughed.
'Yes, the things we do,' Draco said, blowing smoke out of his nose.
Harry stared at the man sitting in front of him. He couldn't be lying. Why would he lie? Harry then realized what Draco had said was right. He had started out with the intention of showing the great things about living. About love and friends and happiness. During the process, though, he began to see through Draco's eyes. The things that Harry loved about life was shite to Draco. Quidditch was stupid. Draco admitted he actually hated the sport, only took an interest in it because it might lessen the beatings he received from his father. Friends were for people who were happy, and Draco didn't know how to be happy. He knew how to be content, satisfied, but he never seemed to understand happiness itself. When Harry had tried to explain it to him, Draco had laughed and answered that it felt the same way to be on crack. After that Harry didn't even bother to try explaining.
But each and every day he spent with the blonde man made him become more fascinated with him, and before he knew it, he started liking him. It wasn't expected, and it certainly wasn't a welcome emotion, but he felt it all the same.
And now, here Draco was, sitting in front of him, telling him that he couldn't love a thing because of some goddamn operation.
'Where can you get the operation?' Harry asked, and Draco looked away from the window.
'Excuse me?' Draco asked, and Harry swallowed.
'I asked where can you get the operation.'
'You can get it at the private hospital we used, but it'll be of no use,' Draco drawled, and Harry snapped.
'Why won't it be of any use? Doesn't work for soft hearted Gryffindors like me, does it? Won't change who I am, is that it?' Harry yelled, and he threw an inkbottle. He hated it that while he liked Draco so much, Draco would never like him back. He might as well get the operation so he and Draco would be even. Draco ducked and the inkbottle flew out the window.
'No, it's just that you need to get the operation before puberty. And judging by your looks, I'd say that you're just about. . .five years late,' Draco sneered. Harry stared at him for a moment, before storming out of the room, leaving Draco laughing behind him.
*
Arguments, resulting to beatings that result in broken bones, and broken minds. Being called useless and unable to run away from it all. Affliction, aggravation Unbearable pain that leaves scars. Suffering for time that never seems to end, the screams echoing off the walls and burning permanent marks in your memory. All down to one word.
Abuse.
The end.