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Death Eater\'s TOY	By : TalisRuadair Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 11187 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Series (1997-2007) and any characters and original locations within the books belong to JK Rowling. I do not profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Two – Returning to Hogwarts

Draco thought that things would get better once he reached the protective walls of Hogwarts. Surely, the evils he encountered over the summer couldn’t reach him in the castle he considered his second home. However, he quickly realized he was wrong. Things started out as normal as they could with Professor Snape as Headmaster and the Carrow brother and sister as the new professors of Dark Arts and Muggle Studies, until the first day of class that was. He wasn’t prepared for what they had in store for him, and once again that branding on his left wrist was the cause of all his new pain. He was no longer a person, he was no longer a student, and he was no longer anything more than the Death Eater’s play thing. He stupidly had hopes as he entered his classes. He had hopes that with muggle-borns being banned from returning that he had a chance of being the top student in their year. At the thought of muggle-borns his mind shifted toward a particular bushy haired one. He couldn’t help but wonder how she was doing. He was sure that she was somewhere with Potter and Weasley, hopefully doing something to bring down the Dark Lord and his deviant followers.

It started after his Dark Arts class with Professor Carrow, when Draco was told to stay after. Apparently, there was something the new professor needed to discuss with him. Upon staying after, he was quickly escorted by the elbow to the man’s chambers. His sister soon joined them and Draco felt even more disgust with himself, than he did after the Dark Lord and Bellatrix. He tried to not think about what was happening to him, as the two took turns with the whip. He was stripped naked face down on the bed, with his hands tied to the headboard at his wrists and his feet tied to the foot bored at the ankles. The pain shot through him with every lash but he clenched his jaw refusing to show any weakness.

The sister cackled, “You’re so worthless, but I have to admit that you’re still handsome. No wonder our master gave you to us as a new toy. Maybe we can find some worth in getting pleasure from your body.” She struck him with the whip a few more times before she whined, “This is getting boring. I want to see him scream.”

“I’ll see to it,” the brother pointed his wand, “Crucio.”

The white hot pain felt like a million acupuncture needles piercing him simultaneously, forced him to lose control over his clamped jaw. He screamed bloody murder as the pain continued. He wasn’t able to think or even register the screams were his own. All he could feel was the pain and no matter how many times he experienced that particular curse there was no way to build up a tolerance. The Cruciatus couldn’t be overcome by a strong will like the Imperious. The pain continued until Draco’s broken will lead to his pleading.

The sister gave a low moan, “Oh brother dear, I do believe his screams have turned me on. I so need a release, as much as I’m sure you do. Maybe we can take him at the same time. Wouldn’t it be fun to freeze his body, so we can have full control?”

Draco could barely comprehend what was going on as he started to slip from consciousness. However, his attackers wouldn’t allow him to avoid the situation. They made sure he was conscious before they performed a body bind, but allowed him the movement of his head. Of course, they had waited until she was able to get a reaction from his lower member. Draco hated being able to think, experiencing the harsh thrusts of the brother from behind, as the sister rode him from the front. In his partially frozen state, he was able to feel and register the pain, but he couldn’t find release. More and more blood rushed toward his swollen member but the curse didn’t allow movement.

After the brother and sister had reached climax several times, he had lost count, they finally released him from their hold. They just left him in pain on the bed and walked out of the room. The brother had turned his head as he left the room, “You better be out of here in thirty minutes or we’ll have a marathon fuck fest when we return.”

Draco shivered and whimpered in pain. His back stung, he was sure his innards were bruised, and tears hit the pillow, as he was forced to relieve himself. A black bubbling hatred filled his mind as he managed to dress in his school robes. Luckily, he found his wand and wasn’t forced to dress the Muggle way in his current state. He knew he probably should just suffer in the dungeons, but he feared he couldn’t make it, so he managed to reach the Hospital Wing before collapsing on the floor.

He awoke in a hospital bed with Madam Pomfrey hovering over him. When she noticed his eyes opened she muttered, “I’m not allowed to heal your wounds because they are a part of your punishment. I’m sorry, but all I could do was give you blood replenishment potions and anything that would make sure you lived. In fact, I wasn’t allowed to let you die. Though, I’m not happy about keeping one of you alive.”

Draco’s heart sank more. He knew from her words that he should’ve just gone to his room in the dungeons. There was no hope for him this year. He nodded at the mediwitch and walked out of the room. He still had shooting pain in his lower body as he walked, but he kept his Malfoy mask in place. He didn’t need any of the left over good doers finding out about his current position. He was sure that they would only take further advantage of the situation. When he reached his room, he sighed as he found his trunk opened and his items were strewn all over his bed. He didn’t care as he just collapsed on the bed and hoped that sleep would find him soon. He knew from that moment that he couldn’t achieve top student status as long as he had to deal with the abuse.

He shut the drapes to his four poster bed and cast privacy spells. He couldn’t stop himself from sobbing into his pillow as he fell asleep. There was no point to fight it. He no longer had any value. The only hope he had left was the possibility of making it through the war alive. Of course, he was on the wrong side of it. If his side won, then he probably wouldn’t live much longer after the end. If his side lost, then he probably would spend the rest of his life in Azkaban for his war crimes. Either way, he was screwed and death at a young age was beginning to look much more promising.

As if the thought had brought forth the only light he had left, a smiling brown eyed witch stared back at him. In the past he might’ve thought she was just laughing at him, but there was warmth in that smile that told him it was something else. Her eyes twinkled and were filled concern and love, as she looked upon him. It caused his heart to swell and he couldn’t help but wonder if somehow, just somehow, he might make it through the war and not have to face Azkaban when the Potter won. He drifted off to sleep with a wet smile on his face forgetting the pain of his reality for a few hours.

The days gave way to weeks and the weeks passed into months. Draco learned to adjust to his new standing and found ways to cope with his new tormentors. He could handle the brother and sister. He told himself he wasn’t broken, and for the most part he believed it. He managed to hold on to his high marks and tried to spend as much time in the library as possible. It became his sanctuary as no one messed with him in there. He was able to find a secluded area that no one else seemed to use but he remembered was occupied in years past. He was free to read and on a few occasions he fell asleep at the table. He slept better in the library than he did in his own dorm room because the library felt safe. He wasn’t safe in his dorm room because his status had gotten out to the Death Eater Children and some of them were just as keen on using him.

The library also reminded him of her. She had spent so much time in the library that he couldn’t help but wonder if she left some of her magical energy there. He felt safe as he sat at the secluded table he remembered seeing her at in previous years. He just felt closer to her as he studied, read, or slept in that spot. Part of him wondered when his obsession with the only Gryffindor with brains had started, but another part of him realized it was his thoughts of her that kept the full extent of darkness away. As long as he believed that she was out in the world somewhere with Potter fighting against the Dark Lord, the hope that he would eventually escape his current reality shone.

The worst attack occurred in the sixth floor bathroom when he was cornered by ten Death Eater sons. They each took turns causing him pain, they practiced many dark curses on him, and then they each took turns riding him. Draco was so bruised and in so much pain, but he had managed to separate his conscious thought from what was happening to his body by the fifth boy until the tenth boy knocked him out. His mind was focused on Hermione and what she was doing with Harry in a tent somewhere in on a high cliff overlooking the ocean. She was smiling as the two of them danced, and she looked beautiful even though he could tell that she had been roughing it for a while. He was out cold but consciously with his angel when they left him to die on the cold bathroom floor.

“Malfoy, are you okay?” A familiar voice broke through as his eyes tried to focus on the face of the person the voice belonged to.

It took a few minutes before Longbottom’s face came into view. Draco hissed, “What do you bloody think?”

The Gryffindor’s dark eyes widened with concern, “You look like you’ve been trampled by a whole herd of Hippogriffs. What happened?”

Anger flooded him as he tried to prevent the tears from escaping, “None of your business.”

The formerly awkward boy commanded, “I don’t care. It’s apparent you’re not safe in this castle and you’re too much of a coward to fight. So, I’ll need to find you help outside of these hallowed halls.”

Draco whimpered as the boy lifted his frail body in his arms. Some traitorous tears slipped from his grey eyes as he no longer had the strength to keep his mask intact. He gasped through the pain, “No one will help. I’m branded, no longer a person.”

The other boy’s eyes widened, “What do you mean?”

Draco didn’t answer as he lost consciousness again. He was happy to welcome the blissful darkness. When he was unconscious, he didn’t have to deal with the pain. The physical pain inflicted by others, the other pain caused by his failures, and the pain from knowing that he’d never live to confess his feelings for Granger.

Neville Longbottom was a man of his word, he was shocked when Hermione had asked him to keep an eye on Draco during Dumbledore’s funeral the previous June, but he did anyway because he told her he would. He had noticed changes in the blonde Slytherin. The other teen was more withdrawn, less likely to start a fight with Gryffindors, and spent all of his free time in the library sitting at Hermione’s old desk. Whenever he saw Draco walking down the halls, he took to following him for a bit. He was doing his usual watching over Draco shift when he witnessed a group of boys surround him on the sixth floor and pull him toward the boy’s lavatory. He stood outside of the door not sure what to do. He knew that they were doing something to Draco in there because he could hear the cries coming from the usually cruel boy, but he knew that Hogwarts had changed. He couldn’t get a Professor because he knew they wouldn't be able to do anything. He knew that he had to pick his battles when he became the standing leader of the DA in Harry’s absence.

He hid in a nearby alcove behind a tapestry representing two mated Veela, when he heard the group make their way out of the loo laughing about what they just did. He wasn’t too familiar with the group, as they were made up of underclassmen. It seemed that no one in their year had chosen to pick on Draco. He waited until he no longer heard the clamoring group walking in the hallway before he snuck out of the alcove and went into the loo to check on Draco. He had to rein in all of his Gryffindor bravery to deal with the scene before him. A bruised, bloodied, boiled, burned, and naked Draco lay unconscious on the floor in a half curled fetal position. What shocked him the most was the pink fleshy tube hanging out of the wizard’s anus, and he was sure that Draco was irreparably damaged. Surely, not even magic could fix a wound so severe.

He threw the remaining shreds of the Slytherin’s robes over the boy and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at Draco, “Rennervate.”

It was a few minutes before Draco started to show any semblance of life. He quickly assessed the other boy’s health with questions. He was relieved enough to hear some bit in Draco’s responses, which made him believe that the other wasn’t completely broken yet. He knew more than anyone what the excessive use of the Cruciatus can do to a person. His parents would never be the same thanks to Bellatrix Lestrange, and he never hoped to see another person so horribly affected. He picked up the overly light young man, who was still wrapped up in his filthy robes. However, the other wizards defeated words struck something deep within him. How could his previous bully be so resigned to his fate? Things must have been far worse than he realized if the proud Draco Malfoy truly believed there was no reason for another person to save him. Before he could question the other student more, the boy collapsed and returned to unconsciousness.

Neville continued to walk toward the hidden door to the room the DA was using as a hide out. He was quite familiar with the Room of Requirement and knew exactly what to ask for, and as long as, at least one person remained in the room it would retain its previous request. He only hoped that one of the Ravenclaws who were training with Madam Pomfrey as a healer would be there. Terry Boot could be a real prick at times, but the boy had a great talent at healing spells and muggle first aid. He was a half-blood with a muggle doctor for a mother.

He quickly thought of a small bed knowing that Draco would need something more solid than one of the hammocks the others were sleeping on. He was relieved when he saw the familiar face of Terry Boot, “I need a healer now.”

Terry looked up from his reading and jumped up when he noticed the body in his arms. Neville set Draco down on the bed and hoped that Boot wouldn’t harbor any ill will toward the Death Eater’s son. He uncovered the body knowing that Boot would need to see the injuries in order to heal them and bandage them. “Bloody hell, what happened to Malfoy?”

Neville lifted up his left forearm where the Dark Mark shone in black ink and the word toy was branded on his wrist, “I think that what Hermione told me this summer was correct. She told me that she had a dream that Draco was being punished for failing to kill Dumbledore. She didn’t go into detail but stated that he was branded and was being used as a toy. I didn’t realize what she meant at the time, but I think she meant that he was being used as a bloody sex toy.”

“Merlin, the Death Eaters have reenacted ancient sex slave brandings? How barbaric and things like this are happening at our school. I understand the psychopaths who we’re forced to call professor, but other students did this to him? I mean, I know that Malfoy’s always been a right prat, but nothing he’s done deserves this. They gave him a bloody pink sock!”

Neville furrowed his brow, “A what?”

Boot shook his head, “it’s a Muggle term for what happens when someone pulls out when their sexual partner is unconscious. It’s supposed to go back in when he awakens. However, I’m not sure if it will with the amount of damage he’s suffered there. How many people raped him?”

Neville shook his head, “I didn’t witness the act, but from what I could hear down the hall. They mustn’t have been afraid of being caught in the act because they didn’t even erect silencing wards. I’d say that each of the ten Slytherins took a turn. He seemed to stop responding after the fifth one, but I don’t know if that meant he was unconscious or if he just went somewhere else mentally. They also casted the Cruciatus on him several times and other dark curses. Can you sense the dark energy on his skin?”

Boot paled as he looked at things more closely, “I fear that I’m not going to be able to heal all of this. I will heal what I can, feed him blood replenishment and pain potions, and wrap his wounds. He’ll need to go to the hospital wing or even St. Mungo’s for a proper healing.”

Neville shook his head, “We can’t send them there. Madam Pomfrey’s hands are tied this year. She’s not allowed to heal anything that’s deemed a punishment. St. Mungo’s will just release him to his parents, who will put him right back into those bastard’s hands. I think I know where we’ll have to send him. I need to go talk with Aberforth, please patch him up while I’m gone. Oh and remember that I’m doing this at the behest of Hermione Granger. If she can find it in her heart to want to protect him and forgive him, then we should trust her judgment. I personally believe that someone being treated like him will be less likely to return to that side. I cannot help but wonder if he already harbors desires to fight against those who’ve caused him so much pain. All because he didn’t have it in him to kill an old man, but then again Snape showed his true colors that night; didn’t he?”

He opened his eyes to a brightly lit room. His wounds were somewhat bandaged and he must’ve received a pain potion. He looked around trying to figure out where the hell he was, however the room seemed so different than any room he was familiar within the castle. Though with the new presence of Longbottom, he was sure he’d soon have answers to the questions floating around his head. The Gryffindor looked him over, “Well, you’re looking a bit better, however we’re not sure of the counter curses to the dark shite they hit you with. I’m getting you out of here mate, I’m just waiting for instructions.”

Draco felt his vision swim and he tried to understand what the other boy was saying, “There’s no point. They’ll find me no matter what. I’m marked and I’m no longer a wizard in their eyes. I failed and because of it, I’m just their toy. I’m here to take the beating they’re giving. I’m here to give them pleasure. There’s no point in trying to save me. It’s not like I have much reason to live. There’s no reason for you to risk yourself, when you’re needed on the side that I hope wins. Don’t ruin your chances or Potter’s chances because of something as worthless as me.”

Something hardened in the other boy’s eyes. Something that he couldn’t place and couldn’t understand why the Gryffindor was clenching and unclenching his jaw. He shuttered when the other teen brushed his loose blond hair out of his eyes. The boy gulped, “How many times have they used the Cruciatus Curse on you?”

He clenched his fists trying to stop the tears from forming, “I’ve lost count.” His voice turned into whimpering similar to third year when he was kicked by the hippogriff, “You don’t think I’m losing my grip? I’m not losing my mind, am I? Please tell me that I’m not completely nutters. I’m still young. I have my whole life ahead of me and that stuff’s incurable. I’ve heard of people still residing in St Mungo’s after losing their minds during torture. I’d rather die. I don’t think I could handle that you know. I’ve looked into the unhinged eyes of many Death Eaters; unfortunately, I’m related to the maddest Death Eater of them all. She um…I really wish I wasn’t related to her…I wish she wasn’t the one that…”

He rubbed his hands over his face because he wasn’t going to admit what his so called aunt did to him. He didn’t want to show that type of weakness to anyone else. Neville already saw him during one of his weakest moments. He wasn’t going to give the Gryffindor he’d picked on since first year anything else. “Just forget about it. I just don’t want to end up in long term care with Lockhart at St. Mungo’s. I’m already so out of it. I fear I’m already losing it. I don’t think I can take that curse one more time without ending up there. I know that Bellatrix was sentenced to Azkaban for torturing two Aurors with that curse to where she…they were never the same again.”

The Gryffindor placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I know. My parents were her victims, but I’m still proud of their courage.”

“I’m sorry Longbottom. I’m sorry for everything my family put you through. I’m sorry for everything I put you through, but I want you to promise me something. If I ever lose it like your parents, I want you to kill me. I demand you kill me if I lose my mind. I don’t want to be like Bellatrix or vacant and unaware of my surroundings.”

“I cannot make that promise because I cannot keep it. I know it’s horrible to visit my parents and have them not recognize me, but I don’t give up hope that one day they will improve. One day, the proper cure will be found. I’m sure that someone will research a cure of the effects of the Cruciatus. If I had the intelligence, I would partake in such activities. I can only attempt to help with herbology. I more than likely would need a potions master, a healer, and an unspeakable to perform proper research. I’m sure that Terry will be willing to work on it with me as the healer.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Longbottom, I’m sure that you’ll one day find a bloody cure, but right now I should probably rest. I still don’t feel well and I’d rather not think about what’s happened to me. Please let me slip away to the dream world where kind brown eyes and warm hands will make the darkness go away. Please let me see the angle that visits me in my dreams.”

“Um yeah, I think that Terry may have given you too many pain potions. Perhaps you should sleep it off.”

A/N: So I finished the rewrite of the second chapter. I didn’t want him being torture for too long before someone stepped in. I wasn’t going to prolong it because frankly I don’t have the stomach to write continued torture. I’d rather focus on the healing that only time and a proper crises counseling can provide.
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Death Eater\'s TOY