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Malfoy's Hidden Pain	By : LadyReadsalot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 6965 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer One: I do not own any of these characters, nor make any money of this story.

Disclaimer Two: Okay everyone! Here we go. This chapter will be a lot of background info; it will be flashbacks from Draco’s life before the war during the war, and after the war till present. There might be some content that you might not want to read if you are against rape, I will try to warn beforehand so you can skip.

Chapter Four-Memories

Draco-five years old

“Draco! I thought I told you to be here at seven sharp.” Draco looked guiltingly up at his father’s face. As usual, nothing showed; no emotions, not a hint as to what was to come. He should have known better then to play outside this afternoon, knowing he would get dirty and need to wash up, therefore making him late for dinner. The last time it had happened, he couldn’t sit down for a week. ‘Please let it go, please let it go.’ Little Draco mentally chanted.

          “Let it go? And why should I do such a thing?” Draco flinched. He had forgotten; once again, that his father could enter his mind; now he knew for sure that he would be getting punished.

          “Yes, you will. I will not have a ungrateful, useless boy for a son. Now, take your seat, after supper, you will follow me downstairs. It seems you need a better lesson of respect my word. This time I will not take it easy on you.” Draco nodded his head and silently walked to his seat at the large dinner table. He could see his mother laughing a few seats down from him, and he mentally berated himself for putting himself in this position.

          Though only five years old, Draco knew the way of things in the house; knew what to expect when you defied Lucious Malfoy. Nothing went on in the house without his say so, and if you dared go against his wishes, you paid dearly for it.

          After supper ended, Draco got up and followed his father and mother down the steep stairs, conveniently hidden in his father’s study behind, cliché as it were, a old strongly warded tapestry. The tapestry depicted of a wizard war from the old century, the light against the dark, Draco was ever fascinated by it.

          “On the table Draco.” Thrust out of his thoughts by his mother’s voice, Draco quickly complied, not wanting the punishment to be worse than it already was going to be.

          Draco stripped off all his clothes and lay on his back on. He stared at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the pain. Draco flinched at the first cut, on the bottom of his right foot. His father liked going for the sensitive areas, working from bottom to top. Of course the cut was only in his mind. The pain was real, the feeling of the knife making its way across his skin was real, but the knife was spelled to not let a sing drop of blood drip, no scar left behind. A sick trick Luscious loved to perform.

          The first few dozen cuts, Draco was able to hold in the cries and screams, but as the knife’s edge mad there was to his stomach and chest, the pain was to great and the screams spilled out, the laughter and insults coming from his parents were the last things he heard before he let the blackness take hold of him.

Draco-ten years old

          “How could you let him reject you so easily? All you had to do was get him to befriend you. What is so hard about that? Why was I cursed with such a pathetic useless piece of shit for a son?” Draco inwardly cried at the hate full words his father was spewing. It wasn’t like this was the first time the words were spoken to him, nor would they be the last. But the slaps that went along with the words did the most damage.

          Draco was bent over the elegant black sofa that occupied the living room of the Malfoy Manor, his pants were down at his feet, legs spread, and a thick black leather belt was repeatedly smacked against his arse and the backs of his legs. Draco could already feel the bruises rising on his skin, and knew he wouldn’t be able to hold the screams in for much longer.

          Five years was a long time to teach Draco control. When he was five, it took his father exactly thirty minutes to make him break, which only made the end of his punishment worse, but now, Draco could withstand hours of pain before he gave into the screams. However, on occasions like tonight, where his body was already abused and sore; the belt was the one thing that could break Draco the fastest. Only forty-five minutes had lapsed and Draco was holding on by only a thin thread, just wishing Luscious would end so he could go back to school.

          It was only the first night of Draco’s journey at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and already Luscious had found a way to get him back into the house, the place where pain and misery over ruled any memory of happiness he once had. Draco scolded himself mentally, all he had to do was make Harry Potter his friend, get him to join forces so he could report back anything he found out, to his father. And even at that, Draco failed. He was truly starting to believe what his father said about him. Maybe he was pathetic and useless.

          “I don’t want anymore failures, Draco. Do you hear me?” One more powerful smack to the back of his legs, and Luscious finally put down the belt. Draco practically sagged into the sofa, but knew that would only start his father off again, careful of the bruises, Draco pulled up his pants and nodded to his father before stepping into the fireplace and flooing back to his dorm. Thanks to his father, Draco had a private room right off the boys’ dormitory of the Slytherin house. At times like this, Draco was glad.

          Stepping out of his pants and taking off his shirt, Draco made his way to a full length mirror to the right of his bed. Keeping his eyes down as he stepped in the middle of it, Draco took a deep breath and raised his eyes. A boy of ten was what everyone saw; a snarky, spoiled rich, son of a death eater. But the truth stared right back at Draco through his reflection. A sad, abused, scared child stood in front of that mirror. Black and blue bruises marred his entire body, front and back; now. For what must have been the millionth time, Draco let the tears slip down his face as he whispered, ‘Why.’

Draco-twelve years old

Draco loved to fly. The feel of the wind rushing by him, the roar of his heart beating fast as the adrenaline flooded his body. There was nothing better than escaping his live on a fast, precise, broom. In the air he felt free, weightless, like nothing to get to him; no pain, humiliation, or abuse. All thoughts escaped him, if only for a little while, and that was all Draco cared about. That is, till he would reach the ground once again and the image of his father staring daggers at him, from the stands, would remind him that he had failed once again.

          Coming out of the lock room, Draco took a deep breath and proceeded to his father and mother, who had a perfectly blank look on their faces. Trying to ignore the fact that he was about to be taken home for yet another lesson, Draco adverted his eyes slightly to the left and saw the Golden Trio. Potter and Weasel were being congratulated by their house on yet another victory over Slytherin house, the bookworm, know-it-all, stood right off to the left as not to get trampled by the whored of people rushing the two star players.

          Draco knew it was irrational, knew that if his father found out, or anyone for that matter, he would be a walking target, if not a dead man; but he couldn’t help but stare at her. To him, she was perfection. The once, frizzy hair, was now sleek and shinny; reaching the middle of her back. Draco longed to run his hands through it. She had grown taller the last years since he first saw her; he just knew she would fit perfectly under his chin, tucked against his body.

          But it wasn’t meant to be, and Draco knew it. The façade he had to put on every day, the name calling, the superior complex that hugged him like a suffocating scarf, kept him in check of the reality. He was a useless, pathetic, meaningless waste of space. That one fact, which had been drilled into him since he was old enough to understand, had finally sunk in; Draco knew that no one could love someone like him. However, in the deepest part of his heart, Draco hoped. Hoped that one day he would be able to be free of his parents, of his life of suffering; that one day someone would finally see the truth he had to hide.

          Draco didn’t know that he had arrived home, until his father threw a cruciatis curse at him. As the spell ended, Draco caught his breath and focused outside the pain as another and another spell hit him. The night had just begun, and yet again, Draco hoped.

Draco-fifteen years old (warning!! This is where sexual abuse comes into play)

          Draco was home for another Christmas. He sat at the end of his large fort poster bed, gently rubbing the Slytherin green bedding, waiting for something to happen. It was much too quiet, too still for something not to happen. He had been home for three days, and he hadn’t seen nor heard from either his mother or father. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but Draco had a feeling it was going to be bad.

          Thinking back through years, Draco could tell that an end was near for him. Voldemort was crazier than ever. His father trying to get him to become stronger so that one day he would join the dark side; but in reality, all the lessons were breaking Draco more and more. The only thing that kept him going was Quiditch, which kept him in shape and semi healthy; and even that was losing its appeal. All the hopes he had kept in the dark, the freedom he had dreamt of in the stillness of the night, the one witch he could actually love for the rest of his life, it was all that; just a dream.

          Sometime later, Draco awoke; haven’t not realized he had fallen asleep, or how long he had been that way; to a noise. Not moving or making a sound, Draco listened, trying to find what had made that noise. A few seconds later another noise from the side of his bed made Draco jump. But before he could scream, yell, or voice any concerns, a binding curse fell upon him and Draco was out like a light once again.

          “Wake up you pathetic boy.” Draco groaned, he felt like his body had been weighted down by a ton of bricks. Everything was heavy; the chains his father had recently acquired were firmly in place. Draco groggily came back to reality. He saw that he was in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, the room his parents preferred to torment him in. he was naked as usual, but he could feel something different; something was wrong with him. Looking down his body, Draco saw he was erect, standing straight up. He was bewildered, confused, and disgusted. ‘How can I get hard, here of all places?’ Draco thought to himself.

          “Mmmm….look at him, my dear. Nice and hard for me. Would you like to watch as I fuck him?” Draco whipped his head to the side and saw his mother and father staring at him with pure lust in their eyes. Draco shook his head. ‘No, this can’t be happening,’ he chanted. Soon he would wake up back in his room, and this would all be a nightmare.

          Draco watched as his father undressed. His stomach rebelled at the hard length revealed. ‘No, please no.’ Draco closed his eyes briefly, this was just a dream. Opening his eyes, he could see his mother between Lucious’s legs, bobbing her head while Luscious grinned leeringly at Draco.

          “Like what you see, son? Don’t worry, you’ll have it soon enough.” Draco gagged at the thought of his father coming anywhere near him with that thing. How could this happen to him? What had he done, that was so wrong, in the past to warrant this life? A popping sound drew Draco’s attention once again.

          “Let me have him first, Lucious? I need it so bad.” Tears streamed down Draco’s face uninhibited. He was about to be raped, not just by his father, but his mother as well.’ How could it get any worse?’ Draco thought.

          “How bout we take him together, love? You ride him while I fuck him. I can’t wait to get into that tight hole of his. I’ve waited long enough to do this, I won’t let your selfishness ruin it.” Lucious quickly swished his wand to tighten the chains around Draco, making it impossible to move without cutting the chains deeper into his skin.

          Draco stare at the ceiling, fixated on the small crack he had discovered years ago. If he could think fast enough, get into his head before they were on him, in him; Draco thought he might actually be okay. But as usual, he failed, and the burning pain of his father’s cock ramming into his body exploded all his sensors. It was if he was split in two; rendered as the broken boy he hide from everyone else.

          Just as the initial thrust turned into rhythmic slams, Draco felt wetness below. Not daring to move his gaze from the crack in the ceiling; Draco could only speculate it was his mother riding him. The moans and groans told him the sick and depraved pleasure his parents were having from his battered and broke body. A ringing in his ears alerted Draco that he was screaming, but even knowing this, his body was on auto pilot, he had no control over what it did now. All Draco could focus on was that tiny, three inch crack. It was the life line, the one thing he could take comfort in.

          Hours later, when Lucious and Narssica where finished with his soiled body; Draco was left alone, released from the chains but afforded no help. After what seemed like hours to him, Draco was able to pull himself off the alter and made his way above stairs and to his room. Once there, Draco immediately went to his bathroom and threw up till nothing would come out; and even then his body wouldn’t stop.

          How could they do it to him? Why him? Why couldn’t anyone see what was happening? Draco had long ago stopped acting the superior; stopped picking on the younger students at school. Kept to him more and more, stopped eating most his food every day. Did everyone just simply not care? Or was he such a great actor he fooled everyone without thought?

          Standing up from the toilet, Draco immediately got into the shower, turning in on to scolding hot. He had to wash the memories away. The sounds and feelings going through his brain and body were indescribable torture. His stomach once again rebelled on him, and Draco bent down and dry heaved.

          Once the water had turned cold, and Draco's skin had been rubbed down to irritated pink skin, Draco stumbled out of the shower, leaning on the sink to hold himself upright. Looking into the mirror, Draco hated what he saw. Who was he anymore, other than a play thing for his perverse parents?

          Draco stared into his reflection for a long time, loathing himself, hating what he had become; all the pain in him rising to the surface despite his control. He just couldn’t take it anymore. The beats, the abuse, the humiliation; and now, now, he had to deal with rape. It was too much. Draco, without thought or recognition, punched the mirror. Pieces of glass rained down into the sink and on the ground. Draco picked up a sharp piece, needing some kind of reliese from everything wrong in his life.

          A quick deep cut on his forearm earned a hiss of satisfaction. Draco felt the rush of blood and felt like everything bad was leaving his body. Another quick slash to the other arm and Draco was in bliss. Before too much blood was lost, Draco healed the cuts, before he added two more to each arm; always healing before too much blood could flow out.

          Long minutes later, Draco was once again in his bed; he looked down at his already scared arms, and knew he found his way out. One day, when it was too much to take, he knew he could leave, had a way out of the hell hole he called life. The question was now, how long could he hold out before he was broken beyond compare and have to actually take that way out?

Draco-seventeen (six months after Voldemorts demise)

Draco couldn’t believe it. Every day he would wake up and wonder when the next beating would come, when he would open his eyes and realize everything had been a dream and Voldermolt had actual won. That he was right now in some dungeon cell waiting for his father and mother to start his lesson. To hear his screams pour forth out of his mouth as his father rammed himself into his abused body once again. Or his mother to straddle his waist, lowering herself onto his spelled body, just for her pleasure.

          But eight months was a long time to wait, and Draco was finially coming to terms with it. He was free. Free. Draco didn’t know what to do, what to say, think. Everything was his for the taking. After the trials of his parents; when he had testified and gotten them both sent to Azkaband for being Death Eaters, Draco had been up. He had thought he was going to; but for some unknown reason, Harry friking Potter, had stepped up and spoke for him. Saved him from a life in prison. It was hard being thankful to someone that caused so much of your pain and suffering.

          School was starting again in a couple weeks. Draco was happy to accept the invitation to finish his schooling, to return to the one place he had always been the safest. Right now, Draco had been under the Malfoy’s roof, and the memories of what had happened there leaked in Draco's mind. His nightmares filled with scrams and pain.

          Just as the idea that he was okay again, the black cloud that always hovered above him, opened up and rained down its misery.

          “WHAT!?” Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His parents, whom were supposed to be in the middle of an ocean on a rock, in a prison, surrounded by dementors; had escaped. Where right now out there somewhere. Probably on their way to get him, their pathetic, traitorous son.

          “Don’t worry, Mr. Malfoy. We will have someone on watch for you until the situation is solved or you return to Hogwarts. They couldn’t have gone far, and without magic, we will catch them in no time.” The Minister of Magic announced.

          Draco snorted, but refused to say anything further. His slow realized freedom was locked, once again, behind the fear of being found by his parents.

          Weeks went by, Draco returned to school and with that he was astounded to know he had made Head boy. Through the last three years of school, Draco had focused on his studies, contrary to popular belief, working hard to be top of his game; unfortunately, he could never best one person. The one person he secretly longed for, someone who he hoped might one day see the real him.

          Months past and Draco was getting better, physically as well as mentally. He had thought that he was save, no reporting’s of his parents had surfaced, his body guards had been released, and his dreams became less frequent. He should have known it wouldn’t last.

          One day on a trip to Hogsmead, Draco was suddenly pulled into an alley way. He had been on his way to Olivander’s wand shop to get a wand polishing set, when a hand covered his mouth and pulled. He tried to fight but un-awareness and lack of strength, in his still too weak body, caused him to be unsuccessful.

          “Thought you were safe from us didn’t you? Happily going around, causing shame to our good name. And I thought you couldn’t disappoint me any farther. But don’t worry, ill fix you soon enough.” Draco shook with fear. His fathers word hiss angrily in his ear caused flash backs of previous lessons, pain that had been almost forgotten. His mother stepped in front of him, leaning close and hissing her own venom in his ear.

          “How I have missed you, my love. How I have yearned for that body and your screams of pain.” Narssica ran her hand down his body, groping his crotch hard, causing a whimper of fear and pain to slip past his lips. Draco frantically looked around for help, but no one seemed to know, care, or sense what was happening.

          “My dear husband, I think he needs to be taught a lesson, right here and right now. He seems to think people actually care about him. That someone will come to his rescue. He has grown soft in our absence.” Draco’s fear rose, he felt his mother’s hand move once more and before he could do anything, she had his wand in her hand and was casting her special spell on his body.

          “I think you are correct, wife. He has indeed been too complacent since he turned on is. The little traitor needs a good lesson right about now, to be shown who is Master here.” With those words, Lucious one handedly yanked up Draco's robes and pulled his pants down, his mother in front of him helping. Draco pleaded in his head, begged someone to turn their head this way. Something so this wouldn’t happen.

          Before his father could ram into his with his stiff cock, Draco was able to slip into his mind; away from his pain and fear, somewhere where nothing could hurt him. He let his body go limp, numbed out completely. Minutes passed, Draco didn’t know how long, before he was thrown on the ground and kicked a few times in his ribs.

          “You know the drill, son. I want you home in two days time. And don’t even think about telling anyone where we will be. There are many secrets of Malfoy Manor that the Ministry doesn’t know about. They would never find us.” Another swift, hard, kick to the ribs followed the statement and his wand was thrown at him in pieces. A couple ‘pops’ later, and Draco was left alone in the dirty alley; laying on the ground, pants around his ankles, blood running down between his legs, other bodily fluids covered his lower half.

          Draco tried to get up, his ribs screaming at him loudly. He knew that at least two, maybe three of them where broken. Draco, after several minutes, was able to stagger to his feet and pull his pants up. His broken wand still lay in a heap on the snow covered ground, bending down, quite painfully, and picked it up. Now he really needed to go to Olivander’s.

          “Mr. Malfoy. What are you doing here?” Draco grimaced at the man’s loud voice. He slowly made his way to the counter and laid his wand down gently. Olivaner gasped loudly and gently picked the wand up.

          “What has happened to you?” Olivander spoke to the wand. He wondered into the back of his store without so much as a word to Draco, and vanished from view. Draco leaned hard on the counter, gasping for breath, his head was swimming, and he knew if he was out much longer, he would pass out.

          Ten minutes later, Olivander came back out and placed the, now whole, wand back in front of him.

          “Please be more careful with your wand Mr. Malfoy. Was that all you needed?” Draco nodded and pocketed his wand, making his way back to the castle. Again, no one noticed him, the pain he was in, the hopelessness he felt, now that his parents were here once again.

Draco-Present (two months later, Draco currently still in hospital)

          Tears streamed down his eyes, the flashes of the past churning in his mind and soul. He was an invisible waste of space, just like his parents claimed. It took him bleeding out in a castle hall for anyone to see him. But it was just too late; the hope he had buried deep inside his soul had burned out, lost in a sea of pain.

          His parents had finally won, bleakness was his present and future now. However long that future was, anyway.

Sorry for the long absence!! Ive been really sick, and have had no energy to continue it. but I'm happy to have this chapter up, and made it long and full of info so you can understand what Draco's life has been like since childhood. If anyone is confused or wants to comment, please REVIEW!! :) Hopefully another chapter is up and running soon!

Hope you love the Chap!! Till next time! :)
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Malfoy's Hidden Pain