(no subject)
Title: Mercy
Author: Spellwinder
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Character death, graphic description of violence
Disclaimer: Just borrowed them, honest!
Beta: 888
Dedication: This one is for mia_chan. I do hope you like it. It was particularly difficult ^^'
I hung from the dungeon's low ceiling.
It was cold down here, I knew that, but I had stopped feeling the chill a long time ago.
What I felt instead was pain.
In the beginning I had been able to distinguish the different kinds of pain - burning, cutting, ripping… ; I had been able to distinguish the hurting parts of my body - legs, arms, face, stomach, eyes, so many, so many….
Now my perception had changed. I was not aware of having legs or arms or even a head. I felt like a unique formless hurting and staining and burning mass of flesh.
Lucius Malfoy’s cruelty was endless, since a potion circumvented me from losing consciousness.
I wondered how long it would take me to go insane…. Minutes? Seconds?
How much more could I stand?
I had lost my voice from screaming and there was the irony taste of blood in my mouth - you are still able to distinguish different tastes? - I had bitten my tongue and lips several times, and I had a blurred memory of someone ripping a tooth out of my jaw-bone, too.
I wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep forever - never wake up again, never again… - but the deatheaters wouldn’t let me.
A sound, there was a sound outside the dungeon. Was it footsteps? I could not concentrate long enough on the question to find an answer, but my instinct told me, that it was not over yet.
They’re coming back. They are coming for you….
Small red drops sprayed from my mouth as I started to scream. It was an inhuman sound that came from my tortured vocal chords. What the walls echoed back to me seemed to be no sound any living beast would be able to exhale.
The scream was endless. It lasted an eternity. Then it died, and with it a piece of my soul died.
My head fell to my chest with a soft sticky sound, and my eyes saw what in my memories were feet. Only now they did not look like feet. Not any more.
But they were feet, once. Covered with white skin. Beautiful feet have they been….
Blood dropped into a growing puddle under the feet.
Your blood. You are dying, Draco.
Draco. Was that my name then? I did not remember…. Was I dying? What a wonderful thought. Never to wake up again.
Still there were sounds outside the dungeon.
For you! They are coming for you, and they will continue playing with you. Do you want to play, Draco?
My mouth opened again, blood sprayed, but no sound came with the air that left my lungs. Something was broken. One more thing.
Cramps and shivers made my body dance in its bonds, the stones from the wall behind me dug deep into wounds, catenae cut into my arms, and I twitched and winced like a marionette on invisible strings.
But who is the puppeteer? Is it Lucius? Has he not been your puppeteer for your whole life?
I wished I was able to stop that little voice in my head....
The door slammed open. Smoke and flames came in through its frames, and out of this stepped Harry Potter.
I recognized him at once, although I had trouble to remember who I was.
You would never forget his face. Never.
Discomposed pictures flooded my mind. Pictures of Harry Potter and me; pictures of secret meetings; pictures of touches, of soft kisses, skin against skin, whispered words of love….
Do you love him, Harry? Do you really love him?
How many times had he said he loved me?
My mouth contorted into what once would have been a charming smile, my smile, and I saw Harry’s face go grey like ashes.
He was still standing in the doorway, but he had started to tremble violently.
He opened his mouth, it seemed he wanted to say something, but I could hear nothing.
His lips trembled and moved without emitting any sound, and he looked like he was about to loose consciousness. How much I envied him.
Then I heard it. One whispered word.
“Draco?”
I wanted to respond, but all I was able to produce was a gurgling sound. Yes, I remembered. I had screamed before, and something was broken now.
Harry’s body contorted and cramped down and he vomited violently.
I’m sorry, Harry. I did not want you to get sick. This is my fault. I’m sorry.
Harry was on all fours, trembling and watching his vomit. It seemed he had not the courage to watch me.
Am I so ugly, Harry? I remember times when you could not turn your eyes from me.
Eventually he rose, still avoiding watching me. He turned towards me, his gaze fixed on the ground.
I saw his look wander to the puddle under me; I saw how it rose to my feet, wandered over my body and up to my face.
Is that hope in your eyes, Harry?
Then his eyes found mine, and for a short moment I forgot all my pain and dived into the emerald depths of his eyes. He cried.
He had recognized me, and all the hope in his eyes was gone. Small choking and sobbing sounds came from his throat, and I understood he was trying not to vomit again.
“Draco… what have they done to you?”
He reached out his hand and touched my head, stroked me gently. How I wished to be able to feel this well known touch, his touch, this way he touched only me and no other person in the world. But I felt nothing, not even when I leant into it.
When he wanted to break the touch and he pulled back his hand I saw that long ruby strands of once silvery hair stuck to it.
He freed his hand with a loud series of sobs.
He took out his wand and rid me of my bonds. He caught me when I fell, and once again there was this sticky noise when my naked body fell into his arms.
Harry Potter, my saviour. There was no irony in this thought.
He sank to his knees and held me in his arms, and despite the fact that his touches did nothing but to remind me of my pain I was happy.
Harry had come to save me.
Do you love him, Harry? Do you really love him?
Save me, Harry…!
Prove it. Have mercy.
“Draco, I love you.”
He raises his wand, and when green light surrounds me and cancels my pain and I feel near the eternal sleep I had prayed for in so many hours of agony, all I am aware of is my endless love for him, and my last thought is:
Thank you.
Author: Spellwinder
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Character death, graphic description of violence
Disclaimer: Just borrowed them, honest!
Beta: 888
Dedication: This one is for mia_chan. I do hope you like it. It was particularly difficult ^^'
I hung from the dungeon's low ceiling.
It was cold down here, I knew that, but I had stopped feeling the chill a long time ago.
What I felt instead was pain.
In the beginning I had been able to distinguish the different kinds of pain - burning, cutting, ripping… ; I had been able to distinguish the hurting parts of my body - legs, arms, face, stomach, eyes, so many, so many….
Now my perception had changed. I was not aware of having legs or arms or even a head. I felt like a unique formless hurting and staining and burning mass of flesh.
Lucius Malfoy’s cruelty was endless, since a potion circumvented me from losing consciousness.
I wondered how long it would take me to go insane…. Minutes? Seconds?
How much more could I stand?
I had lost my voice from screaming and there was the irony taste of blood in my mouth - you are still able to distinguish different tastes? - I had bitten my tongue and lips several times, and I had a blurred memory of someone ripping a tooth out of my jaw-bone, too.
I wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep forever - never wake up again, never again… - but the deatheaters wouldn’t let me.
A sound, there was a sound outside the dungeon. Was it footsteps? I could not concentrate long enough on the question to find an answer, but my instinct told me, that it was not over yet.
They’re coming back. They are coming for you….
Small red drops sprayed from my mouth as I started to scream. It was an inhuman sound that came from my tortured vocal chords. What the walls echoed back to me seemed to be no sound any living beast would be able to exhale.
The scream was endless. It lasted an eternity. Then it died, and with it a piece of my soul died.
My head fell to my chest with a soft sticky sound, and my eyes saw what in my memories were feet. Only now they did not look like feet. Not any more.
But they were feet, once. Covered with white skin. Beautiful feet have they been….
Blood dropped into a growing puddle under the feet.
Your blood. You are dying, Draco.
Draco. Was that my name then? I did not remember…. Was I dying? What a wonderful thought. Never to wake up again.
Still there were sounds outside the dungeon.
For you! They are coming for you, and they will continue playing with you. Do you want to play, Draco?
My mouth opened again, blood sprayed, but no sound came with the air that left my lungs. Something was broken. One more thing.
Cramps and shivers made my body dance in its bonds, the stones from the wall behind me dug deep into wounds, catenae cut into my arms, and I twitched and winced like a marionette on invisible strings.
But who is the puppeteer? Is it Lucius? Has he not been your puppeteer for your whole life?
I wished I was able to stop that little voice in my head....
The door slammed open. Smoke and flames came in through its frames, and out of this stepped Harry Potter.
I recognized him at once, although I had trouble to remember who I was.
You would never forget his face. Never.
Discomposed pictures flooded my mind. Pictures of Harry Potter and me; pictures of secret meetings; pictures of touches, of soft kisses, skin against skin, whispered words of love….
Do you love him, Harry? Do you really love him?
How many times had he said he loved me?
My mouth contorted into what once would have been a charming smile, my smile, and I saw Harry’s face go grey like ashes.
He was still standing in the doorway, but he had started to tremble violently.
He opened his mouth, it seemed he wanted to say something, but I could hear nothing.
His lips trembled and moved without emitting any sound, and he looked like he was about to loose consciousness. How much I envied him.
Then I heard it. One whispered word.
“Draco?”
I wanted to respond, but all I was able to produce was a gurgling sound. Yes, I remembered. I had screamed before, and something was broken now.
Harry’s body contorted and cramped down and he vomited violently.
I’m sorry, Harry. I did not want you to get sick. This is my fault. I’m sorry.
Harry was on all fours, trembling and watching his vomit. It seemed he had not the courage to watch me.
Am I so ugly, Harry? I remember times when you could not turn your eyes from me.
Eventually he rose, still avoiding watching me. He turned towards me, his gaze fixed on the ground.
I saw his look wander to the puddle under me; I saw how it rose to my feet, wandered over my body and up to my face.
Is that hope in your eyes, Harry?
Then his eyes found mine, and for a short moment I forgot all my pain and dived into the emerald depths of his eyes. He cried.
He had recognized me, and all the hope in his eyes was gone. Small choking and sobbing sounds came from his throat, and I understood he was trying not to vomit again.
“Draco… what have they done to you?”
He reached out his hand and touched my head, stroked me gently. How I wished to be able to feel this well known touch, his touch, this way he touched only me and no other person in the world. But I felt nothing, not even when I leant into it.
When he wanted to break the touch and he pulled back his hand I saw that long ruby strands of once silvery hair stuck to it.
He freed his hand with a loud series of sobs.
He took out his wand and rid me of my bonds. He caught me when I fell, and once again there was this sticky noise when my naked body fell into his arms.
Harry Potter, my saviour. There was no irony in this thought.
He sank to his knees and held me in his arms, and despite the fact that his touches did nothing but to remind me of my pain I was happy.
Harry had come to save me.
Do you love him, Harry? Do you really love him?
Save me, Harry…!
Prove it. Have mercy.
“Draco, I love you.”
He raises his wand, and when green light surrounds me and cancels my pain and I feel near the eternal sleep I had prayed for in so many hours of agony, all I am aware of is my endless love for him, and my last thought is:
Thank you.