Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Draco felt weak and faint as he learned of Harry Potter's death. He'd been "dead" before and so Draco expected the Gryffindor to jump up and kill the Dark Lord, but he didn't move, and because the Dark Lord wanted to be certain Potter was dead, he had Fenrir Greyback feast on Draco's old nemesis. The grotesque scene turned his blood into ice as he stared at Fenrir, it was impossible to look away, and by the time he closed his eyes the image was branded forever in his brain.  

Draco was gripped by a suffocating dread, uncertain of what horrors awaited him next. He felt an invisible force wrenching him from the chaotic scene, his mind a fog of numbness. He was dragged home, his feet barely able to hold his eight up. Upon reaching the sanctuary of his room, his body surrendered, collapsing onto the bed like a broken puppet whose strings had been cut, leaving him to curl into a fetal position. As he lay there, the room's shadows seemed to cover him, reminding him of the danger ahead. The fear of an unknown and dark future weighed on him, crushing any hope he tried to hold onto.  

He didn't know when he fell asleep, drowning in the sea of despair, but he was awakened by his mother shaking him back into the new twisted world.  

"Pack a bag, quickly," she urged as she opened his dresser and pulled out clothes.  

"Where are we going?" Draco asked, his voice trembling as the images of Harry haunted him again.  

"Away from here," Narcissa said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We don't have much time. Take only what you need."  

Draco hesitated, watching his mother frantically stuff his clothes into a bag. "What about Father? Where is he?"  

Narcissa paused, her pale face tightening with emotion. "Your father... We need to worry about you first. Please, Draco. Trust me."  

Something in her voice made him move. He grabbed his wand and helped her pack, throwing in a few personal items.  

"Mother, what's happening?" he whispered, closing the bag.  

"The Dark Lord..." she hesitated, glancing nervously at the door. "He's displeased with our family. With your father's failures, and now with us. He knows you didn't complete your order. We must leave now."  

Draco felt his heart hammering against his ribcage. "But Father-"  

"Your father made his choice," Narcissa said firmly, though her voice cracked with pain.  

With trembling hands, Draco slung the bag over his shoulder. His mother gripped his arm tightly and led him through the darkened house.  

"The eastern gardens," she whispered. "Beyond the wards, we can Disapparate."  

They slipped through the kitchen and out the servant's entrance, their footsteps quiet against the damp grass. The night air full of dread as they hurried across the grounds, staying close to the hedges for cover.  

"Just a bit further," Narcissa whispered, her grip on Draco's arm painfully tight. "Past that stone wall and we'll be-"  

A jet of red light shot past Draco's ear. Before he could react, another spell hit him in the back, binding his arms to his sides. He toppled forward, hitting the ground hard as his legs gave out beneath him. He heard his mother cry out, her spell cut short as she too was immobilized.  

"Going somewhere, sister?" The familiar mocking voice of Bellatrix Lestrange cut through the darkness.  

Bellatrix appeared from the shadows, her wild hair illuminated by wand light, eyes gleaming with fury. Behind her stood two masked Death Eaters, their wands aimed at them.  

"Bella," Narcissa gasped, struggling against invisible bonds. "Please..."  

"Please?" Bellatrix mocked, her face contorting with rage. "Please what, Cissy? Please help you betray our Lord? Please aid you in your pathetic escape?" She circled around them like a predator, her wand twirling in her hand.  

Draco struggled against his magical restraints, his eyes darting between his mother and his aunt. "Let us go!" he demanded, though his voice betrayed his fear.  

Bellatrix's laugh was high and cruel. " Ah, poor nephew, how amusing it is that you think you have any power over me." She knelt beside him, her face inches from his. "Your father is dead, Draco. The Dark Lord killed him himself." She traced her wand along his jawline, smiling as he flinched. "Such a disappointment to the cause."  

"No," Draco choked, tears welling in his eyes. "You're lying."  

"Lucius failed once too often," Bellatrix hissed. "The Dark Lord has no use for failures."  

Narcissa sobbed quietly, her face pressed against the damp earth. "Bella, he's your nephew. Please, he's just a boy."  

Bellatrix grabbed a fistful of Narcissa's hair, yanking her head back. "A boy who failed to kill Dumbledore. A boy whose family has fallen from the Dark Lord's grace." Her eyes narrowed. "And you… you would run like cowards?"  

"He doesn't care what happens to us," Narcissa whispered, tears streaming down her face. "You know this, Bella."  

"Silence!" Bellatrix released her sister's hair with a violent shove before she paced around them, her wand twitching between her fingers. She stopped suddenly, her expression shifting from rage to a calmer tone, which did nothing to help Draco with his anxiety for what she had planned next.  

"The Dark Lord has given me permission to deal with you as I see fit," she said, her voice lower. "He cares nothing for either of you anymore. The Malfoy name is mud to him."  

Draco felt his world collapsing. His father dead. His family disgraced. Tears streamed down his face as he lay helpless on the ground.  

"But I still care," Bellatrix continued, surprising them both. "You're my blood, my sister, my nephew." Her wand lowered slightly. "I pleaded your case to the Dark Lord."  

Narcissa's eyes widened with desperate hope. "You have?"  

"Don't look so surprised, Cissy," Bellatrix snapped, though her voice lacked its usual venom. "I convinced him to spare your lives, though he cares nothing for what becomes of you now."  

Draco's mind raced as he knew it could be another of his aunt's cruel games. "Why would you help us?"  

Bellatrix crouched beside him, her dark eyes gleaming with something that made Draco's skin crawl.  

"Because I can use you, dear nephew," she whispered, caressing his cheek with the tip of her wand. "The Dark Lord has washed his hands of the Malfoys, that means I can do whatever I want with you both."  

She stood abruptly, flicking her wand to release their bonds. Draco scrambled to his feet, helping his mother up while keeping a wary eye on his aunt.  

"Here's how this will work," Bellatrix said, pacing in front of them, her boots crushing the damp grass beneath before turning her attention towards Draco. "You both want to live. And you, dear nephew, want your precious mother to survive?" Her lips curled into a cruel smile. "Then you'll have to make a sacrifice."  

Draco swallowed hard, standing protectively in front of Narcissa. "What kind of sacrifice?"  

Bellatrix's eyes glittered in the moonlight. "The Dark Lord may have no use for you, but I still see... potential. I've been thinking about how to secure our family's position, even with your father's disgrace hanging over us." She tapped her wand against her palm thoughtfully. "And I've found the perfect solution."  

Draco's throat went dry, he felt the urge to ask even though he feared the answer. "What solution?"  

"Marriage," Bellatrix announced with a twisted smile. "A binding magical contract that will place you under the protection of someone the Dark Lord still favours."

Narcissa gasped. "Bella, you can't possibly-"  

"Silence!" Bellatrix hissed. "This is the only way. Draco will marry into a family I trust, one that remains in good standing. He'll be safe, and so will you, Cissy."  

Draco felt as if the ground had disappeared beneath his feet. "Marriage? To whom?"  

Bellatrix's smile widened, revealing her rotting teeth. "Rabastan Lestrange."  

The name hit Draco like a physical blow. Rabastan Lestrange, his aunt's brother-in-law, technically his uncle, a man nearly three times his age, known for his cruelty even among Death Eaters.  

"No," Narcissa whispered, her face ashen. "Bella, you can't mean-"  

"I mean exactly that," Bellatrix snapped, grabbing Draco's chin and forcing him to look at her. "Rabastan has always been loyal. He's powerful, respected, and most importantly, he's willing to take you as his husband."  

Draco felt digest rising in his throat. "I won't-"  

"You will," Bellatrix snarled, digging her nails into his skin. "Unless you'd prefer to watch your mother suffer before she dies? I can arrange that too."  

Narcissa let out a strangled sob. "Please, Bellatrix, don't do this to him."  

"Silence!" Bellatrix hissed again, pointing her wand at her sister's throat. "This is mercy, Cissy. The Dark Lord gave me permission to do whatever I wanted with you both. I could have tortured you for days before killing you slowly." Her eyes gleamed with a hint of madness. "Instead, I'm offering salvation."  

Draco felt his legs trembling beneath him. Rabastan Lestrange. The man was a monster, he barely knew him as he'd been locked up in Azkaban most of Draco's life, but the little he saw of him after was enough for Draco to fear for his life.  

"I'd rather die," Draco whispered, though his voice lacked conviction.  

"That can be arranged," Bellatrix said softly, twirling her wand between her fingers. "But your mother would die first. Slowly. Painfully. Is that what you want?"  

Draco looked at his mother, tears streaming down her face. He thought of his father, already dead. The Malfoy legacy reduced to a terrified mother and a son with no choices left.  

"When?" he asked, his voice hollow.  

"Tomorrow night," Bellatrix answered with a cruel smile. "The Dark Lord has approved a small ceremony in the east wing. Nothing too elaborate, we're still at war, after all."  

Draco felt the world spinning around him. One day. He had one day before being bound for life to a man who had tortured and killed countless people, a man whose very presence made his skin crawl.  

Draco looked at his mother, her eyes wide with fear and sorrow. He thought of Potter, devoured by Greyback. Of his father, executed for failure. There was no escape, no heroic rescue coming. The world he knew had ended the moment the Dark Lord won.  

Bellatrix turned to the masked Death Eaters who remained silent throughout the exchange. "Take them back to the manor. Lock them in their rooms. I want guards always posted outside their doors. They will be confined to their chambers until the ceremony."  

The Death Eaters nodded, one grabbing Draco roughly by the arm. "Come along, then."  

Narcissa reached for her son, but was pulled away by the second guard. "Draco!" she cried out, struggling against her captor.  

"Mother!" Draco called back, watching helplessly as she was dragged in the opposite direction.  

Back in his room, Draco sank onto his bed, numb with shock and grief. The guard locked his door with a heavy thud, followed by the murmur of protective enchantments. He was trapped, a prisoner in what had once been his sanctuary.  

Panic clawed at his chest as the reality of his situation sank in. Tomorrow night he would be bound to Rabastan Lestrange, a fate probably worse than death.  

Draco leapt from the bed as he decided he couldn't just give up like that. Frantically searching his room, he looked for any way out, some overlooked weakness in the wards. He tried the windows first, but they were sealed with magic far stronger than any unlocking charm he knew. The fireplace was disconnected from the Floo network. His eyes darted frantically around the room until they landed on his desk, he knew he had parchment paper and a quill. A desperate plan formed in his mind.  

Theo Nott. His friend's father was a Death Eater, but Theo himself had always kept to the periphery. If anyone could help him it might be Theo.  

With trembling hands, Draco pulled out a sheet of parchment and began to write.  

-  

Theo  

I'm in grave danger. My aunt has arranged for me to marry Rabastan Lestrange tomorrow night. I need your help. Please, if you can do anything  

-  

The door swung open without warning. Draco's head snapped up, his heart leaping into his throat as Rabastan Lestrange himself stepped into the room. In one fluid motion, Draco crumpled the letter in his fist, shoving it beneath his thigh as he spun around to face the intruder.  

"My future husband," Rabastan drawled, leaning against the doorframe with a twisted smile. His eyes, dark and predatory, swept over Draco's form. "Aren't you going to greet me properly?"  

Draco forced himself to breathe, acutely aware of the crumpled parchment beneath his leg. "I wasn't expecting visitors," he apologised.  

Rabastan's smile seemed to twist even more. "No? Perhaps you were too busy... writing?" He pushed away from the doorframe and stalked toward Draco with deliberate slowness.  

"I was just-" Draco began, but Rabastan moved with unexpected speed, gripping Draco's wrist and yanking him up from the chair.  

The half-written letter stuck to the chair, and before he could react, Rabastan snatched it with his free hand. Still maintaining his iron grip on Draco's wrist, he opened the crumpled parchment with his thumb and forefinger, his eyes scanning the desperate plea.  

"My, my," Rabastan said, his voice deceptively soft. "Reaching out to young Nott, are we? How... predictable." His expression darkened as he crushed the parchment in his fist.  

Draco struggled against his hold, but Rabastan tightened his grip until Draco winced in pain.  

"I expected better from you, Draco," he continued. "I thought you understood the arrangement we have. The protection I'm offering you."  

"Protection?" Draco spat, his fear momentarily giving way to anger. "This isn't protection. This is-"  

Draco's breath caught in his throat as Rabastan leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing Draco's ear.  

"Let me make something perfectly clear," Rabastan said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he crumpled the parchment in his fist. "If you somehow manage to slip away, if by some miracle you escape these walls, your mother will bear the consequences of your cowardice."  

His fingers tightened around Draco's wrist until Draco moaned in pain. "Is that what you want, Draco? To flee while she suffers? I can arrange that, you know." A cruel smile twisted his lips. "I can escort you to the gates myself if that's your choice."  

Draco felt the blood drain from his face as he realised what Rabastan was offering. "No… I didn't-"  

"Didn't what? Didn't think? Didn't consider what would happen to dear Narcissa if you abandoned her?" Rabastan released Draco's wrist suddenly, shoving him backward. Draco stumbled, catching himself against the desk as Rabastan held up the crumpled parchment between two fingers like something filthy.  

"Such a waste of effort," Rabastan said, his voice dangerously soft. "Your little friend Nott couldn't help you even if he wanted to. His father made sure of that."  

A chill ran through Draco's body. "What do you mean? What happened to Theo?"  

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Rabastan answered smilingly. He flicked his wand, and the parchment burst into flames, crumbling to ash that scattered across the polished floor. "Now, will you be a good boy and obey?"  

"Yes," Draco answered, knowing he had no option besides accepting his fate, not if he wanted his mother to be safe.  

Rabastan's eyes gleamed with triumph. "That's a good boy," he purred, his hand sliding from Draco's face to grip the back of his neck. "I knew you'd see reason eventually."  

Draco stood rigid, fighting the urge to shrink away from the touch. "Just... don't hurt her."  

"Oh, Draco," Rabastan said, his voice softening into something almost tender, which somehow made it even more terrifying. "I won't hurt anyone, not as long as you obey. This arrangement can be quite pleasant for both of us, if you let it be." Rabastan's fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down Draco's spine. "Your fate is entirely in your own hands. Behave like the obedient little pureblood you were raised to be, and your life with me will be comfortable. Perhaps even luxurious."  

Draco fought to keep his expression neutral, though revulsion churned in his stomach. "I understand," he said stiffly. "I'll behave."  

"Excellent." Rabastan's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "I knew you'd be reasonable." His fingers traced Draco's jawline possessively. "You'll find I can be quite generous to those who please me." He leaned closer, his breath hot against Draco's ear. "All you need to do is be a good little wife, and your life will be… comfortable."  

"I'll be whatever you need me to be," Draco said mechanically, his voice hollow. "Just keep my mother safe."  

"Do you promise?" Rabastan questioned as he let his fingers run down Draco's jaw. Draco trembled at his touch but nodded in response.  

Rabastan's lips curled into a predatory smile as his fingers tightened in Draco's hair. "Why don't you show me I can count on you behaving?" His eyes dropped to Draco's mouth. "A small token of your commitment. A kiss, perhaps?"  

Draco felt his stomach twist with disgust. The thought of Rabastan's lips on his made him want to retch, but his mother's face flashed before his eyes, terrified, helpless.  

"Just a kiss?" Draco asked, hating how small his voice sounded.  

"For now," Rabastan teased, his thumb brushing across Draco's lower lip. "Consider it a... preview of our wedding night."  

The words sent ice through Draco's veins, but he forced himself to nod. There was no escape, no rescue coming. This was the price of survival.  

"Yes," he whispered, closing his eyes to brace himself.  

Rabastan's grip on his hair tightened painfully as he pulled Draco forward. Their lips met, and Draco fought the instinct to pull away as Rabastan's mouth pressed against his. It was possessive, demanding, the older man tasted of firewhisky. Draco remained perfectly still, enduring the violation until Rabastan finally pulled back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.  

"See? That wasn't so difficult," Rabastan murmured, stroking Draco's cheek with mock tenderness. "Tomorrow, you'll become mine officially." He released his grip on Draco's hair, smoothing it back with an unsettling gentleness. "I suggest you rest well tonight. Tomorrow will be… eventful."  

Draco remained frozen, his lips burning with shame as Rabastan stepped back, looking at him like a prized possession.  

"I'll leave you to your thoughts," Rabastan said, moving toward the door. "And Draco?" He paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Don't disappoint me again. Next time, I won't be so forgiving."  

The door closed with a soft click, followed by the sound of locking spells being reapplied. Only then did Draco allow himself to crumple to the floor, wiping frantically at his mouth as silent tears streamed down his face. In the quiet darkness of his childhood bedroom, now his prison, the reality of his future settled over him.  

The next day he would be married to a monster. A Death Eater who had tortured and killed without remorse, who now looked at him with hungry eyes that promised nothing good. And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing except endure.  

Draco wrapped his arms around himself, shivering despite the warmth of the room. The taste of Rabastan still lingered on his lips, and he fought the urge to be sick. He thought of his father, dead because of the Dark Lord's displeasure. Of his mother, who would suffer if he tried to run.  

There would be no escape from his nightmare. Not for him. Not anymore.  

As darkness fell completely outside his window, Draco Malfoy closed his eyes and tried not to think about what the next day would bring as he crawled into bed, hoping to wake up and realise it was all a bad dream.  

Chapter Text

Morning arrived too quickly. Draco had barely slept, his mind cycling through desperate plans which he knew wouldn't work. A soft knock at his door announced his mother's arrival, on each side of her stood two guards.  

"Draco," she whispered, embracing him tightly. Her eyes were red from crying, but her hands were steady as she released him. "They've allowed me to help you prepare."  

One of the guards handed her a bag and Narcissa withdrew formal robes of deepest black, embroidered with silver thread, a traditional wedding attire for a pureblood heir. The sight made Draco's stomach lurch as he knew his father had worn it at his wedding. He and Narcissa shared a saddened knowing look.  

"Stand up straight," she instructed softly, helping him into the outfit. Draco caught sight of himself in the mirror, he looked pale in the outfit he knew was used for celebrations, though now it would be used for a sacrifice.  

"Why bother?" he asked bitterly, watching his reflection as his mother smoothed the fabric across his shoulders. "Why make me look presentable for a monster? He'll tear these robes off tonight anyway."  

Narcissa's hands stilled momentarily before continuing their work. Her eyes met his in the mirror and he was surprised by the lack of surrender in her eyes.  

"Because you are a Malfoy," she said quietly, her voice gaining strength with each word. "And a Malfoy presents themselves with dignity, even when walking to their execution." She adjusted his collar. "Especially then."  

"I don't see the point of looking proper for a wedding that's really just a death sentence?" Draco whispered, watching his reflection as his mother meticulously adjusted the silver clasps on his formal robes.  

Narcissa's hands paused momentarily before continuing. "Because appearances matter, Draco. Especially now." She met his gaze in the mirror, her blue eyes hard as diamonds. "A Malfoy will always be elegant, no matter the situation. It's not just about looks, it's also about showing no matter what they take, they will never take you down."  

"What do I have left?" he asked in a defeated voice. 

"Your dignity," she replied firmly, turning him to face her. "They force this marriage upon you, they can take our home, they can even…" her voice faltered slightly "…even kill your father," she finished, her voice barely audible. "But they cannot take who you are inside unless you surrender it willingly."  

Draco's eyes filled with tears. "What's the point, I'm a coward who couldn't even kill one person, who is now being sacrificed to a sadist."  

Narcissa gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into the expensive fabric. "You are my son," she whispered fiercely. "You are Draco Malfoy. And you will survive this."  

"How?" he asked, his voice breaking. "How do I survive being his... his..."  

"By remembering that this isn't forever," she said, lowering her voice even further and glancing nervously at the door. "Nothing is forever, Draco. Not even the Dark Lord's reign."  

Draco stared at her, shocked at her words.  

"Mother," he breathed, his eyes widening as his eyes darted towards the guarded door.  

She pressed a finger to his lips, her eyes intense, full of secrets. "Listen to me carefully. This marriage will happen today. You cannot stop it. But afterwards…" She took a deep breath. "We survive, and we watch for opportunities. I will never stop trying to get you away from here," she whispered, cupping his face in her hands. "Never. But first, we must live through this. Can you do that, Draco? Can you endure what's coming while we wait for our chance?"  

Tears ran down his cheeks as he nodded. "Yes."  

Narcissa pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly against her chest. "My brave boy," she whispered against his hair. "We will find a way out of this nightmare. I promise you."  

"What if there isn't one?" Draco whispered against her shoulder.  

Narcissa pulled back, her eyes fierce despite the tears. "Then we make one. Your father and I taught you to survive, Draco. To adapt. Use everything he taught you. Your father might be gone, but what he taught you remains." She straightened his collar. "Lucius taught you to recognise opportunities, to use people's weaknesses against them. Rabastan is cruel, but he's also vain. Arrogant. Those traits can be exploited."  

Draco's eyes widened with understanding. He'd knew how manipulation could work, he'd even used it himself in school, but the thought hadn't crossed his mind as he thought of his wedding.  

"Use his desires against him," Narcissa continued, her voice barely audible. "Make him believe you're adapting to your role. The moment he trusts you, even slightly, that's when opportunities will appear."  

"And then what?" Draco asked. "If we run, they'll hunt us down."  

"One step at a time," she replied. "First, we survive. Then we plan. Then we escape." Her eyes burned with determination. "But we must be patient. Hasty action will only get us killed."  

Draco stopped breathing for a brief moment as he knew she was right. "Together," he whispered. "We do this together."  

"Always," Narcissa promised, pressing her forehead against his. "I won't leave you behind. We escape together or not at all."  

A knock at the door made them both stiffen. Narcissa quickly composed herself, wiping her eyes before calling out, "A moment, please."  

"They're coming," Draco whispered, panic rising in his chest.  

Narcissa gripped his hands tightly, her blue eyes focused on his. "Listen to me. Whatever happens tonight, whatever he does to you, remember this isn't the end. It's just the beginning of our fight." Her voice cracked slightly. "We will play our parts perfectly. Survive first, escape later."  

"I'm scared mommy," Draco admitted, hating how childish he sounded.  

"So am I," Narcissa confessed, brushing his hair back from his forehead with trembling fingers.  

The knock came again, more insistent. "It's time," a gruff voice called through the door.  

The guards entered without waiting for permission, their wands drawn. "The ceremony begins in ten minutes," one announced. "Come with us."  

Narcissa squeezed Draco's hand one last time before releasing it. As they were escorted through the corridors of what used to be Draco's childhood home, Draco forced himself to breathe.  

They descended the grand staircase. When the doors to the ballroom swung open, Draco felt his breath catch in his throat. The familiar space had been transformed. Black roses and silver ribbons on every surface. Floating candles cast an eerie glow over the guests.  

"Do you like it?" Bellatrix asked, her eyes gleaming with twisted delight. "I arranged everything myself." She gestured proudly at the decorations. "Even though the wedding is rushed, I still wanted it to be a proper wedding," she continued, her voice excited as she gripped Draco's arm painfully. "After all, a Malfoy deserves only the best." Her laughter echoed through the hall, the closest Death Eaters smiled, if because of her comment Draco didn't know.  

Draco's mind struggled to process everything through the fog. He recognised some guests who watched him with degrees of amusement and contempt.  

"Look at the detail," Bellatrix insisted, yanking him toward an archway with thorny black vines as a band played the wedding march.  

Draco barely registered her words as his eyes fixed on the figure waiting at the far end of the room. Rabastan Lestrange stood beneath an arch, dressed in formal black robes that seemed to absorb what little light remained in the room. His dark eyes found Draco's, his lips curling into a possessive smile which sent ice through Draco's veins.  

"Come, nephew," Bellatrix urged, her nails digging into his arm as she pulled him forward. "Your groom awaits."  

Draco felt his feet moving automatically, his body responding even as his mind screamed for escape. He was vaguely aware of his mother being directed to stand to one side, her face cold and calculating, looking around the room as if she was searching for an escape route.  

"Isn't it magnificent?" Bellatrix whispered, her breath hot against his ear as she guided him forward. "The finest wedding Malfoy Manor has ever seen. I spent hours perfecting every detail."  

As Bellatrix yanked him forward toward Rabastan, the stress made his vision blur while he struggled to maintain his composure. He forced himself to focus, to observe the details of his surroundings like his mother told him. Knowledge was power he reminded himself.  

"Breathe, nephew," Bellatrix hissed in his ear, her nails digging into his arm. "You're making a scene."  

Draco forced air into his lungs, fighting against the tightness in his chest. The room seemed to spin around him as Bellatrix guided him forward, past rows of Death Eaters whose attention was on him. His feet moved mechanically across the marble floor until they reached the altar where Rabastan waited, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph.  

"Welcome, my bride," Rabastan murmured, extending a hand adorned with silver rings.  

Draco stared at the hand, unable to move. The realisation of what was happening crashed over him like a wave.  

"Take his hand," Bellatrix hissed, shoving Draco forward. His legs moved of their own accord, his hand rising to meet Rabastan's as if someone was controlling him. It all felt unreal, like a fever dream from which he couldn't awaken.  

'This isn't happening,’ Draco thought to himself as Rabastan's cold fingers closed around his. 'This can't be real.'  

But the grip tightening around his hand was undeniably solid. Rabastan pulled him closer, close enough that Draco could smell the firewhisky on his breath and could see the hunger in his dark eyes.  

"You look beautiful in black," Rabastan whispered, his thumb stroking the inside of Draco's wrist. "A proper pureblood bride."  

The world seemed to blur. He felt disconnected from his body, watching himself as Rabastan led him to stand before the altar.  

A hooded figure stepped forward to officiate, and Draco recognized Dolohov's voice beginning the ancient binding ceremony.  

Draco's mind drifted further from reality as the ceremony progressed. The voices around him sounded distant and distorted, as though he were underwater.  

The cold metal of the ceremonial knife brought him back to reality as Rabastan pressed it into his palm, waking him up just enough to panic.  

Then everyone in the room went quiet as the sea of black robes parted. When Draco saw who slowly walked towards him it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold ice on him as his eyes locked with those of the Dark Lord himself. His mouth curved in what might have been a smile, his red eyes gleaming in the candlelight as he slowly closed the distance. Draco's heart hammered against his ribs.  

"My Lord," Rabastan murmured, bowing deeply. "You honour us with your presence."  

Voldemort's gaze swept over the ceremony, his expression unreadable as his eyes settled on Draco. "I find myself disappointed," Voldemort said. "I expected more... enthusiasm from the Malfoy heir on his wedding day," he mocked.  

Draco stood frozen as the guests laughed at the Dark Lord's comment. The Dark Lord's red eyes burned into him, almost as if he was trying to read his mind. Rabastan's cold grip brought him back for a moment, having a calming effect as well.  

"My Lord," Bellatrix simpered, rushing forward to bow at Voldemort's feet. "We are honoured by your presence. The ceremony was just beginning."  

"So I see," Voldemort replied, his gaze sliding from Draco to the dark surroundings. Voldemort's scarlet eyes narrowed as he approached, skeletal fingers extending toward Draco's face. The touch was ice-cold against his cheek, pulling him back to his body with horrifying clarity.  

Draco swayed on his feet, reality slipping in and out of focus. The ceremony, the Death Eaters watching with cruel amusement, and Rabastan's possessive grip on his hand, all felt like some grotesque hallucination. Voldemort's lipless mouth curved back into the twisted smile the man often had. His red eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as he gave one final order. "Continue the ceremony. I wish to see it completed."  

Dolohov, who had frozen at Voldemort's interruption, hastily resumed the binding ritual, making them connect their hands, blood having pooled in their palms as the Dark Lord interrupted the ceremony. Draco felt the magic swirling around him and Rabastan, words that would seal his fate. When commanded, he mechanically repeated the vows, his voice hollow and distant. Then with a flick of his wand, Dolohov wrapped the ceremonial cord around their joined hands. Glowing silver before sinking into their skin, leaving behind an intricate pattern that marked Draco as bound.  

"It is done," Dolohov declared, bowing deeply to Voldemort. "They are now joined in magical matrimony."  

A smattering of applause broke out among the Death Eaters as Rabastan raised their joined hands in triumph. Draco stared blankly, his mind still refusing to accept what had just happened. That he was now bound to Rabastan Lestrange until death. The realization was too enormous, too horrific to fully comprehend. Instead, his consciousness retreated further, observing events as if he was a guest.  

The ballroom transformed around him, food and drinks appearing on the tables as Death Eaters celebrated the union. Rabastan pulled Draco towards their seat before he grabbed a glass of the celebration drink. Death Eaters came up to their table and congratulated Rabastan, clapping him on the back and making crude jokes about the wedding night to come. Draco sat silently beside his new husband, his face a perfect mask of emptiness.  

"Drink," Rabastan commanded, pressing a crystal flute into Draco's hand. The liquid sloshed over the rim as Draco's fingers trembled. "Smile, this is a celebration."  

Draco mechanically raised the glass to his lips, the champagne bitter on his tongue, though he couldn't really taste it. The celebration swirled around him in a blur of black robes and cruel laughter. Voldemort departed after the ceremony, apparently satisfied that the Malfoy heir had been properly dealt with.  

The celebration slowly passed by, Draco found himself seated at the head table beside Rabastan the entire night, food appearing before him that he couldn't bring himself to touch. Rodolphus was making a toast, his words causing ripples of laughter to spread through the crowd of Death Eaters.  

"...and my brother always did have an eye for pretty things!" More laughter, glasses raised.  

Draco's eyes remained fixed on the untouched plate before him. The binding mark on his hand throbbed dully, a constant reminder of the magical contract that now enslaved him. He was married. He belonged to Rabastan Lestrange, there was no equality in the kind of marriage he was forced into.  

"Eat something," Rabastan commanded, his voice cutting through the fog in Draco's mind. "You'll need your strength for later."  

More laughter erupted from nearby Death Eaters who had overheard. Draco's fingers closed mechanically around his fork, but he couldn't bring himself to lift it.  

"Perhaps he's saving his appetite for something else," one of the guests joked, sending another wave of cruel laughter through the party.  

"A toast to the happy couple!" Bellatrix declared, rising from her seat with wild eyes and a wider smile. "To my nephew and his new husband, may their union bring honour to both our houses!"  

The celebration continued around him while he stayed still at its centre, like a pixie pinned to a board, displayed for everyone's amusement.  

More toasts were made, each cruder than the last. The celebration grew rowdier as bottles emptied, and inhibitions lowered.  

Rabastan's hand suddenly clamped down on Draco's thigh under the table as he trembled from the attention, fingers digging painfully into his flesh. "I believe," Rabastan announced, rising to his feet and pulling Draco up beside him, "that my new husband is so overwhelmed by today's festivities that we should retire early." His arm snaked possessively around Draco's waist, supporting his weight as the younger man's knees threatened to buckle. "He needs... privacy to properly adjust to his new role."  

The ballroom erupted with energetic laughter and crude suggestions. Goblets banged against tables as the assembled Death Eaters toasted the couple's departure. Draco remained limp in Rabastan's grip, his body moving mechanically while his mind floated somewhere far away.  

"Look at him," Dolohov called out, gesturing with his goblet. "The boy's practically catatonic! What will you do with him in that state, Rabastan?"  

More laughter erupted as Rabastan's lips curled into a predatory smile. "I have my ways of waking him up," he replied, prompting crude cheers and whistles from the assembled Death Eaters.  

"To the wedding night!" someone shouted, starting a new wave of lewd suggestions that echoed through the ballroom.  

The toast was met with raucous approval as more drinks were poured. Throughout it all, Draco remained locked in his dissociative state, his body present while his mind retreated far away. The binding mark on his wrist continued to pulse, the magic settling into his skin like a brand which would continue to remind him of their connection. 

Chapter Text

The stroll through the manor passed in a blur as Draco felt sick. His feet moved automatically as Rabastan's iron grip around his waist prevented him from running away.  

When they reached Draco's parent's bedroom there was a second of clarity through the fog. It hadn't crossed his mind that because his father was no longer there, he would be the new head of Malfoy Manor, which meant he would have a claim on the Master Bedroom. Memories of him as a young boy, seeking comfort in his parent's bed during thunderstorms, where he lay when he was ill, being read stories by his parents, was now to be the site of his ultimate sacrifice.  

Rabastan kicked the door shut behind them, the sound echoing through the spacious bedroom. "Tomorrow you will be allowed to bring your things into this bedroom, but tonight we have other matters to attend." With surprising gentleness, he guided Draco to sit on the edge of the massive four poster bed, the emerald silk sheets gleaming in the dim light of floating candles. The room had been prepared for them, for his wedding night with flickering flames that cast long shadows across the walls.  

"Finally," Rabastan murmured, his voice low as he stood before Draco. "Alone at last."  

Draco remained motionless, his eyes fixed on some distant point, his mind still desperately clinging to the fact that it couldn't be real.  

Rabastan watched him for a long moment, then reached out to cup Draco's chin, forcing Draco to look at him.  

Painfully slowly, Draco's eyes focused on Rabastan, his husband, bound by magic and law. Rabastan's dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he traced Draco's jawline with his thumb.  

"So beautiful," Rabastan whispered, his eyes full of hunger. "And all mine now."  

The fog in Draco's mind began to lift as reality of what would soon happen struck him like lightning.  

"There you are," Rabastan said softly, noticing the change in Draco's eyes as awareness returned to him, as fear filled him. "I was wondering when you'd come back to me."  

Rabastan's fingers moved from Draco's chin up to his hair, slowly running through his platinum hair, gripping the strands with just enough force to tilt his head back. Moving closer to him Rabastan whispered next to his ear, his hot breath sending a shiver through Draco. "You look exquisite in these robes, but I think you'll look even better out of them."  

His words penetrated the last of Draco's hazy fog, he felt his body start to protest what would soon happen between them in the master bedroom of Malfoy Manor. "Don't," Draco whispered, his voice was weak as it was the first word he'd spoken in hours.  

Rabastan's lips curled into a predatory smile. "He speaks at last." His fingers traced the high collar of Draco's robes, lingering at the silver clasps. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd married a statue."  

Rabastan began unfastening the clasps with a painfully slow motion, his eyes never leaving Draco's face. "You've been so quiet all day, my pretty bride." The first clasp popped open under his fingers, then the second and the formal robes loosened at Draco's throat.  

"So beautiful," Rabastan murmured, his eyes darkening as he continued unfastening Draco's robe. "A proper pureblood, so elegant." Rabastan's fingers brushed against Draco's collarbone, making him tremble under his touch. "And now mine."  

Draco's hands trembled as he attempted to push Rabastan away. "Please…"  

"Shh," Rabastan caught his wrists with one iron tight grip. "We're married now, Draco. This is what married couples do."  

Rabastan's thumb caressed the faint binding mark on Draco's wrist, sending waves of disgust through his body that made his stomach turn. Horror spread through Draco's body as Rabastan laid him down on the emerald silk sheets.  

"You look good like this," Rabastan muttered as he hovered over Draco, his fingers traced the opening of Draco's formal robes, exposing more pale skin beneath.  

Draco turned his face away, but Rabastan caught his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.  

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you," he commanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I want to see your eyes when I claim you," Rabastan finished, his voice thick with desire as his lips brushed against Draco's neck, pressing hot kisses against Draco's trembling skin as his hands working to remove the formal robes.  

Draco shuddered, his body going rigid as Rabastan's mouth trailed along his throat, teeth occasionally scraping against his pulse. The cool air hit Draco's exposed skin as Rabastan stripped away the wedding robes, his dark eyes inhaling every inch of pale flesh he revealed.  

"Perfect," Rabastan murmured, his voice husky with desire. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined. I'll make sure you never forget this night, my pretty bride," he then said as he returned his attention to Draco's neck.  

Draco's breath caught in his throat as Rabastan's mouth travelled lower, his body trembled as Rabastan's tongue and lips seemed to cover all exposed skin, paying extra attention to the scars which crossed his chest, scars which Potter gave him, before he removed Draco's trousers in one fluid motion, before pulling back in order to get a better look at Draco.  

With deliberate slowness, Rabastan began to remove his own wedding robes. First the heavy outer cloak, dropped carelessly to the floor. Then the silver formal jacket, revealing a crisp white shirt beneath. His eyes never left Draco's face as he unbuttoned it slowly, one button at a time.  

Draco couldn't look away even if he wanted as Rabastan stripped, revealing a body hardened by years in Azkaban. Scars covered his torso, pale against partly tanned skin. Rabastan's muscles flexed beneath the scarred skin as he removed his trousers, standing completely naked before the bed.  

"This is our wedding night, Draco," Rabastan said, his voice deeper as he approached the bed. "A night you'll remember for the rest of your life."  

The mattress dipped as Rabastan climbed onto it. Rabastan gripped Draco's ankles, spreading his legs as he settled between them. Draco's breath came in shallow gasps, his heart hammering against his ribs as Rabastan loomed over him. Terror coursed through Draco as he knew it would hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to the humiliation of being claimed by a man like Rabastan.  

"Please," Draco whispered, a final desperate plea.  

Rabastan's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Begging already? We've barely begun." He lowered his head and captured Draco's mouth in a surprisingly gentle kiss, unlike the iron grip on his thighs. But then his tongue pressed against Draco's lips, demanding entry. Instinctively Draco kept his lips sealed, only to moan as Rabastan painfully gripped his jaw and squeezed hard enough to make Draco gasp, not seeming to care Draco was hurting, not before he released a painful shriek which ended with his mouth opening. Immediately Rabastan's tongue invaded his mouth, leaving Draco gasping for air.  

Draco's stomach twisted with dread as Rabastan's lips trailed down his neck again, across his collarbone. Each kiss felt like fire ⁠⁠against his skin, marking him as property. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sensation of Rabastan's mouth moving lower, teeth grazing his nipple before continuing downward.  

"Open your eyes," Rabastan commanded, pausing at Draco's navel. "I want you to pay attention to what I'm doing to you."  

Reluctantly, Draco opened his eyes, meeting Rabastan's dark gaze. The hunger he saw there made his blood run cold.  

"Please don't," Draco whispered, his voice breaking.  

Rabastan's lips curled into a cruel smile before he returned his lips to Draco's trembling stomach. The kiss was almost tender, not that it helped the terror that passed through Draco when he saw the hungry eyes looking up at him.  

Terror and shame flooded through Draco as Rabastan's mouth moved lower, his breath ghosting over Draco's exposed flesh. The thought of what would come made him want to fade away where he lay, the pain, violation, and humiliation, would be far more than he could take, he was sure of that.  

"You're trembling," Rabastan observed, his voice thick with desire. "Good. I want you to feel everything I do to you. I'm going to enjoy breaking you in."  

His lips brushed against Draco's inner thigh, surprisingly gentle. Nervously Draco gasped as Rabastan's tongue traced the length of his cock, his body's betrayal him immediately.  

"No," Draco whispered, the word barely audible as Rabastan's mouth and tongue swirled around the head before taking him deeper. Draco's body betrayed him completely, hardening against his will. Rabastan hummed as he continued to suck his cock, the vibration sent shock waves up Draco's spine, automatically he grabbed the sheets, knuckles turning white as he fought against his body's true desires.  

"You can say no all you want, you can look away and pretend you don't want it, but your body knows what it wants," Rabastan murmured, releasing him momentarily.  

Before Draco could respond Rabastan flipped him over with surprising strength, positioning him on his stomach. The sudden movement left Draco disoriented, his face pressed against the silk sheets as Rabastan's hands gripped his hips and lifted them up, startling him even further.  

"What are you-" Draco's question died in his throat as Rabastan spread his cheeks apart, exposing him completely.  

"So innocent," Rabastan murmured, his breath hot against Draco's most private area, sending a shiver through Draco. "Has anyone ever touched you here before?"  

Draco couldn't answer, mortified by his position and the question as Rabastan's thumbs circled his entrance. Then, without warning, he felt something wet and warm press against him, and only when it entered him did, he realise just what it was, Rabastan's tongue.  

"No…" The word escaped Draco's lips, only to be followed by a moan as the sensation was unlike anything he'd ever experienced "Stop… ah…you can't…" Draco's protests dissolved into moans as Rabastan's tongue kept moving, sending waves of pleasure through him. "Fuck," he gasped, unable to contain the sound as Rabastan's tongue worked deeper. His body betrayed him completely, muscles relaxing against his will as pleasure rushed through his body.  

Rabastan gripped his hips harder, pulling him back against his face as his tongue continued. The wet sounds filled the room, followed by Draco's gasps and moans as his toes curled. Rabastan's tongue invaded him rhythmically, thrusting in and out, circling his hole before he did things which made Draco feel things he'd never imagine he'd feel before. His face burned with humiliation as Rabastan chuckled against his sensitive flesh, the vibrations sending new waves of unwanted pleasure up his spine.  

"So responsive," Rabastan murmured against Draco's entrance, his hot breath making Draco shiver uncontrollably. "Let's see how you handle this." Rabastan withdrew his tongue only to replace it with a slick finger that pushed inside with deliberate slowness. The intrusion burned despite the preparation, making Draco gasp into the sheets.  

The finger probed deeper, and it was uncomfortable until it pressed against something that sent sparkling lights in front of Draco's vision. His back arched involuntarily, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as pleasure shot through him like lightning.  

"There it is," Rabastan whispered triumphantly, rubbing that spot with merciless precision. "Your sweet spot."  

Draco bit into the pillow, trying desperately to muffle the sounds he couldn't control as Rabastan's finger stroked that spot inside him repeatedly. His cock throbbed traitorously between his legs, leaking onto the silk sheets beneath him. The stimulation overwhelmed Draco as Rabastan added a second finger, stretching him further while continuing to assault his sensitive bundle of nerves. It burned, but there was also pleasure, confusing Draco's body and mind.  

"That's it," Rabastan murmured, curling his fingers with precision against Draco's prostate. "Let yourself go. Show me how much you enjoy being touched here."  

The fingers moved faster now, rubbing mercilessly against the spot while a third finger joined the others, stretching him wider. The burn mingled with the intense pleasure, it left Draco gasping and writhing against the sheets. His hips moved of their own accord, pressing back against the invading digits as Rabastan relentlessly stimulated that bundle of nerves deep inside him.  

"Look at you," Rabastan whispered, his voice full of arousal. "Fucking yourself on my fingers like you were made for this." The fingers twisted and scissored, stretching him while maintaining that constant pressure against his prostate.  

"Fuck-" Draco's voice broke as the pressure inside him became unbearable. His body trembled, muscles clenching around Rabastan's fingers as intense waves of pleasure crashed through him. His cock pulsed untouched, his vision blurring as a familiar cramping movements passed through his body just seconds before he came all over the emerald sheets, his orgasm tearing through his body with violent intensity. His body shuddering as his vision was clouded, he came harder than he ever had before.  

"Beautiful," Rabastan murmured, continuing to work his fingers against Draco's prostate until Draco was sobbing from overstimulation.  

Shame flooded through Draco's body as he realised what he'd done, hot tears spilled down his cheeks as he buried his face in the pillow. The humiliation of finding pleasure from Rabastan's touch burned worse than any physical pain could have. His body had betrayed him completely.  

"I can't-," Draco gasped, his voice exhausted as Rabastan's fingers continued their merciless assault on his sensitive hole.  

"But we've only just begun," Rabastan purred, withdrawing his fingers at last. The sudden emptiness left Draco feeling hollow, his body clenching around nothing as aftershocks continued to ripple through him.  

The mattress shifted as Rabastan moved behind him, strong hands gripping Draco's hips to position him, and Draco felt something much larger than fingers pressing against his entrance.  

"Now for the main event," Rabastan whispered, his voice strained with desire. "To fully consummation of our union."  

The pressure increased as Rabastan began to push inside, the stretch was far more intense than his fingers had been, and despite the preparation, the invasion was overwhelming. Draco felt himself automatically try to escape the pressure but was unable to move as Rabastan's strong hands held him back.  

"So tight," Rabastan groaned, his fingers digging into Draco's hips hard enough to bruise his tender flesh. "But I fit into you as if you were made for me."  

Draco bit down on the pillow, tears streaming down his face as Rabastan sank deeper into him. The pain mingled with sparks of unwanted pleasure as the older man's length brushed against his oversensitive prostate.  

"No," Draco sobbed as Rabastan's hips pressed against his ass before he moved. Rabastan established a rhythm where each thrust drove in faster and harder than the previous, each withdrawal dragging against sensitive nerves that sent confusing signals through Draco's body, a combination of intense pain and intense pleasure. He couldn't hold back his cries, each thrust forcing whimpers and gasps from his throat, sounds which made him sound like a common whore begging for more.  

Draco sobbed into the pillow, his body trembling beneath Rabastan's weight. "It hurts too much…"  

"Just breathe," Rabastan told him, his voice surprisingly gentle. "The pain will pass."  

The pain continued for another few thrusts, before Rabastan's cock seemed to hit his prostate all over again, sending a jolt of electricity up his spine. The pain was still there, but as the pleasure increased, Draco found his painful moans turning into pleasurable ones, and then, without meaning to, he started pushing back against Rabastan's cock.  

"Ah!" The sound that escaped his lips was different, it was higher, full of need. The burning pain stayed, but with each thrust, waves of unexpected pleasure rippled through him, confusing his senses completely.  

"There it is," Rabastan murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. He maintained the angle, each thrust striking Draco's sensitive spot.  

Draco's fingers clutched desperately at the sheets, torn between pulling away and pushing back against each thrust.  

"That's it," Rabastan encouraged, one hand gripping Draco's hip while the other twisted in his platinum hair, pulling his head back. "Your body knows what it wants, even if you don't want to admit it."  

The pain still burned through Draco with each thrust, but his body was adapting to the intrusion, accepting it, wanting each new thrust. Each time Rabastan's cock brushed across his sensitive spot, the waves of pleasure drowning out the searing pain.  

"You're doing so well," Rabastan praised as he continued to thrust into Draco's body, his angle adapting in order to give Draco the most pleasure.  

"Perfect," Rabastan remarking, his voice thick with desire. "So tight." His hand slid from Draco's hip to his lower back, caressing the pale skin with surprising tenderness.  

Draco's face burned with shame at the words, at how his body was responding despite his mind's protest. The line between pain and pleasure from each thrust blurred with every thrust.  

"Such a good boy," Rabastan murmured. "My beautiful husband."  

Draco hated the words of endearment Rabastan used, but at the same time his body seemed to respond it as he found himself clenching around Rabastan's length in a way that made the older man groan.  

"Yes, just like that," Rabastan panted, his thrusts becoming more forceful. Despite his shame, despite his hatred for the man behind him, his body betrayed him completely. His cock hard a second time, leaking onto the sheets with each thrust.  

"So perfect," Rabastan praised, his voice growing ragged as his pace increased. His fingers dug into Draco's hips, holding him in place as his thrusts became more erratic. Draco's cock throbbed painfully between his legs, his second orgasm building despite his desperate attempts to fight it.  

"My gorgeous bride," Rabastan groaned. Draco bit down on the pillow, muffling the sounds he couldn't control as Rabastan's thrusts continued to hit that spot inside him with devastating accuracy.  

"You're mine now," Rabastan panted, his rhythm faltering slightly as he drove deeper. Draco hated how he kept talking, kept praising, reminding him that he was Rabastan's property. Each word Rabastan uttered was both humiliating and oddly stimulating as he maintained his relentless pace. Draco's resistance crumbled further with each thrust, his body responding to Rabastan in an unwanted way.  

"I'm going to fill you," Rabastan growled, his rhythm suddenly faltering as his body tensed. "Going to leave my scent on you, make you truly mine."  

Draco then felt Rabastan's cock pulse inside him as Rabastan grunted like an animal, filling him up.  

"Fuck… yes… take it all," Rabastan gasped, continuing to thrust as he filled Draco with each thrust.  

The sensation of being filled by Rabastan's release pushed Draco over the edge, his body betraying him a second time as his own climax crashed through him.  

In his post orgasmic haze, he barely recognised Rabastan's words as he kept praising him. Instead tears streamed down Draco's face, soaking into the silk pillowcase beneath him as everything was just too much for him. He lay beneath Rabastan for what felt like forever before Rabastan, the Death Eater, his husband, pulled out of Draco. The sudden emptiness left Draco feeling hollow as he lay on the stained sheets, his limbs trembling with exhaustion. Next to him Rabastan stretched, unbothered by the mess they'd made.  

"You exceeded all my expectations," Rabastan whispered as he reached around Draco's waist, pulling Draco against his chest with surprising gentleness. "Such a responsive little thing."  

Draco couldn't help but stiffen, tears silently tracking down his face as Rabastan's seed leaked from his abused body. He could hear Rabastan's breathing slow against his neck, but the arm around his waist still heavy and possessive.  

Draco didn't want to sleep, he wanted to find a way out of his predicament. Out of the room. Out of Rabastan's embrace. Unfortunately, it was difficult thinking about an escape, but then he had his mother to think about, and he realised he hadn't seen her most of the party.  

Draco's eyes fluttered as exhaustion began to overcome him. The eyelids grew heavier with each passing minute. The weight of Rabastan's arm around his waist reminded him of his situation as it drifted off. He tried to fight it, but he felt oddly safe as he felt the warmth of Rabastan's body against his. Draco's mind grew increasingly foggy. His limbs felt heavy, his eyelids impossible to keep open. His breathing slowed. The tears on his cheeks dried. The pain in his body dulled to a distant throb as everything faded away and he willingly allowed himself to fall asleep.