It's Not Worth It

It's Not Worth It

The grounds were beautiful this time of night in the middle of winter. They looked so quiet, almost safe, except for the shadows that adorned the white snow along the edges of the Forest. Usually, people would be up here, staring up at the sky and discussing things. Their problems, relationships, anything. Not tonight, though. It was far too cold to be up here. It had snowed all day, rained the day prior. It was awful, but Draco loved it. It fit his mood perfectly.

Now, as he stood against the sill of the Astronomy Tower, overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts, he wondered what had happened to his life. Of course, asking 'what if' never helped, but he did it anyway. What if he hadn't turned from his father? What if Voldemort had died in his fourth year, like he was supposed to? The questions would never be answered.

Tears pooled in his grey eyes as he raised them toward the black sky. The only light coming was from the moon, which was half hidden behind some storm clouds. A few stars were scattered around the clouds, making it look kind of normal. People would think that if you were magical, you'd have perfect weather all the time. All he actually wanted was to be normal. Annoy Potter and his friends again. That made him feel secured, in a way. Knowing they'd always be there to make fun of.

Until they graduated, of course. That wasn't for another two years, and at the rate Draco was going, he wouldn't graduate with them. With some people, the thought would scare them; not graduating. Not with him, though. He didn't even want to pass his fifth year. Didn't want to face his father again.

"Oh God." He choked quietly as a few tears started to slide from his eyes, and he closed them tightly, his chest starting to rise and fall more rapidly, trying to stop himself from sobbing.

"You have betrayed us once again, young Malfoy." Voldemort hissed as he stood next to Lucius in a hidden office in Draco's home. There were so many different rooms in this manor, Draco didn't think even his father knew half of them. This one only Lucius and Voldemort had known, until now.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Draco sneered back, hoping to keep up his game, thinking the Dark Lord would believe him. His father held his wand in front of him, ready to curse his own son if anything were to happen.

"The first time you betrayed us, we let you off with a simple warning." Voldemort said, ignoring Draco's sneering remark. Draco flinched, remembering when his father had yelled Crutio a month back. He'd been sore for days after. "Then the second time, your punishment was harsher." Draco could feel the cuts on his back and shoulders stinging lightly still from two weeks before. "But now, this has gone too far. What your father has suggested won't hurt you physically, " Draco sighed in relief to himself. "But emotionally."

"What?" Draco's eyes narrowed at his father, who glared back at him with a smirk on his face. The trademark Malfoy smirk.

"Your partner will be Wormtail." Voldemort said, his red eyes eying Draco, smirking also. "Wormtail has betrayed us also."

"I never betrayed you." Draco snapped, then cried out when the back of his father's fist hit his face.

"Loving a man is one thing." Lucius growled as his son whimpered while red drops of blood trailed from his nose and corner of his mouth. "I wouldn't be so angry. But loving a fem faggot is a sin." Lucius's hand reconnected with Draco's face. "Vincent is such a nice boy. Why not him? Why Potter?"

"Crabbe isn't a fag." Draco said as more blood trickled from his mouth, and he spit on the floor, next to his father's shoe. He'd rather die now then suffer through what Voldemort had planned. "Potter's more of a man than Crabbe is."

Voldemort smacked Draco under his chin with the brass handle of his cane, never wincing when a sickening crack came.

"Potter isn't a man. He's a lucky little boy who will die before he graduates." Voldemort sneered, but Draco couldn't let them get away with it, no matter how scared he was. The truth was, Harry was in his dorm right now, sleeping peacefully. Draco had been summoned by Voldemort, along with Snape. The mark on his left arm still stung.

"What makes Crabbe a man? Hell, what makes either of you men?" Draco asked before he was shoved to the ground by his father. He remained on his stomach, his eyes clenched shut, waiting for the impact of the next blow. It never came. Instead, Wormtail had opened the door, sticking his head in.

"Are you r - ready, sirs?" Wormtail asked, stuttering slightly. Voldemort hit him on the side of the head with the handle of his cane.

"Don't stutter. You sound like that moron, Quirrell." He hissed, then turned back to Lucius. "Pick him up before he passes out. I want him to be able to enjoy this."

Draco whimpered at the memory. That was only last night, and he was still aching. Voldemort had said it wouldn't hurt physically. Then again, he had assumed Draco wasn't a virgin. Figured Draco had been fucking Potter.

"I never fucked him!" Draco pleaded as Wormtail lifted him onto the stone slab that they were to use as a 'bed'.

"We'll find out, shall we?" Voldemort asked, smirking. Draco spit more blood at Voldemort.

"You're a sick bastard!" He cried out before Wormtail shoved him onto his stomach, lifting his back legs at the same time. Draco realized how serious this was, and felt tears sting his eyes. "I never touched Potter! I only think he's cute, I swear. I never did anything with him. He doesn't know. Oh God, please believe me, father." Draco whimpered as his pants were pulled off, staring at Lucius. For a split second, Lucius had a look of pain on his face, but it was washed away when Voldemort spoke.

Draco climbed onto the sill of the window, gripping onto the side of the stone wall, staring down at the white grounds.

"Hurry, Wormtail. It's nearly light. We must bring him back soon." Voldemort's lips curled into a smirk. "How do you feel, young Malfoy?"

Draco kept his mouth shut, but whimpered in reply. He was already in enough trouble. He had too much of a headache to make a snappy comeback anyway. Wormtail hesitated, then quickly undressed himself as Voldemort barked orders at him.

It will all be over soon. Draco thought, shutting his eyes tightly and biting his lip as Wormtail pushed himself inside him.

Draco was startled from the memory, thankfully, when he heard some footsteps coming up the stairs. The only thought in his head was to end it, now. But he had to know who it was. He had to. He bit his lip as more tears blurred his vision, and he let them fall, not caring if anyone say Draco Malfoy crying. It would be their last image of him.

"Is anyone -"

Harry stood in the doorway, startled, and staring at Draco.

"What are you -?"

"I never hated you." Draco said as more tears started to fall down his pale face, dripping from his fractured jaw.

Lucius cleaned his son up silently while his wife fed Voldemort upstairs. Wormtail was passed out on the floor, still naked and dirty from his own fluids.

"I'm proud of you." Lucius whispered, dipping a wet washcloth into the sink and wiping the dried blood from his son's lips and chin, careful not to hurt him. Draco just stared ahead of him, unfocussed, like he was dead. "You have betrayed us, but I'm proud of you for defending yourself and what you believe in."

"I hate you." Draco said quietly, his lips barely moving. Lucius ignored the comment, cleaning the blood from his son's neck and chest.

"It's worse to be the one doing the thrusts, son, than to be receiving them." Lucius said, and Draco flinched back from his father. "You're a Malfoy, Dragon. All Malfoy's have gone through this."

"I hate you." Draco repeated while Lucius dipped the cloth into the warm water again, cleaning his son's thighs and legs.

"You'll get over it." Lucius told him, then looked into his son's eyes, which were full of tears. "Don't cry. And if Voldemort sees how weak you've become, you'll get death. I've brought down some robes. Go dress so I can bring you back before daybreak."

"What are you doing, Malfoy? Get down from there. You're going to get sick." Harry took a step closer to the window, his jaw set.

"All these years, you thought I hated you because you were famous. I disliked you because I love you." Draco let out a few sobs, wiping his face and nose with the sleeve of his dark colored robe.

"You're crazy. Get down so I can bring you to Madam Pomfrey." Harry said, holding out his hand, taking another step.

"He's ill. I've given him a few potions, but he's going to have to sleep through the day." Lucius explained to Dumbledore, holding his son around the shoulders protectively.

"Why is his jaw swollen like that?" Dumbledore asked curiously, reaching out a hand to touch the injury, but Draco flinched back.

"He got in a nasty fight with one of his cousin's earlier. I gave him some pain relieving potion. That's why he's so out of it." Lucius said, squeezing Draco's arm softly. "He should get back to bed."

"Right. Draco, when you're awake, come see Madam Pomfrey about those bruises." Dumbledore smiled, allowing Lucius and Draco to go to the Slytherin House.

"No." Draco's voice shook more, taking a small step further to the window, shivering when the cold air hit his wet face.

"Don't do this. It isn't worth it. Think of all the people you're going to hurt if you jump." Harry said softly, and Draco laughed through his tears.

"It won't hurt anyone. My father can't stand me. My mother barely knows I'm still alive. Name someone who I'd hurt." Draco spat, letting one arm drop to his side, showing he was going to jump.

"You'd hurt me."

"Bullshit!" Draco dropped his other arm, wavering on the sill, and Harry panicked, taking a few more steps so that he was in the middle of the room.

"Don't jump, please." Harry whispered softly.

"I have to. I'm in too much pain." Draco said, taking another small step so that his toes were now hanging over the edge. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry watched as Draco let himself go. He ran to the window, not believing this was happening. The only sound that was heard was the sickening thud and crack from when Draco's body hit the ground. The only thing that told Harry he was dead, was when the red blood stained the white, glistening snow.