Secrets and Masks

33. Prayers and Promises

TW; graphic scenes of torture, blood and disfigurement.

16th May

"Fear will destroy you if you let it, Draco. But remember, if administered correctly, fear can also be the most dangerous weapon on earth."

His father had told him that once, mentioned it briefly over dinner while Draco stared down at his untouched food, moments before the Dark Lord had swept into their home and branded Draco with the Dark Mark.

At the time, Draco supposed it was his father's way of embarrassing him into submission. Anger him into obedience. Make him raise his chin defiantly, meet the eyes of his master while he offered up his arm. It was supposed to be a warning, helpful words laced in a threat, but it turned out to be the best fucking piece of advice his father would ever give him.

Because Lucius was right. Fear was powerful, damaging beyond measure. In the years since taking the mark, Draco had witnessed that himself. Seen first-hand what fear could do, even to the bravest man.

Fear was poison, a snake bite that started in the mind and dragged itself along veins and muscles like a corpse across a floor until it devoured its victim whole. He'd watched fear cloud the minds of the most ruthless generals, watched it seize their muscles and render them useless like a deer caught in headlights. Paralysed with fear.

Fuck, fear was a tool Malfoy often used himself in interrogations. Dangled it in front of hostages like a loaded gun. Watched it swell in their eyes until they spilt secrets they never would have dreamed of telling if they weren't so terrified of him, of what he might do to them.

And if fear was a poison, then Occlumency was the antidote.

Malfoy supposed it was fitting; one parent handing him a loaded gun while the other showed him how to use a shield.

Occlumency walls numbed everything. They allowed Malfoy to reach into his own chest and take out the emotions that would otherwise cripple him. Fear. Compassion. Guilt. They were things he didn't need when he wore his horned mask. Things that would only hold him back on the battlefield. Sounds didn't reverberate off icy walls the same way they did open air. Screams were muffled. Cries for help slid off the surface. Occlumency allowed him to switch off. Drown his guilt and empathy and allow him to focus on the axe in his hand and the blood at his feet.

Malfoy already knew that he owed his Demon Mask to this type of magic. Without it, he wouldn't have been able to gain his position at the Dark Lord's side, would never have been ruthless enough, so without fear and compassion, to ever be deemed Voldemort's 'favourite demon'.

Occlumency was the reason he was able to cast aside the fear - the fucking desperation - he'd felt when he'd learned of Astoria's accident, and instead, focus on the task the Dark Lord had given him.

Occlumency was the reason Malfoy was able to be ruthless enough to slice off the priests toes one by one, and be eerily calm as the priest screamed, without the fear of Astoria dying crippling him.

Unfortunately, that fear had already taken hold of Theo. The idea that they might be too late to save her, that she was already dead, was choking him. And Malfoy could do nothing but carry on with his task and leave the poison to pass through his system.

So, as Draco tortured the priest beyond measure, Nott sat in the corner of the room, utterly useless.

Malfoy had known it was going to happen. Had seen that terror creep into Theo's eyes when Voldemort forbid them from helping Astoria, and as soon as he'd closed the door to the interrogation room behind him, Nott had slid down the wall, pulled his knees to his chest and dug his fingers into his hair.