Lord Voldemort is a well-known alpha, famous because of his lust for power. Draco Malfoy, the son of one of the Dark Lord's followers: Lucius, is an omega. The Malfoy Lord, ashamed of a Omega son, has done everything in his power to keep his son's s...
Well, an announcement before we start ~ THIS STORY HAS MENTIONS OF ABUSE, SLIGHTLY TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, PANIC ATTACKS, FLASHBACKS, RAPE AND CHILDHOOD TRAUMA IF YOU GET TRIGGERED EASILY, THEN PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION
Let's gooooooooooooooooooo.................
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"Malfoys do not cry," Lucius declared, delivering a forceful kick to Draco's stomach, causing him to double over in pain with tears freely flowing down his cheeks.
Draco managed to choke out, "I apologize, Father," before he winced in pain when the serpent-shaped fangs on his father's cane tore open the skin on his shoulder.
Lucius retorted, "Malfoys do not say sorry. And Malfoys do not come second to mudbloods."
Lucius, consumed by an unrelenting desire to make it clear that being second to a mudblood in school was not accepted in the Malfoy house, prolonged the heartless torment.
Narcissa stood frozen, unable to take action as her husband pushed Draco to the brink. Her presence in the room was that of a mere spectator, a silent observer of the cruel unfolding of events.
Lucius, his face contorted in disappointment, cast the Cruciatus Curse not just once, but twice. Each curse sent waves of excruciating pain coursing through Draco's body. The boy's screams and sobs grew louder as he writhed on the cold, marble floor, his body contorting in response to the relentless agony. His face was twisted in a mask of anguish, and tears streamed from his eyes as he gasped for breath between cries of torment.
Despite the cries and pleas that escaped Draco's lips, Lucius remained steadfast, convinced that this was the only method to forge his son into a true Malfoy.
In the agonizing grip of the Cruciatus Curse, Draco's world transformed into a nightmarish abyss of suffering. The curse felt like his very skin was set ablaze. A searing, unrelenting heat coursed through his veins. The pain was so fierce that it was as if his very essence was engulfed in an inferno, and he could feel his body twitch and convulse in response. Every breath was a torment of its own. The fire consuming his lungs, made it feel as if every breath brought not life-sustaining air but flames that scorched and singed him from the inside. His chest heaved in desperate attempts to draw breath, but each one was met with even more pain. A thousand needles pricked at his skin with every moment that the curse held him in its grip. It was as if invisible hands pierced his flesh repeatedly, sending shockwaves of pain radiating through every inch of his body. Each sensation was a cruel reminder of his father's unforgivingness.
After Lucius had exacted what he deemed to be an adequate measure of suffering, he finally commanded Draco to rise. The young Malfoy, his body weakened and spirit battered, attempted to obey, but his trembling legs gave way beneath him, causing him to collapse once more.
