A Taste of Mudbloods

It was upon the dizzily December night that Draco Malfoy awoke yet again to that anxiety that almost characterized to be agony. He reflected his thoughts of anguish and despair, drawing in the instruments of life that surrounded him that might just give him that spark of infused life that he just yet needed. The hour soon closed to one in the morning; the rain beating against the window panes in a careless pattern, the candle nearly burned out, the hot wax spreading it’s separation into the wood chips of his desk, a small glimmer protruding from the half-extinguished light. He shifted his limbs uncomfortably and made a convulsive arching movement with his back, his lips parted and a soft moan of agonizing pain escaped the tuneless air. With one swift motion he flipped to his front, the soft feathered mattress caressing his sore and bruised muscles from the enduring punishment he acquired earlier that day. Two words, His father.
A single line of blood trickled down the pale underside of his arm, his white crisp shirt now dyed red, he placed his rugged and cut hand upon his silvery blonde hair, breathing in the pure stench of blood which enveloped him in a pure darkness; that even Lord Voldemort couldn’t consummate. It was at this hour in the morning that Draco found himself visualizing the past events that prolonged him to be so out of sorts, the mark. The mark where his father had used pure force to leave a strong hand shape against his weak ribs, boarding upon a burn forming and raising up from the prickling skin beneath.
A strong crack paralleled the wavering air, a figure lingering about Draco’s broken body, and then Draco looked up into the cold, dreamless eyes of Severus Snape’s.
Severus Snape stood a mere two inches from Draco Malfoy, his greasy black hair hanging limply around his square jaw, the faint glimmer of light showing the grey skin that riddled his skin, if his looks weren’t enough to show you how unwell he was, well then his voice would have said it all.
“Draco...you have business to do” Snape said half-feignedly; “The dark lord requests...”
“...Whatever the dark lord requests, I have to do? Isn’t that right?” Draco cut him off like a half-wit, a slight disgusted tone to his voice to match his face; “I am not just some fucking toy that anyone can play with, this isn’t right Severus, and you know it!” Pleaded Draco, his eyes bearing tears of sadness and hurt; “What he’s done to my family...my father...is enough! I will not go through with this!” Draco sobbed, tears freely flowing down into all his cuts, causing him to wince in pain, taking fluent steps a-back from Snape.
“Now come, come Draco, this isn’t such a big task...” An evil snaring and mischievous voice snarled from the corner of the room, a pale lifeless, white hand shot to Draco’s throat, causing Draco to struggle with his breath, flailing his arms and limbs out all over the place as though to stop such a deprived part of him.
“You will do as I say young boy, whether forced or willingly” The Dark Lord crackled, pushing Draco upon the floor and looking down upon him.
Crusio!