"Take it like a man," his father says, so cliché and yet there is nothing funny about it, just terror rising and rising and rising until Draco feels like he's choking. Tears bathe his face and he turns his head away, trying to hide his shame and weakness. It's not theirs to see. This can't be happening. His father couldn't really...wouldn't really... Draco is helpless, unable to even twitch a finger, and his father's eyes carry an unpleasant gleam as he stands over Draco and twirls the knife in dexterous fingers, silhouetted against a backdrop of inky nothing. Draco might not be able to consciously move his limbs, but they are trembling involuntarily with coldness and terror as his father reaches his right side and kneels with careful precision.