How comes it then that thou art out of hell?
Why this is hell, nor am I out of it.
Think'st thou that I who saw the face of God,
And tasted the eternal joys of Heaven,
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells,
In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss?
"Too close to the bone. I thought we were here for some time out."
"Sorry. I asked for a massive sofa, and some suitable poetry, and it provided . . ."
"Try another book."
Why this sudden restlessness, this confusion?
(How serious people's faces have become.)
Why are the streets and squares emptying so rapidly,
everyone going home so lost in thought?
Because night has fallen and the barbarians have not come.
And some who have just returned from the border say
there are no barbarians any longer.
And now, what's going to happen to us without barbarians?
They were, those people, a kind of solution".
"It's not giving us cheerful, is it."
He shrugged. "Life isn't really cheerful, is it, right now."
"There must be a better option."
"So what do you suggest? Coming out? It'd be a race to see who could kill us first. My money'd be on your father."
"We could run away, go and pretend to be Muggles."
"Great thinking. First, we haven't got a clue how to be Muggles. And second, Muggles don't like people like us any more than wizards do. Haven't you heard the mudbloods, 'That's so gay.' 'Your robes are so gay, Weasley'. It's not a compliment on his dress sense, believe me."
"So what's the best case scenario?"
"Well, if the Dark Lord wins, it'll be chaos, everyone'll be hustling for favours. No-one's going to be interested in us if we stay out of the way. We can slope off, get a flat together, we'll just be two blokes who are too ugly and stupid to get girlfriends."
"And if the others win?"
"Then we're just two stupid boys who did what their families told them. Neither of us are bright enough to have led anything, we're under age, hopefully we get let off with a caution and we go get a flat somewhere."
"And the worse case?"
"You know that as well as I do. The Dark Lord wins, they figure out what we are, we get tortured and then he kills us. Or Dumbledore's lot win, we get a show trial, then we get tortured and thrown in Azkaban. Frankly, I'd prefer the first option, at least it'd be quicker."
"It won't always be this bad, Vin. We'll work something out."
"Yeah, right. Or we could just wait for a big battle, dodge in front of a killing curse, and get it over with."
"We'd better get back. The Rat'll be wanting us."
"Five minutes."
The two boys curled up together on the sofa, just holding each other, then kissing, trying to forget for a moment.
At last, they sighed, got up.
"Back in character, Greg."
"Got it."
And their was a certain determination in their slumped shoulders as they left the Room, back to their post at Malfoy's side.
This was loosely inspired by reading obituaries for Günter Grass, and his comments about his experiences as a teenager brought up under the Nazi regime, in particular this quote: "If I had been born three or four years earlier I would, surely, have seen myself caught up in those crimes."
The first piece of poetry is from Dr Faustus, by Christopher Marlowe, the second is the last verse of Waiting for the Barbarians, by C.P. Cavafy.