For the Houses Competition!

House: Hufflepuff

Category: Short

Prompt: [Speech] "I've been here before." / "Stop lying."

Word count will be at end.

The dungeons were cold and dark, causing him to shiver, the shackles clanking together in a sort of horrible song as he tried to get used to the cold. There was a time that he would've been happy to have followed in his father's footsteps, just like his father followed his fathers, but now wasn't that time.

There was the sound of the cell door opening and a Death Eater entered, dragging someone in front of them. They crossed the room and then threw the person against the wall when they were close enough, and settled the shackles around the person's wrists and ankles, snapping them closed not so gently, causing the person to hiss in pain.

The Death Eater just smirked in response, standing back up. Then he turned to him, smirk still in place. "You'll be having a little friend stay here for a while, little Malfoy," the Death Eater crooned. "Be nice."

Then, with a cackle, the Death Eater left the cell, slamming the door shut behind him.

It was silent after the Death Eater had left and he didn't know what to say, until he heard a voice whisper, "Malfoy?"

He blinked. Why did that voice sound so familiar? He tried to figure it out, going through names, faces, and voices in his head. A black haired, green-eyed boy came to mind and his eyes widened. "P–Potter?"

"Wait, so that is you, Malfoy?"

"Of course it is!" he snapped, irritated now. "Who the bloody hell did you think it was?"

"Oh, my bad, I thought it had been Malfoy Sr."

"Whatever, Potty, what makes you think my father would want to anger the Dark Lord?" He rolled his eyes, knowing the other teen couldn't see him. "It would make no sense, really, since the Dark Lord could just kill my father anytime he wanted to."

The other teen was silent. "Well," he then began, "what did you do to anger the man?"

That shocked him. "I cost us another Death Eater in the recent raid," he finally replied after a few seconds. "It was an honest mistake, really."

"Hm, and I take it that he didn't like that?"

"Of course not, Potty."

Silence reigned again.

Then, "I've been here before."

"What?"

"In my dreams. I've been here before."

"Stop lying."

"I'm not. Did you know I'm a horcrux? I don't think Voldemort knew until our fifth year. I didn't know until our sixth year. I used to have dreams, though, of things I didn't understand. Like, before third year, and during fifth, and so on."

"Okay, and so what, Potty?"

"Well, I had a dream once of this place. I don't remember it exactly, but I've dreamt of it before, I know I have."

"And you're telling me this why?"

There was a clank of shackles moving as the other teen shrugged. "I'm not really sure, Malfoy? But now you know."

There was silence once again.

The days passed in a blur, which, during that time, he and Potter talked. They talked about Quidditch, about grades, which professors they favored and which ones they didn't, and they even talked about their family.

"Father is pretty strict," he had told him. "So is Mother, but to a lesser degree than my father is. Mother likes to shop and spoil me when she can even if I don't like it sometimes. Father would whip me with the cane if I didn't do something right, which, for the most part, was rare. I had tutors growing up, so Mother and Father didn't really teach me all of the things I learned when growing up. I didn't mind though."

Potter hadn't told him anything of his family until two days ago;

"My aunt, uncle, and cousin don't like me. Not at all. My aunt makes me do all the chores and cooking, which I learned through trial and error. My uncle hates my very existence and proves it to me by 'disciplining' me for when I do something 'freaky'. My cousin loves to use me as a punching bag for when something goes wrong for him. I hadn't even known I was a wizard until I was eleven."

"Wait, you didn't know you were a wizard until eleven?!"

"Didn't I just say that? Man, you must be a daft dunderhead."

He chuckled. "Whatever. Did they ever hurt you physically?"

"Weren't you listening? Dear Merlin, you don't even listen. Someone kill me now."

"Oh, shut up, Potter. You're such a nuisance."

"Stop lying, you've grown fond of me. Admit it."

"Never. Now shut up."

Several days later, as they had been sleeping, the cell door had blown open, flying off the hinges and slamming into the wall across the room. Three fingers entered the room, wands drawn in case of an attack.

He and Potter had jolted awake once the door had flown off the hinges and now stared at the figures.

One of the figures moved forward, wand still drawn, and made their way over to Potter. They knelt, one hand reaching up to take down the hood of the cloak they had been wearing. "Hey there, Harry," the figure whispered quietly, hands reaching for his wrist shackles. "Sorry it took so long for us to get here."

Potter has just stared at the figure before a smile spread across his face. "At least you came," he replied.

The figure smiled just as one of the two near the door barked, "Hurry up, we can't afford to stay here any longer!"

"Yeah, yeah."

The figure began working on the shackles, popping them off one at a time noisily, even though they tried to be quiet. Once the shackles were off, he scooped up Potter and set him on his back, standing up. He made his way over to the other two, Potter looking back at him.

"Thanks for the company, Malfoy."

"Always a displeasure, Potter."

With a wave, the three figures and Potter left, leaving him alone in the dark and cold cell, the door in pieces.

He wouldn't admit it, but when he watched as Potter defeat Voldemort, he couldn't help but think that he was right.

"Stop lying, you've grown fond of me. Admit it."

[word count: 1,037]