Darkness isn't black. Not completely. Once someone sits in the darkness for long enough shapes began to take form and grow definition instead of formless blobs. They take on a different tints of color and things that couldn't be seen before were soon easily seen.
Where he stayed, light couldn't reach him. When he first arrived, he could see nothing. Now he could make out the cracks in the stone pieces, the bars that kept him from the outside world, the forms of hooded creatures that floated by. He could see the empty cell in front of him and the two edges of the cells beside the one in front. Walls surrounded the other three walls and he could see nothing further from the hall unless he pressed himself to the bars to peer out of his cell.
The only things that he could feel crawled over his skin, the goosebumps never leaving his body. Cold breath floating over to him, the stones around him unable to hold any heat. If he gripped the cell bars, his fingers would turn icy and grow numb.
At first he tried to ignore the screams, to keep them at bay from his mind. Over time he realized that the screams were all different; some were angry, others anguished and still others filled with pain.
Pain so deep, so indistinguishable, that the only way to release that feeling was through sound. If the emotion didn't escape, it would tear the person apart from the inside far faster than anything else in that place.
As time went on, he stopped trying to ignore the screams and instead began to listen. Stories hid in the cries with other hidden emotions. That's how he continued on; not thriving, but not completely wasting away.
When his turn came, when the freezing fingers of their breath came and pulled his memories to the front of his mind, he screamed his own story.
Pain. Confusion. Death. Terror. Pride.
Death. Mostly death.
When he felt he would crack, that he would lose himself, he retreated into his own mind. He could still feel, but everything became muted.
There, in his mind, he had time to think. Of his parents, of his mission, of his decisions, of his past. And when his thoughts threatened to consume him he returned to his world of screams.
The concept of time didn't exist. They came with no pattern, coming whenever they decided to feast on his emotions. Light couldn't penetrate where he stayed so he couldn't track days. Screams only told of lives passed and the emotions of the present, not time. Food came randomly. Sometimes as soon as they finished and sometimes didn't come until he was faint with hunger.
Any muscles he had at some point disintegrated before his very eyes. They dwindled until his skin barely stretched over his bones.
So he could have been there weeks - malnourished and stress ruining his body more quickly than what was normal - or he could have been there for years and he would never know.
Still, he expected to never see light or another face again. The ones who brought him food mostly wore masks or hoods that covered their features. Others disillusioned themselves so they didn't quite look like humans. Or perhaps that had been his mind playing tricks on him.
"Malfoy."
Hmm... that name had once meant something. Power. Prestige. Now the name lay in tattered ruins, not that it mattered anyway. The Malfoys were all dead. Except him. He got to survive. Why him? Why?
"Malfoy."
They were trying a new tactic: new memories, old people. Old pain, new words. New type of food for them. Maybe they were going to bring up the memory from the bathroom, when all he felt was hot, searing pain.
"Malfoy!"
He definitely recognized the voice as annoyed as it sounded. The voice also sounded too real.
Taking a deep breath, Draco opened his eyes. His body shivered as the cold seemed to seep into him, berating him for forgetting about it.
Sure enough, though, Potter stood outside the bars of his cell.
Dark circles lay under his eyes, the green color more muted than Draco remembered from school. Potter's lips turned up into a semblance of a smile before it disappeared
The man's shoulders were tense and Draco could easily tell that the other wizard didn't want to be there.
"Malfoy," Potter sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. "I'm here to take you away."
Draco uncurled himself, his arms releasing his knees as he forced himself to sit up from his lying position on the floor. The energy he used sapped his whole strength and he swayed violently at the new position.
Out? His mind whispered. Out? OUT?
"Malfoy?"
The door clanged open, metal screeching against stone, Draco barely able to hear the sound.
Out? Life-time imprisonment, though... Out?
Cold, so cold.
Lies. Like always. Always lies.
He lies!
"Malfoy?"
Draco shrank away, bowing his head in his knees, he shoulders shaking.
Would Potter lie about this?
A hand pressed gently on his shoulder and Draco flinched at the alien touch. But he looked up into Potter's eyes, which were soft and held no visible deception.
"Come on, lets get out of here."
No, he wouldn't.
Draco took the offered hand and attempted to stand, but Potter pulled too hard, too quickly.
Draco's world spun and he didn't remember anything else.
A/N IMPORTANT MESSAGE: Hi everyone! if you haven't seen my profile, then let me tell you what I'm doing. This is the first of 5 stories I'm posting today. I've been stuck on writing because I've been juggling between all the stories in my head. I'm going to focus on the story that gets the most views/follows/favorites/reviews ect ect. in the next week. I'll be doing a tally on 2-25-18.
God help me… Harry Potter and Twilight… Gah… The reason I say this: I don't like Bella because she is a really bad role model and there are some… questionable themes - at least in my opinion.
On that note, the Bella in this story is going to be different. She won't be 'bad' or 'evil', just… different. Edward as well…
And I actually did research on Twilight so I could use facts from that… be proud of me! Lol.
And a random thought: apparently I can't stay away from Draco for too long…
Some chapters will be long, others short. No promises on the lengths.
Unbetaed