Author's Note: This is absolute proof that I should not even ATTEMPT
angst. Oh well. Read at your own risk. I tried to think of a better title,
I promise! This one just kept coming back to mind. But anyway, I'm probably
the only one bothered by it, unless anyone else has read Siubhan's "Prison
Buddies" (it involves the X-Men movie's Toad and Wolverine in jail
together. *Shudders*). Anyway, this is SLASH! AHHHH! Run away, run away!
{Lol. The funny thing is, I wrote this AN months before I ever saw Monty
Python.) Hehe. If ya don't like it, don't read it. And if ya decide to read
it anyway, well, I have very cold hands. Bad circulation or something.
Anyway, flames will certainly come in handy. *Debates going off on a
tangent about that kool body-heat-sucking mutant guy on Smallville a few
weeks ago, decides against it* Anyway, I have three more things to say. #1:
Yes, I KNOW I should be working on Call and Answer. I finally have another
(extremely short, but hey, at least I finally wrote it) part done, but I
left it at my boyfriend's house. #2: This is gonna be short, but may end up
in chapters anyway. So sue me. #3. Sorry about megashortnessness of first
chapter.
Oh yeah, the DISCLAIMER! They aren't mine. If you didn't know that, well, you're pretty stupid.
~*~*~*~
Prison Buddies
~*~*~*~
It was really no use fighting.
He let the dementors carry him off, their touch like ice cubes even through his robes. They carried him down a dimly lit stone hallway and up a flight of stairs. Everything was gray and it was so cold. This upstairs hallway was oddly silent. The gray stone walls, the dim, flickering light, the chill in the air, he had expected. But the halls of Azkaban should echo with the screams and cries of the prisoners, not this eerie silence.
The dementors stopped suddenly, having reached his cell. One of them lifted a cloaked hand and simply pushed aside the heavy, barred door. He was shoved roughly inside and the door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the prison, seemingly louder and louder, until finally it died away.
He looked around the cell-his new home. It was even darker than the halls had been. A tiny, barred window up near the ceiling gave a small patch of light on the ground. In one corner there was a bare, grayish mattress that he guessed would serve as his bed. And in the other…
He had known Azkaban was crowded. The war was raging, and hundreds of Death Eaters had been captured. Had he ever stopped to think about it, he would have realized that the chances were good that he would be sharing a cell with one of them. But of course he had had other things on his mind and was completely unprepared for the sight before him. He blinked hard, as if the figure of the young man before him might be simply a figure of his imagination. But the silver-gray eyes still met his own, eyes that looked partly pleased, partly surprised, but mostly just empty. Blank. But even Azkaban could not remove the smirk from his old enemy's face.
"So," Draco drawled, not moving from his position almost curled up on the similarly dingy mattress in his corner, "the famous Harry Potter, imprisoned in Azkaban." He continued to stare at Harry almost expectantly. "My father would have loved this…unfortunately, he'§ not here to enjoy it." He sounded almost bitter, and Harry found himself wondering why. Which led to wondering why he cared. "So," Draco continued, "What you do to be thrown in here? Surely you haven't joined the Death Eaters…haven't got enough sense to join the winning side." Harry could think of a few replies to that, especially considering the fact that he was standing in a cell in a prison full of Death Eaters, but he was too tired to be drawn into a verbal war with Malfoy, especially considering the fact that they were both going to be in this room for a long, long time. Maybe if he simply ignored the other boy's taunts, Malfoy would shut up and leave him in peace. Yeah, right, he thought as he flopped down silently on the mattress, rolled over to face the wall and drifted off to sleep, that last thought in his mind before he dropped off being the look in Malfoy's eyes. Had he been imagining things, or had the other boy looked almost disappointed when he didn't respond?
~*~*~*~
At first Harry's dreams were pleasant: escape from this hell on earth was a common one, but there were also dreams of his times with his friends at Hogwarts, and afterwards. But soon the old nightmares returned, too: flashes of green light, and screaming-screaming…But now there was another sound. A soft sobbing, in the background, so quiet he wasn't even sure he had really heard it. But yes-there it was-someone was crying.
He awoke. There was no green light, no screaming-but the nearly- silent sobbing continued in the darkness. He had always read about people being disoriented the first time they woke up in a strange place, but he knew exactly where he was-remembering was easy, it was the forgetting that was impossible, and whoever was crying, he didn't blame them one bit. But the sound seemed to be coming from very nearby…
"Hello?" he whispered, unsure of exactly what to say to an unknown, crying person. "Who's there?" There was no answer. Suddenly a thought struck him. No one could possibly be out of their cells in the middle of the night. It had to be…but it couldn't be…
"Malfoy?" There was still no response, but the noises ceased.
Oh yeah, the DISCLAIMER! They aren't mine. If you didn't know that, well, you're pretty stupid.
~*~*~*~
Prison Buddies
~*~*~*~
It was really no use fighting.
He let the dementors carry him off, their touch like ice cubes even through his robes. They carried him down a dimly lit stone hallway and up a flight of stairs. Everything was gray and it was so cold. This upstairs hallway was oddly silent. The gray stone walls, the dim, flickering light, the chill in the air, he had expected. But the halls of Azkaban should echo with the screams and cries of the prisoners, not this eerie silence.
The dementors stopped suddenly, having reached his cell. One of them lifted a cloaked hand and simply pushed aside the heavy, barred door. He was shoved roughly inside and the door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the prison, seemingly louder and louder, until finally it died away.
He looked around the cell-his new home. It was even darker than the halls had been. A tiny, barred window up near the ceiling gave a small patch of light on the ground. In one corner there was a bare, grayish mattress that he guessed would serve as his bed. And in the other…
He had known Azkaban was crowded. The war was raging, and hundreds of Death Eaters had been captured. Had he ever stopped to think about it, he would have realized that the chances were good that he would be sharing a cell with one of them. But of course he had had other things on his mind and was completely unprepared for the sight before him. He blinked hard, as if the figure of the young man before him might be simply a figure of his imagination. But the silver-gray eyes still met his own, eyes that looked partly pleased, partly surprised, but mostly just empty. Blank. But even Azkaban could not remove the smirk from his old enemy's face.
"So," Draco drawled, not moving from his position almost curled up on the similarly dingy mattress in his corner, "the famous Harry Potter, imprisoned in Azkaban." He continued to stare at Harry almost expectantly. "My father would have loved this…unfortunately, he'§ not here to enjoy it." He sounded almost bitter, and Harry found himself wondering why. Which led to wondering why he cared. "So," Draco continued, "What you do to be thrown in here? Surely you haven't joined the Death Eaters…haven't got enough sense to join the winning side." Harry could think of a few replies to that, especially considering the fact that he was standing in a cell in a prison full of Death Eaters, but he was too tired to be drawn into a verbal war with Malfoy, especially considering the fact that they were both going to be in this room for a long, long time. Maybe if he simply ignored the other boy's taunts, Malfoy would shut up and leave him in peace. Yeah, right, he thought as he flopped down silently on the mattress, rolled over to face the wall and drifted off to sleep, that last thought in his mind before he dropped off being the look in Malfoy's eyes. Had he been imagining things, or had the other boy looked almost disappointed when he didn't respond?
~*~*~*~
At first Harry's dreams were pleasant: escape from this hell on earth was a common one, but there were also dreams of his times with his friends at Hogwarts, and afterwards. But soon the old nightmares returned, too: flashes of green light, and screaming-screaming…But now there was another sound. A soft sobbing, in the background, so quiet he wasn't even sure he had really heard it. But yes-there it was-someone was crying.
He awoke. There was no green light, no screaming-but the nearly- silent sobbing continued in the darkness. He had always read about people being disoriented the first time they woke up in a strange place, but he knew exactly where he was-remembering was easy, it was the forgetting that was impossible, and whoever was crying, he didn't blame them one bit. But the sound seemed to be coming from very nearby…
"Hello?" he whispered, unsure of exactly what to say to an unknown, crying person. "Who's there?" There was no answer. Suddenly a thought struck him. No one could possibly be out of their cells in the middle of the night. It had to be…but it couldn't be…
"Malfoy?" There was still no response, but the noises ceased.