The gentle hiss of decaying fabric, the tiniest moan of something that used to be human. The whisper of death.
These sounds, even through the fog.
Draco Malfoy wasnt sure when he had lost his eyesight and sunk into the fog. He didn't remember how long he had been in the fog. He just knew the fog, and knew that the fog wasn't inturupted by anything. Light. Sound. Dreams. Even the cries and screams of the pour souls lost in the fog on either side of him inturrpted it anymore. They used to. But not anymore. The fog is impenetrable.
And Draco was helpless against it.
He used to cry, scream, moan, writhe. Anything to get the fog away, to escape the fog. To live again. But day after day, month after month, hour after hour, and the realization that he didn't exist anymore and never would again for the rest of his life sunk into Draco and he learned to accept his fate with open arms. Willingly sinking back into the fog and almost welcoming its hateful tendrils of despair, craving the numbness like a lovers touch.
He didn't need to eat. He didn't need to see. Just breathe. Allow the fog into him as well as blanket him, and he could stay here for the rest of his life hugging the stone wall that was the only thing in existence that hadn't screamed or hurt him. He could float.
All he did was float now.
He wasnt altogether sure of his name anymore, convinced that he merely part of the fog. Which was why he didnt answer when the snarl of his name was thrown at him through the bars of his cell.
He didnt notice the continued scream of his name untill something had cut solidly through the fog and had snatched him up by his hair. He had cried out, an ugly garbled sound. He didn't remember the last time he had used his voice.
"Get up Death Eater." The voice snarled, yanking him up to his shaking feet. He didn't remember the last time he had stood up. He crawled nowadays. He struggled to remember how when the hand in his hair gave another violent yank and he whimpered as he was finally pushed to his feet.
"Lazy fuck." The voice growled as the forgotten hiss of magic swirled around Draco and he could feel something rough around his wrists, binding them together and pulling him forward. He doesnt remember that he should be moving his feet and suddenly the ground is rushing up to meet him, and the shock of pain that flared up from where his face connected with the floor forced another cry from him.
He's rewarded with another snarl and he's dragged up roughly from his position on the floor by the tattered remains of fabric at his neck. He remembers himself this time and manages not to fall over again as for the first time he can remember, he is led out of the fog and into the hallway he can sometimes see through the barred door. He
stumbles behind the voice as he was dragged down the hallway by his bound wrists. It's still dark and he cant open his eyes. He hears the whimpers and moans of those dying around him. A hiss that sounds like words. He's so tired.
He's drifting off in his head when his face slams agianst moist stone again and another series of curses rain down on him. His jaw throbs and and his hair is given another violent yank as he's dragged up a narrow flight of steps. He's pushed in front of his dragger and he feels the this skin of his bare feet tear against the uneven stone of the floor.
After an eternity Draco is shoved through a door and is assulted by a blinding light, almost painful in its intensity and he raises his hands to shield his eyes which screw up against the lights attack, as soon as he raises his hands they are yanked down again and a blow lands on the back of his head. Draco sobs quietly, suddenly wishing for the fog's whispering touch, so gentle in comparison.
A scuffle distracts him and he notices the pressure on his wrists is gone, they're still tied but he can move them. He raises them to his face.
"Hit him again and i'll do everything in my power to make sure you take his place, understood?" A voice, low, angry.
"Yes sir, my apologies." His dragger, now sounding so pathetic in the face of the angry stranger.
"This is prisoner 429753 D. Malfoy as you requested correct sir?" Another voice, strict and curt. Malfoy. It had been forever since Draco had heard that word.
"Yes, and why is he in this condition. his incarcenment was supposed to be temporary." The low voice again, dripping with agitation. Draco tried to open his eyes and the light sent daggers of pain shooting through his skull and the darkness began to spin.
"Three years is hardly temporary Mr-"
"Its also hardly an excuse for this. Why is he tied up" The low voice cut off the stern one and Draco's knees began to shake.
"He's a dangerous Death Eater sir-"
"He looks dead on his feet, Untie him."
"Sir-"
"Now." A chill runs down Draco's back and he can feel the blood rush back to his wrists as the ropes are removed. He wrapes his arms around himself, hugging himself tightly
"I assume you have the documents for his release ready for me?" the low voice demands.
Release?
"Yes sir, if you'll just-"
Draco's breathing began to speed up and his head grew heavy as his knees finally gave out under him, release? From the fog?
No.
Panic swallowed him and he clawed at his hair in desperation. He couldn't leave the fog. What else was there? He could feel the earth falling out from under him and a scream was building in his throat when he hit something solid, and he realized with a shock that it was a pair of arms.
How long had it been since he had contact with another human being?
Draco struggled agianst the arms that suddenly felt like restraints, the arm that wanted him to leave the fog. He yelps when a strong hand catches his wrist and he can feel the fragile bone groan in protest.
"Easy Draco, you're fine, just relax."
Draco. now that was a word he hadnt heard in what felt like a life time. The
low voice that sends the tiniest shred of familiarity gnawing into Draco's brain continues its soft murmur in Draco's ear until he stops shaking and is raised back to his feet. The arms leave him and Draco pulls his arms back around him, the blood pounding in his ears.
"Better make it Thursday instead." The voice says and Draco panics agian. Thursday? Well what was today? Three years? Three years of what?
"Yes of course Mr. Potter-"
Potter?
Another thrill of sheer terror flies through Draco and its suddenly too much and he hears more shouts before his face connects with the cold floor and the fog comes back to catch him in its embrace.
And he floats once more.