Chapter Seven

"Cell Mates"

Harry could tell it was Lucius Malfoy by the time the door was unlocked. The man's long blond hair made him more recognizable by far than any of the other Death Eaters. And there was someone with him this time. Malfoy had his wand on a dark-haired stranger, moving him into the prison. Harry didn't dare lean any further out from behind his pillar to get a better look; he still felt rather weak, and his mind seemed to be moving more slowly than usual from being under the magical constraint of the frenums… but he wanted so badly to know who it was Malfoy had at wandpoint.

He leaned face-forward against the pillar, one hand gripping the vertical edge, and squinted tensely through the darkness. He wondered if they would hear his heart hammering in his chest, but Malfoy was preoccupied. He was extracting something from inside of his robes, keeping his wand on the other man's back the whole time.

Harry saw a glinting, bluish light. His heart skipped a beat. He could only hope he wouldn't be wearing those chains again.

Malfoy pushed the dark-haired man up against the wall, shackling his wrists to pegs above his head. The other man didn't seem to be resisting, though his posture didn't convey defeat; Harry thought the man seemed rather unconcerned, whoever he might be, and his eyes were raking the shadows in Harry's direction.

Harry pulled closer to the stone pillar, trying to see more clearly.

Then Malfoy finished securing the frenums, straightened up, and lit his wand. A shaft of light fell across his captive's shadowy figure, illuminating a hooked nose, pale skin, and shoulder length black hair.

Harry didn't believe it at first—it couldn't be…

But he couldn't deny what his own eyes were seeing.

He stared across the room in shock at Professor Snape. Amazingly, Snape was currently regarding the other man with supreme indifference as Malfoy directed his wandlight toward the back of the dungeon, wielding it from left to right, his eyes piercing the gloom.

Harry quickly withdrew behind the pillar again, leaning his back against it and breathing as quietly as he could.

"Time to come out, Potter," Malfoy said in a quietly carrying voice.

Harry didn't move or make a sound. He heard Malfoy take a few steps in his direction, bringing him closer to Harry's pillar, his boots clicking softly on the floor.

"Don't waste any more of my time," called Malfoy, stepping closer still. "We're not playing games."

Harry, on the other hand, preferred to keep their little game of hide and seek going for as long as he could, because as far as he knew it would be closely followed by his own death. He had no intention of making it any easier for Malfoy to take him anywhere.

But there's nowhere to go, a nervous voice in his head reminded him. He cast another glance behind him. He had, indeed, run out of dungeon in which to hide. He guessed that Malfoy was now maybe a dozen yards from his corner, steadily narrowing the gap.

Click…

click…

click…

Harry considered his choices: he could remain here until Malfoy discovered him, which would take all of about fifteen more seconds. He could step out from behind the pillar and meet Malfoy, resulting in an unknown but surely horrible outcome. He could try for a desperate ambush attack on Malfoy…

Ka-click, ka-click, ka-click, ka-click—

Malfoy took the last few steps in haste, swinging his wand around to point directly at Harry, who was taken by surprise. He lurched backward into the wall, and stared at Malfoy through the eerie light of the wand.

"Come out, come out, Potter," whispered Malfoy mockingly through lips that were curled in a sneer, his eyes glinting over his wand at Harry. The man smiled, and took two more steps in Harry's direction. "Incarcero!" He barked suddenly.

Cords shot from the end of his wand to bind themselves tightly around Harry's wrists, tethering his arms behind his back. Harry overbalanced and would have fallen, if Malfoy hadn't suddenly been there, gripping his upper arm, wrenching him away from the wall—

Harry was supported entirely by Malfoy's grasp for a moment. He was dragged across the floor, without a chance to get his feet underneath him—and then his feet found the ground, and he bent at the waist, trying to slow their progress, to no avail. Malfoy was much bigger and stronger, and it was only a second before Harry had been overpowered again.

There was a sharp pain between Harry's shoulder blades where Malfoy's wand dug in, and the man's other hand shoved Harry forward by the nape of the neck, his fingers catching in Harry's hair to keep him controlled. Harry tripped, stumbling, but Malfoy heaved him back up.

Harry couldn't bring himself to look over at Snape as they reached the front of the dungeon. With his eyes on the ground, he could see they were now level with the pegs where the Death Eaters had first tied him.

Malfoy stopped jostling him, and his hand left the back of Harry's neck. Harry glanced to the side, and was about to turn and look when without warning, Malfoy's weight was bearing down on him from behind.

Harry felt kicks to the backs of his legs and they buckled; he crashed to his knees on the stones and bent forward, unable to use his arms to stop himself from falling. Malfoy knelt behind him and grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head again, viciously pulling him upright. Harry gasped as Malfoy kept pulling—now his neck and back were arched, his head drawn jarringly back against Malfoy's shoulder.

Malfoy stared triumphantly down at the Boy Who Lived, his eyes afire, both their chests heaving. Potter's wide eyes stared back, reflecting the light from the wand Malfoy held beside his cheek. He had stopped struggling as hard, evidently recognizing defeat… Malfoy felt pride and satisfaction, and he didn't want to relinquish his power over the boy so soon…

He used his wand to gently brush Harry's bangs away from the scar on his forehead. Harry shuddered at the touch. He felt the sting of the wandtip on his scar move in waves down its lightning shape. Then, Malfoy trailed the wand tip across Harry's brow, down his temple. He saw Potter cringe ever so slightly as he traced the wandtip down his jaw line, and his neck…

Harry recoiled, exhaling angrily, but Malfoy held him fast. He tried to twist away again, gritting his teeth.

Snape snarled something, but Harry didn't know what—his struggling seemed to have angered Malfoy, who jerked him roughly back to his feet. Harry swung forward in an attempt to dodge away from Malfoy, but the tall, blond Death Eater was right behind him, and used Harry's momentum to throw the boy headlong into the stone wall.

Malfoy heard a crack when Potter's head hit the stone, and he watched the boy crumple to the floor. He lay there for a prolonged moment without moving, and Malfoy waited, his excitement at its peak.

Harry fought to lift himself onto his elbows. He could feel something warm and wet flowing freely down his temple past his eye. Shaking and feeling dazed, he met Malfoy's eyes.

"Are you tired of playing, Potter?" Malfoy asked breathlessly.

Harry managed to sit up. In his peripheral vision he could see Snape, no more than ten feet to his right. He kept his eyes on Malfoy. His face was pale and his shoulders trembled, but his eyes were mutinous. "I'd rather play games with you here than upstairs with Voldemort," he whispered.

Malfoy made a funny hissing sound from between his teeth. "You are very brave, Potter, to speak the Dark Lord's name…"

"Not brave," Harry muttered breathlessly. "Just tired of people expecting me to talk about Voldemort like he's some kind of special! I don't see what's so great about having great ugly slits for a nose, and Lord in your name—"

"Be quiet, Potter!" The hissed order came from Professor Snape.

Harry, effectively taken aback, stopped speaking. It was just as well, because Malfoy had begun to advance on him dangerously.

"Get up, Potter," Malfoy commanded, poison dripping from his voice. Harry shifted against the wall, wondering if he was capable of standing—the last thing he wanted to do was to try, and fail. To look weak in front of Malfoy was something Harry wanted to avoid at any cost.

Malfoy took his hesitation as noncompliance. With an aggressive flick of his wand, Malfoy had Harry in the air, his feet several inches off the ground. Malfoy flew forward, his hair whipping out behind him, and pinned Harry against the stone.

Malfoy's nose was mere inches away from Harry's. "I wouldn't speak of the Dark Lord in that way," Malfoy growled, his hot breath washing over Harry's face. Malfoy released the strangle hold and Harry spluttered and choked, his eyes streaming. Then, with absurd ease, Malfoy seized Harry by his bound arms and flung him back to the floor, this time toward the middle of the room.

Harry landed roughly on his back between the pegs. Right before hitting the stones he felt the ropes binding his arms come loose and his hands sprang free from underneath him. His heart soared for an instant—and then Malfoy was on top of him, using his full weight to hold Harry still, yanking his arms up above his head where they were shackled to the pegs, just like before.

Harry kicked out in an attempt to dislodge Malfoy. His knees hit Malfoy's back with absolutely no effect, but a moment later, Malfoy had swung off him and bent over his legs. He applied shackles there as well. By the time he was done with the bindings, Harry was no longer struggling.

After one last adjustment at Harry's feet, Malfoy stood with a gentle rustling of his black cloak. He straightened the front of his robes, gazing down at Harry, and a shaft of light dimly illuminated the excited expression on his face. Harry looked back into Malfoy's piercing, gray eyes, his cheeks burning with humiliation.

"I would consider myself lucky, were I in your place, Potter," sneered Malfoy vehemently. Then, turning around, he threw a dark look in Snape's direction. "And you, Snape—I look forward to hearing your thoughts on those frenums." He indicated the shackles. "I hear they are excruciating. Just ask Potter… though I daresay you'll know for yourself soon enough."

Snape's black eyes snapped with fury, promising Malfoy hurt and pain. He spat on the floor toward Malfoy's feet.

Malfoy laughed softly. "Until later, then," he said. He swept out of the dungeon, up the stairs, and out of sight.

Silence began to press painfully on Harry's eardrums after a few minutes.

He stared guardedly up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling rapidly with silent breathing. His head pounded harshly where it had hit the stone wall, and he was fighting the impulse to turn and look toward Snape. He felt too ashamed, too ridiculous, lying there sprawled on the floor… but he could feel Snape's eyes burning into the side of his face.

"What's your condition, Potter?" Snape's abrupt voice sounded, making Harry jump. He finally turned to look, and his head gave a particularly nasty throb as he did so.

Snape was watching him, his expression unreadable. "Are you injured?" He pushed impatiently.

Harry felt a fresh rivulet of blood trickle past his ear. He shook his head no.

Snape looked neither relieved nor upset by this. Harry, who was feeling immensely tired, looked away from him. He couldn't bring himself to question Snape… he was bewildered about what the professor was doing there, but his head was throbbing, and the dungeon seemed cold and blurry around the edges…

"Don't fall asleep, Potter," Snape's voice ordered him.

Harry vaguely wondered why.

"You probably have a concussion," explained Snape of his own accord. "Potter! I told you not to fall asleep!"

Harry's eyes came open again, but the room was still fading. He was falling asleep, whether he wanted to, or not.

Snape studied Harry. The boy looked horrid—his black hair was a mess, and his shirt was covered in dirt and blood.

But Snape couldn't deny that Potter was lucky. For now, he had been left here in the dungeon. Snape wondered what was happening about Wormtail, and how long it would take Dumbledore to organize the rescue. He felt a glimmer of shame—he'd rendered himself useless by being caught. Now there was one more thing for the Order to worry about, on top of getting the Potter boy out.

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