Voldemort, the Dark Bastard, had cursed me himself. If I had been captured by the Order and even sent to Azkaban, they would know. Everyone would know that Voldemort was still alive, and fuck, he couldn't have that, now could he? No, I was the best-kept secret, and the Death Eaters resented it.

"Tell them." The Dark Bastard hissed to whoever was tending him that day, and I sagged in relief when Greyback released me. I would have sobbed, if I could have.

"As far as Mr Malfoy is concerned, you shall not touch him again. He will no longer suffer your abuses. Any wizard that disobeys the Dark Lord shall consider his life forfeit." I knew that voice. I remembered that voice. Zabini, Blaise Zabini, he sounded the way I felt, and I would have felt sorry for him, but I was too busy feeling sorry for me.

There was a rumble in the small gathering of Death Eaters, but it soon dissipated. I was suddenly covered in a thick, fur-lined cloak, and offered a goblet of crisp, cool water. I hadn't eaten or drank anything cool, or even hot, in years upon years, and it was a blessing.

I assumed there was to be some sort of Death Eater meeting, but I was no longer privy to such things. Gentle hands led me back down to my cell, and I struggled to keep from sagging against my escort. I wanted to feel relieved, but I wasn't stupid.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy." It was Blaise, and I didn't know what to say. I couldn't say it was all right, it wasn't. I couldn't say anything at all, so I didn't. "I've sent instructions for your accommodations to be…improved. The house elves were happy to help." I knew he tacked on that last bit only because I was hyperventilating.

The Death Eaters were not to enter my cell. The Dark Bastard had declared it off-limits, not the mention the protections, but I doubt they knew about them. Death Eaters were not the brightest bunch. Of course, they worked around the rules and often enticed me to willingly leave by threatening the other prisoners. At least they had when there were other prisoners, but now it was just me.

There weren't other prisoners any longer, and I was glad for it, but it was a bit lonely. I wouldn't lie and say I missed the sounds of their sobbing, but it did make me feel less alone. There was only me. Well, now, there was her as well, but she wouldn't last. They never did, and if things went well, I'd get her out. It was the least I could do.

"Oh my gods. What have they done to you?"

It sounded as though she was actually concerned for me. It was nice to have someone fuss over me. I'd forgotten what concern even sounded like. I missed my mother.

Zabini hefted me through the opening and hissed as the enchantments sizzled his dark skin. I probably should have warned him, but I didn't. Fuck him.

My knees gave out, and I expected to crash to the stone, but surprisingly there was a tiny little witch keeping me aloft. She huffed, groaning under my weight, but I couldn't help her. I couldn't even help myself.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Zabini whispered, and I was levitating toward the cot.

"Thank you."

She really was fucking polite. She had to be a Gryffindor. A Hufflepuff would have been crying already, a Slytherin wouldn't have cared, and a Ravenclaw wouldn't have been caught in the first place.

"Don't." I managed to rasp.

She was pushing on my new cloak, but I didn't want her to see. I didn't want anyone to see. It was humiliating. I was ashamed.

"It's dark as pitch in here. I can't see anything anyway, but it's obvious you need to be healed." Ugh, logic, and she wasn't wrong. I think I preferred it when she was silent.

"I could light the lamps." Zabini hadn't left. I wondered if there was a perverse sort of pleasure for him, watching me being tended, as broken as I was.

"Don't you fucking dare." I groaned, whimpering even as the witch smeared some thick sort of salve on my bareback.

I could feel the cloak on the backs of my thighs, but I knew it was only a matter of time before she discovered the source of my pain. My back was littered in slashes, and I was sure they were bleeding, but I couldn't allow her to do much more. Despite everything, I still had my pride.

"I don't understand." She sighed, gasping as her hand dropped onto the cloak. "I've got to remove this. It's soaked through. Oh, gods…"

I rolled onto my side and drew my knees up to my chest. Everything hurt less that way. I didn't want to hear her dismay. I wanted her to go away and sit in the corner. I wanted her to pretend I was fine, but she didn't.

"You can't do this to people! It's absolutely inhumane! He needs a Blood Replenishing Potion. He needs a Pain Potion. He needs an actual bed, with clean linens. He could probably do with a Numbing Potion as well. If you're going to abuse him, the least you can do is tend to him afterwards. You're all a bunch of savages!" She had fire in her, and she was using that fire for me. She shouldn't. I wasn't worth it.

"I didn't want this. I didn't ask for this. I got captured just the same as you." Zabini sounded as defeated as I felt.

I don't think she was expecting that bit of information. I supposed she thought we were all just willing Death Eaters, frolicking in the blood of our enemies, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

"Even so, you could help him." Her fingers were combing through my hair, and her simple little act was calming.

"I'll see what I can do." As I was drifting off, I heard the squeaky voice of a house elf and an adamant witch barking orders.

I was vaguely aware of being warm, when I regained consciousness. I didn't move, afraid it was a dream. My head was surrounded by something soft, and I sighed.

"I don't know what else to do." She was whispering, and her lips were brushing my forehead.

"You've done all you can. Unless of course, you're willing to do what that Abbott bint did." Blaise chuckled, and I knew he was sitting on the floor outside my cell.

"You knew Hannah? What did she do? She wasn't particularly forthcoming when it came to certain details, but she warned me…" She wiped my face and neck with a cool cloth and tucked the thick blankets around me, before moving away.

"What the fuck are you doing here? You're…"

"Don't say my name. He doesn't want to know who I am, and I have to respect that." She cut him off and Blaise didn't even shout at her, which would have impressed me under different circumstances.

"Aye, and protect yourself at the same time. His last companion made him human. She fussed over him, more than a little. She offered herself to him as well, but he turned her down. He got her out. I still don't know how he did it, but one day she was just gone. He was easier to break afterwards. They tortured him for days before the Dark Lord discovered what they were doing to his prize. It took a month to fix him up proper." Blaise sighed and I imagined him rubbing his forehead in distress.

"She was quite fond of him. I think she still is. They don't trust her anymore, but I understand now. He's different. He's…"

"Awake," I interjected. I didn't want to listen to them speak of me any longer. I wanted to move as my body was so stiff, from lying about for who bloody knows how long.

"It's about fucking time. I've got to report. I suspect I'll see you again." I listened for the sounds of Zabini's boots thumping on the stairs and released the breath I'd been holding.

She was tinkling with some bottles, and I heard them clinking. I didn't speak, and neither did she, not for quite some time. I felt her near me, felt her little fingers prodding my chest and poking my shoulder. I turned on my side, wincing, but I wasn't in pain.

She wrenched down the blankets and inspected my back, causing me to shiver in the cold air. I stopped her hands at my waist. She didn't need to investigate further. She shoved my hands away and tore the blankets off.

"Look. You've been out of commission for a week. I've bathed you for Merlin's sake and…"

"You…bathed…me?" I instantly hated that idea. My chest was immediately tight as I couldn't help but wonder if Blaise had illuminated the lamps.

"Breathe, it was in the dark, but someone had to do it. I couldn't leave you crusted in blood, and the house elf refused to touch you." She was standing beside me, and I deduced I was in a bed. I was lying in a real bed, with crisp sheets and feather pillows.

"You washed all of me?" I managed to sit up and discovered there was a wooden headboard to lean against. What the hell had she been doing while I was incapacitated?

"Y-yes. It really was necessary. I was…training to be a Healer before…and, it was completely professional." She sniffed and I imagined a haughty, sort of condescending sneer on her lips.

"You wash my cock as well?" I was being rude, but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to help it.

I was angry. I felt violated, which is humorous if you think about it. The great Death Eater toy felt violated from being washed. Yes, fucking hilarious.

"It was necessary. You were completely crusted in dried blood. I needed to assess the damage…" She sighed, and I felt her sit on the corner of the bed.

"Did it…work?" My cock and I had parted ways years ago. It no longer functioned the way you'd imagine it should. It did what was necessary and nothing more than that. It saved me from lusting after the various witches littering my dreams, but even so, it was depressing.

"N-no…"

"I didn't think so." My shoulders slumped, and I threaded my fingers together. There wasn't anything to say after that.

"You should rest. You've been through quite an ordeal." She was yanking the blankets up my bare chest and fluffing my pillows. You'd think I was an actual patient.

I listened to her prattle on about our new accommodations. She was particularly thrilled with the bed linens and heavy blankets. The soaking tub just behind the magical loo didn't hurt any either. I could hear the smile on her lips, and it puzzled me.

She should have been furious to be sharing anything with me. She should have treated me like filth. I am filth. She reminded me of…Hannah. I hated knowing that witch's name. I preferred the anonymity. I didn't want to remember her from our years in Hogwarts.

I didn't want to remember her long blonde hair and her warm brown eyes. I didn't want to remember the way she'd never sneered at me. I didn't want to remember her soft voice and her sweet disposition.

I especially didn't want to remember the way she had laid beside me. The soft sighs of her breath being expelled against my chest. The hesitancy in her voice when she offered herself to me, as if I deserved her, as if taking her body would be payment for my kindnesses.

I didn't want to remember her soft lips on my cheek just before I led her to safety. She promised she'd come for me. She promised she wouldn't just leave me there to rot. I had almost believed her. I had wanted to believe her, but, that was four hundred and fifty days ago. I didn't believe her anymore.

I don't know how it happened. She just started climbing into the four-poster bed with me. I didn't object, I never objected. I think we both expected the other to voice displeasure, but neither of us did.

The moment she fell asleep, I would touch her. It wasn't lewd and lascivious. It was merely a way for me to cling to the last vestiges of my humanity. Sometimes, it was just a palm on her back, other nights I blatantly held her hand.

I missed my mother. I desperately missed my mother, but I was glad she wasn't here to see me like this. I was so fucking lonely, I probably would have cuddled with McGonagall if given the chance.

"Why did you turn her down?" She had started speaking to me once we were in bed. It was a way to pass the time, but it was strange. It reminded me of pillow talk, and I missed that as well.

"She would have regretted it."

It was true. Hannah would have regretted it. I had listened her to speak about Neville Longbottom for one hundred of the one hundred and sixty days she spent in my cell. She hoped to be able to return to him. She never said his name, but it wasn't difficult to discern the truth. I mean, who else is a clumsy oaf with an affinity for Herbology?

"You've changed."

I was toying with her hair. I liked her hair. It was ridiculously short, but it was slowly growing. It was also curling, which made me constantly guess as to her identity, but I'd never ask.

"I suspect you have as well. War and imprisonment does that to a person." I couldn't see her in the dark, but I knew she was closer than usual. I touched her cheek, and she didn't flinch away from me. "Do you…have someone waiting for you? Is that what's getting you through?"

"What's getting you through?" She shifted a bit, and her bare leg grazed mine.

The gooseflesh that freckled my skin surprised me. It had been years since my body had done anything more than function. I wanted to reach between us and stroke her skin, but I resisted. It was better for us both if I kept my distance.

"You're avoiding the question." I flopped onto my back and shoved my arm beneath my pillow. If I didn't, I was going to do something I regretted. The last thing I needed was to add to the growing list. "Nothing. I don't know. In the beginning, it was my anger, I was so fucking furious. Of course, the resounding screams of the others only fueled…everything. Then, one day they were just…gone. It was slowly at first, but in the end, it was just me. I screamed quite often, it didn't help." I sighed, but it was more like a groan.

I listened carefully and heard her slide her pillow closer. Her cold hand was touching my chest, and I felt her breath on my cheek. She didn't ask, she just rested her head on my chest, like it was something she'd always done. She tossed her leg across mine, and her fingers were strumming, just over my heart.

"And then Hannah came."

"Well, yes but also no. She wasn't the first witch I had released. She was the first to share my cell. I'm not going to tell you how I did it. Your time will come. I swear it."

"Don't swear." There was something achingly familiar about those simple little words.

I couldn't place her, and believe me, I'd tried. She definitely wasn't Slytherin, but she was cunning in her own way. She was fascinatingly brilliant, which really was a delightful change from simply listening to Greg's blunders.

"What are you doing?" Her thigh was incredibly warm draped across mine, and she was continuously stretching her leg, and dragging it back to its previous position.

"You've never once tried to guess who I am." I shivered, but it definitely wasn't from the cold.

I had taken to sleeping without a shirt. She harped on me for covering my injuries, declaring they needed air in order to heal. Personally, I thought it was utter and complete bollocks, but it was easier to agree than to argue with her. She was always right. I was always wrong. She always knew the answers to everything, and I could just imagine her with her hand raised high over her head, begging the Professors to call on her….fuck.

"You never speak about yourself or your mates. Surely you must have them." I ignored the way my body responded to her subtle little touches.

"I think they're dead." She turned from me, flopping onto her other side, and I knew she was hurt. "I was…busy at the safe house. They were suspicious. They were always suspicious, and this time they weren't wrong. Kingsley said they…couldn't resist the allure of the hunt. They couldn't believe it was all over, and Hannah returning just…bolstered their confidences. I didn't believe them. I tried to talk them out of it, I always did, but they were tired of listening to reason. They waited until I was busy…and they just…they just left me behind." She sniffled, and I knew she was silently crying.

Despite my aloof nature, I couldn't stand the sound of a witch's tears. The first night Hannah spent on my cot was due to her incessant crying. This time was different, I suppose. Hesitantly, I crossed the small space between us and touched her shoulder.

Apparently, it was the correct thing to do, since almost immediately my arms were filled with sobbing witch. She clung to me, swallowing her sobs against my chest. My mother would have been proud. I shushed her, and held her tight, patting the soft cotton on her back.

"They're probably not dead. You're pretty fucking brilliant, even if you are a bit of a know-it-all, therefore I'd have to believe your mates aren't complete imbeciles." I was pretty much utter and complete shit at comfort, but she laughed.

The top of her head brushed against my chin, and I knew she was wiping the tears from her eyes. The comfortable silence we had lived in, was suddenly very uncomfortable, and I had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with our suggestive positions. I didn't want to move, I liked the way she felt, more than I should have.

"How long have I been here?" I was hesitant to answer, but only because she was so fucking close.

"Ninety-seven days." I managed to speak through my teeth without moving my lips.

"I like this." She touched my chest, her palm brushing across my left nipple, and I inhaled deeply through my nose. "I shouldn't like this."

"Please, do tell me all about it." I was trying to be flippant, but I was failing miserably. My skin was hot, and I swore I could feel my pulse in my cock.

"I shouldn't like this…because of who you are…because of who I am." She kissed my collarbone and my fingers dug into her hip. "You're blind aren't you?"

"Fifty points to Gryffindor." I was floundering in uncharted territory.

I wanted to push her away as much as I wanted to draw her closer. The soft cotton t-shirt she had taken to wearing rode high on her hip, and I struggled to keep from crinkling it in my fist. The tips of my fingers grazed the back of her thigh, and she gasped against my throat.

"How did you know?"

"Logical deduction. You're not devious enough to be Slytherin. You're wicked smart, and you care loads, but you struck out on your own after your mates deserted you, which just screams Gryffindor." I was literally speaking against her lips, and her breaths were growing shorter.

"Do you know who I am, Malfoy?" She'd never alluded to my name, not in all the days we'd spent conversing. I didn't hate it.

"I have my suspicions, but, I'll let you in a little secret." I rolled her onto her back, and I could definitely feel my cock twitching. It made me feel powerful, it made me feel whole. "I. Don't. Care."

Of course, I kissed her. I'd like to say it was a romantic, heart-stopping experience, but it wasn't. It was accidentally hitting her chin, and laughter with mumbled apologies. It was her knee grazing my cock just a little too hard, and groans. It was soft breaths and tongues and hands investigating every inch of exposed skin as well. Don't get me wrong, it was hot as fuck, but it wasn't perfect, but then again, neither were we.

We were broken shells of the people we used to be. We were hiding in the darkness, finding comfort in the only companion nearby. We were falling headlong into an abyss that neither of us knew had an end or even a beginning.

I was losing myself in a witch whose face I hadn't seen, but whose soul spoke volumes to mine. I was breaking all of the rules I had so vehemently set for myself. I wasn't remaining apathetic and aloof. I wasn't ignoring her, I was drowning in her. I was fucked.