The crowd split.
They knew me well. They didn't fuck around with me.
I heard the shuffle of footsteps behind me, coupled with that horrid wheezing.
The ladies serving us lunch didn't meet my eyes, didn't look at me at all.
What a job. Serving half frozen food to prisoners.
Pushing our way back out, I took my usual seat in the middle, tearing into the mostly raw steak on my plate.
The blood used to bother me. Didn't anymore.
I had developed a taste for it.
There was a sharp sting on my arm as the mongrel next to me smacked my bicep in an attempt to attract my attention.
I pushed him roughly from his seat, chuckling once he hit the floor with an indignant yell, but looked in the direction he had been motioning to.
I recognized him. I had seen a picture of him years before this moment. His bangs pushed to the side, his hair falling over his ears. He was such a pretty boy. Exactly what made him a target in this hell hole.
And I'll admit that I had targeted him for reasons other than what the other prisoners had.
Holding his tray, keeping his eyes down, he was walking quickly towards an empty table in the back.
"Sumner."
He jumped and turned, his green eyes going wide as he looked at me.
"Sit."
He cautiously took the seat across from me, but didn't argue at all.
Good. He knew his place.
I studied him.
He had no clue what to do in the situation he was in.
"Those two put you in here."
It wasn't a question.
"Who? That little faggot and his fucking pussy husband?"
I chuckled and nodded. "Husband.
"Yes. Those two."
"You know 'em?"
"We're acquainted." I reached a hand up, running a finger over the four thick scars across my cheek.
That awful cackle came from beside me and I turned to shove him right back in the floor again, his already unfocused eyes spinning in their sockets.
"That why you want to talk to me? To bond over those two pieces of shit?" He sounded skeptical.
"How much do you hate them?"
"With everything. They ruined my fuckin' life. You think I'm ever going to get a decent job or live a normal life when I get out of here? No."
"You want them dead."
"Fuck yeah, I do."
I felt the sneer come over my face. "You've had auror training."
Once again, not a question.
"Yep." He sounded proud.
He was already irritating the fuck out of me.
"I think you could be of use."
"For what?"
"You'll see. In time."
Once again, that awful cackle.
"Who the hell are you?"
I chuckled. Of course he wouldn't recognize me. I hadn't exactly been in the picture when he was around.
"A friend. An ally. We're fighting for the same cause."
"I mean what's your name?"
"Watch it, boy. That attitude's not going to get you anywhere." But I merely chuckled again. He was right. He deserved to atleast know my name if he didn't know anything else. Which he obviously didn't.
I stuck my hand out.
"Graham. Montague."
He smiled, a certain spark coming in to his eyes, and took my hand.