After that, the cold.
Then, it was the light.
Attempting pathetically to block the rays of the rising sun from his eyes, he turned over, and was met with the scent of someone's foulest morning breath ever.
And that had been it for sleeping. He sat up, eyes wide and awake.
His first impression of the room around him was one of sick familiarity. He knew the floor beneath his feet, the horrible little chandelier hanging unhappily above his head, knew the wallpaper, the pissflower stains and the stink.. He had visited this place and knew it's great unrest, had tasted the flavor of it's dispair and run from it in his dreaming subconscious mind.
Instinct kicked in, and he was off the tiny bed, at the window. Of course, it was too high up for him to see out of, and the skyline of industrial muggle London smirked at him with its warehouses and it's broken windows.
Where was the god damned door? He questioned himself wildly. Where was the door? There has to be a door. There had to be.
A bolt of searing lightening pain rocketed itself up and down his arm, reverberating unmercifully against his bones. He sat down on the floor, eyes clear and wide. He was sobered, humbled by the sensation. He swallowed.
Across the room, Harry was still curled sleeping on the tiny waste of a bed, his fair face frowning and troubled.
Did he know? Draco wondered. Did some part of Harry's mind feel that everything was very very wrong? Couldn't he sense it!
Things got very quiet. Draco could hear Harry breathing, could hear himself wheezing- as though some kind of manic poison had released itself within his brain, and he were drowning in it.
And all the while, Harry slept on. Why wasnt Harry waking up? The Slytherin crossed the room and got close to Harry's face. He was still breathing, but he wasn't conscious.
"Harry, wake up." He said, tugging at the sleeping Gryffindor's index finger.
"Come on, you've got to. Time to rise and shine.."
After what seemed like an endless ammount of this, he sighed.
"WAKE UP!" Draco screamed, and grabbed one of Harry's arms. He shook the Gryffindor voliently, desperately. "Harry. Harry, please.." Draco ventured, trying to bargain with the sleeping boy. "Please wake up.. I don't want to be alone.." he pulled at Harry's hands, trying to get him to stir.
"..I don't want to be alone here.."
Sometime after Draco tried to revive Harry, Harry woke naturally to a headache unlike any he had ever had before.
It peirced him like no other pain ever could, like a million flaming needles stabbing, searing his brain matter. He put his hands up to his head, heels of his palms digging into his eye sockets, trying to push at the pressure.
Draco had curled himself up on the floor beside the bed, waiting for something- anything to happen.
When harry sat up, he lifted his head.
"Draco?"
The blonde sat up. "Yeah."
"Where are we?" Harry asked, somewhat tensely.
Draco didn't answer.
"Where are my glasses? Have you seen them?" Harry asked, kicking out of the covers, his shoes still on.
"I don't know," Draco said, moving out of the way. He felt the distance between them in the play of their body language, in the way Harry moved.
"I can't see without them. Maybe they're in the bed someplace.." he tore through the tiny bed.
"Harry," Draco said. "Harry, they're in your pocket."
Harry felt himself for them and shoved them on his face, wincing painfully when his eyes focused. His heart sank when he saw the room, and he began to gather an idea in his mind of where he must be.
Draco wasn't quite sure what to say- so he kept silent.
"You lied to me."
"I-"
"..Why did you lie to me? Why didn't you tell me you had the Dark Mark?"
"I don't know. I didn't mean to lie to you, Harry, really. please.. if you just let me explain.."
"But you did. You lied to me." He said, words burning with fury and conviction.
"I suppose everything else you said to me, all those things you told me. Were those lies, too?"
Draco closed his mouth.
"I'm sure your father must be very proud," Harry said, bitterly.
He understood, now. Their entire friendship- the moments they had shared. All of this meant nothing. It had been un-real. A set up. Another one of Voldemort's attempts at Harry's life. And that was the truth.
His cheeks burned in humiliation at the thought of how draco must have laughed at him, must have told everyone all the things harry had said to Draco in secret.
He sat down on the tiny bed that screamed beneath his weight and wrapped the dirty, scratchy blanket around him.
Draco just looked at him. "You don't know anything about that," Draco started in, standing up. "And just so you know, you're the only person I've ever told the truth to in my entire life and I hate you for it."
"That's just fine with me." Harry said quietly, after Draco had spewed his foul disposition all over the both of them.
Draco sighed, disgusted. He threw the ancient feather pillow across the room where it landed with a thud beneath the window. "And you want to know something else? I hate myself even more for it."
"What?" harry asked, not really wanting to hear it.
"You were all I ever wanted." Draco confessed dispassionately.
"Oh, would you just SHUT UP?" Harry asked, exploding. "You are such a LIAR! You were NEVER my friend! You were just trying to CONVINCE me to trust you so you could bring me HERE! You NEVER wanted ME."
"That isn't true. I've always wanted you!" he shouted back. "Anyway, this was all a part of Dumbledore's stupid plan to take down Voldemort! I never wanted to betray you!"
"Just leave me alone." Harry said, darkly, though his curiosity was peaked intensely at the mention of Dumbledore. "Just leave me alone."
"Harry, I'm sorry I lied to you about the Dark Mark. I didn't think you'd want to be friends with me if you knew the truth. Please.." he begged.
Harry shook his head stonily and turned away from Draco.
"Atleast take your wand," Draco said, and dug in his robes to pull it out. He offered it to Harry gingerly and Harry snatched it up, miserably.
Eventually, they ended up on opposite sides of the room, not facing eachother, not speaking. Draco found himself picking little spots of paint off of the floor, while Harry bit his nails to pieces.
Of course, they were both thinking very wildly about what had happened and what had been said, but neither had the courage or stamina left to start things up again.
Sometime later, after it had gotten dark and the night time chill began to creep its way through them both, a door formed itself in the center of the wall and four tall, spectral figures entered there. Behind them was Lucius Malfoy.
Draco swallowed. He really didn't like Dementors.
The four tall, spectral figures went across the room and seized Harry, who was strangley docile and sated. Draco realized he had lost consciousness.
Lucius stood above him, and Draco could feel his father's eyes staring down at him in the dark. Draco stood up, his back pressed into the corner of the room. He didn't say anything.
"I'm going to leave you here a might longer, Draco, but I want you to be prepared when I come to fetch you."
And like that, he was gone. The door was gone. Harry was gone.
Things were very quiet. Somewhere outside, a loud metal clang rang out.
But he could hear something else, if he listened long and hard enough.
A tiny voice coming from the floor, or maybe the walls, or the ancient metal heater in the corner, silently flaking it's paint. It was telling him the truth:
There's no way to undo this.. You can't hide from me.. You're a part of me, now. You're all a part of me now..
I'm already inside you.
I'm inside you.
One voice became two and three and five and then there were so many that Draco couldn't even make out what they were saying anymore. It was as though they were there within the walls themselves, treading where there were no rooms or doors. Frightened, he lurched and nearly vomited but couldn't. He buried his head in his arms, but it was no use, plugging his ears- that was silly. They were inside of him, hadn't they just said? He squirmed and screamed and kicked at the floor, but there was just no use.
Draco felt them, as though he were linked with voldemort, with the voices he heard, living truth of the terrible affirmations they gave him. He looked down at his arm and suddenly, a brilliant idea struck him.
This was the reason; this was the center of his distress, right there in his flesh. He went to the window and reached for the sill, finding precisely what he wanted: the shard of broken window pane that he knew would be there.
After that, he began to dig.
And it didnt matter how hard he screamed, or how much it hurt, or how much blood there was.. He would be free of this, and be finished with it forever.