~Year: 2009
If this was what it felt like to be knocked out in a boxing match, you wouldn't be picking up the gloves any time soon.
You felt your body sway back and forth sickeningly, like you were being tossed around in the water. You shook your head and then blinked once, then twice. Wherever you were, it was completely, utterly, dark. You couldn't see a thing.
"Hello?" You say quietly, raising a hand to your head. Maybe this was just a hang over. "Draco?" There was no answer. That's when you felt it. You leaned to your side just a little too far and hit your head against something solid. Tentatively, you reached out, and your hand came in contact to the thing that had surely just bruised your skull. Whatever it was was dusty and filled with small niches, like it had been beaten ruthlessly. You shutter and draw back your hand.
"Hello?" You call out again, startling to feel a flicker of panic. Surely, this wasn't a hangover, but a dream. But then…what had happened? As you strained to remember, you felt a sharp pain on the back of your head. You felt around on your scalp before your fingers brushed over something; a large lump, nearly the size of a chicken's egg, resting under your hair. The wound was fresh; it pulsated sickly as you touched it. When you took your hand away, blood stained your fingertips. There's no denying it, by this time, you were completely terrified of where you were and what was going on. You coughed feebly. "If any one's out there, I need a doctor." For a moment, the place you were in remained dark. But after a few minutes ticked by, very slowly, a slit in the door opened to reveal a thin beam of light, which skittered over the floor. You were sitting in a small room, with no windows, made completely out of steel. There was no furnishing, just an empty chair that was bolted to the floor, which sat empty in the corner. You jumped to your feet, relieved, and nearly scraped your head against the shallow ceiling. Running your hands over your head, you turned slightly, and then something in your peripheral vision startled you.
In the corner was the thing you had hit your head on. A decaying, rotten human corpse was propped up against the wall. It leered out of the feeble light at you, it's teeth clinging to what was left of the graying gums. Maggots appeared to be gnawing at what was left of the pruny skin, which now that you noticed, was bloody and ripped. You feel a horrible sensation around your middle, like you're about to be seriously sick.
"I heard you yelling," a voice says into the darkness. You dash towards the source of the voice, which is near the slit of light. By now, obviously, you realize you're being held captive. And while that thought might frighten most people past the point of sanity, it calms you, makes you more determined to get out. Who on earth was keeping you here? What did they want? These questions buzzed around your brain as you drew breath, fighting to keep still and talk to your captor.
"I don't know why you brought me here. But I need a doctor. My head is bleeding."
There's a shuffling noise from outside the door, and you strain to look through the small slot, catch a glimpse of the person outside, but suddenly, a bottle blocks your view.
"Here," they say gruffly, shoving the bottles between the slats. Cautiously, you reach out and take it from the fingers, which are swollen and black. A fingernail is missing from one of them.
"What is this?" You demand, hesitating.
"Put it on your head, this will help heal it," the voice says quietly. They seem to guess what you're thinking. "It won't kill you. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done that by now."
You pause for a moment, before uncorking the little vials. You pause, and then pour the contents on the lump. Immediately, the wound begins to burn harshly, and you cry out in pain.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the voice snickers. "Were you looking for something to stop the bleeding? I was giving you some salt for your wound…so it would help heal my anger."
"What do you want?" You cry out, still wincing from the pain.
"I think you know, Celia." The way the person says your name is familiar…it stirs something in your memory. You choke on your own breath.
"Regulus," you say into the darkness, scratching at your scalp, trying to remove the grains of salt. "You're going to kill me."
"That's right. Just like I did your parents," he says calmly, as if discussing the weather.
"What happened? How did you get me here?" Another shot of panic flows through you. "Where's Draco and the others?"
"Oh, don't worry about them," he says silkily. "I cornered you outside the pub. It was so easy, so purely simple. What would a teenager do on New Years Eve, I asked myself. And I remembered what my brother used to do. So I waited out in that stupid little Village, until, be still my heart, you appeared right before my eyes! You stumbled out of that shabby little bar, looking sick and pale. I walked right up to you, thinking I might have to silence you, even duel to capture you. But it was easier than I thought, Celia. You didn't even have a wand on you." Blast it. He was right. Your wand was sitting uselessly in the top drawer of your nightstand. "So, I simply knocked you out with a stunning spell. That certainly got the attention of your friends. They hopped off their stools and ran outside…the Malfoy boy was especially determined to stop me…he was casting spells only a dark wizard would know." He hisses for a moment. "Nearly got me, too. But I'm too powerful. I simply took you away. I brought you here." You open your mouth to reply angrily, but before you can say a word, there's a beam of blasting light, and suddenly, the whole room is visible. It appeared that the steel walls were just covering the real walls. You're sitting in a glass room. Yes, a glass room. And precisely where is this glass room? You look down and scream.
The glass room is suspended in the air. Below you, hundreds of feet, lies water, which is brewing angrily, spitting sea foam against jagged rocks. To your sides lie two cliffs, which hold the glass room in it's place. You whip around to see Regulus standing on one of these cliffs, his arms crossed smugly.
"Homey, isn't it?"
"Please let me out," you beg, pounding your fists against the walls of the room. You plead with him, but he merely sneers.
"Your parents said the same thing. Wanted to back out of our deal. And so, they thought they did. They thought I was dead. And I will stop at nothing to gain back what your parents have cost me."
"I am not my parents," you inform him, stomping your foot. "Please!"
His sneer widens considerably. "How do you feel, Celia?"
"Scared," you admit. "Angry. Let me out, for fuck's sake. I'll leave, you'll never hear from me, just please let me out."
"No, I mean, how do you feel physically?"
You stop kicking the glass and just look at him, surprised.
"Why?"
"JUST TELL ME, DAMMIT." He explodes, pointing his wand at you, and you back up a few inches, startled.
"Weak," you blurt out. "My head hurts."
"What is the longest time you've ever been away from Mr. Malfoy?" He asks next.
"I…I haven't, really," you admit. It's true. You've never been away from Draco than more than a day or so. And when you were, he was close by.
"Did you ever think, Celia, that you two are dependent on each other? That when you're weak, he's weak? That when you die, he might die as well?"
"You can't…" you whisper. "Please, not Draco. You have to let me out…"
"What's that?" He asks teasingly. "Let you out?" He stops and turns his back on you. "I'll think about it….but for the record, Celia, I am a patient person. You might be in there days before I come to a decision. He lets out a high laugh and closes the slats to the door, leaving you trapped in a completely clear room, where no one can see you.