Author's Notes: Can someone please answer this question for me: Why is it
that my fics that seem to be most popular are always, without fail, the
ones that I've just written on a whim? Thanks for all the great reviews!
Disclaimer: As part one.
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"I'd get up afore one-four-seven gets after ye," a guard advised me a moment after he had shaken me awake. I blinked up at him, and he disappeared out of my cell. I stared up for a long moment at the yellowish ceiling, then I sat up and took a good look at my cell.
It was small, I quickly realised, perhaps ten feet by eight, and contained only a bed that folded up against the wall, a fold-up chair and table, another loose chair and a small metal chest. On the table I could see a mug holding a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a comb. I grimaced. This, then, was my home for the next twenty years.
As I hadn't undressed last night, being too exhausted, all I had to do to be ready was pull on the canvas prison shoes and run a hand through my hair. I tugged the bedclothes straight, and caught sight of the man in the cell opposite mine staring openly. I raised one eyebrow coolly at him then stepped out of my cell. My cell...the words felt strange even just in my mind. I hoped that I wouldn't have to speak the words aloud any time soon.
The moment I stepped out of the cell I was accosted by a man, who I recognised from yesterday as Gary.
"You'd better fold your bed up, three-three-six," Gary advised me coolly. "It's against regulations to leave it like that." I flushed. Even after all these years under *him* hadn't cured me of an dislike of being told what to do. I turned, however, and pushed my bed up against the wall. With his eyes fixed unforgivingly on me I fumbled with the catch. Eventually Gary pushed my hands away and did it for me.
"Thanks," I muttered. Gary grimaced.
"Don't thank in here," he warned. "It's not done. And look - I'm not doing this because I like you, Malfoy. But I respect Harry, and I'll tell you this for his sake."
"Tell me what?" I inquired lightly. I wasn't willing to be dragged into whatever politics was going on in this prison - not until I'd talked to Harry, anyway. Gary's eyes flashed dangerously, and I dropped my eyes to my feet. It was a habit I was getting into that I ought to stop, I knew. But not now.
"In here," Gary continued evenly, as if I hadn't spoken, "it doesn't matter why you got here, or how long you're here for. What matters is how you treat people." I looked up again sharply, fairly sure that I knew what was coming. "Especially Harry," he completed.
I met his eyes with steely resolve. I wasn't going to let him, or anyone else for that matter, dictate to me how I would treat Harry. Well..."How I treat him," I replied quietly, "depends on how he treats me." There. If Harry was the leader of the prison, and if he was still the same person I once knew, there was no way he would treat me with anything less than courtesy. Gary must know that, and so Gary would accept my answer as good.
Or maybe not. Gary met my eyes, searching for something. He did not find it - I was still a Malfoy, for all my other failings - and nodded slowly.
"Fine," he said at last. 'Come on, I'll take you to him. Since you can't be expected to know your way around."
I nodded - there was no other option but to agree - and followed Gary from my cell. We left the alley, which I saw was called Alley C, although someone had scratched a word underneath it. I made a mental note to return to see what it was, Harry's comment about 'Godric Alley' still in my mind from last night. We entered Alley B, and went to the metal staircase that led up to the higher staircase. Here I could read the word hastily engraved under the official sign - Salazar.
My eyebrows must have hit my hairline, but I resolved to ask someone about it - Harry, probably - and continued to look around myself in curiosity. It was, after all, my first time in *any* prison, let along Talsgate, which had become infamous for housing dangerous criminals...of which I now was one, I supposed. I didn't like that thought, and shut it out, looking around the prison.
I could see men both walking around and still locked in their cells; most of them were part of one conversation or other, but what surprised me most was that many of these conversations were taking place through cell bars. I knew that the ones who were locked in their cells all the time except at meals were the ones considered most dangerous - or mad - but I hadn't expected there to be much interaction between them and the rest of the prison. Then again, I hadn't really known what to expect.
None of them appeared the slightest bit interested in Gary or me, but I could feel their eyes on me as we reached the highest level of the prison.
A movement off to my left caught my attention, and I looked to see a gallery, fenced off by metal wire, where several guards conversed and kept an eye on the prison, wands idly in their hands and guns holstered at their belts. I felt a little sick.
"Ignore them and they ignore you, for the most part," Garry muttered. "Here we are - one-oh-two." The two cells on either side, I noted absently as he stepped into Harry's cell, were empty of occupants for the time being.
Harry glanced up from the sheet of paper he was writing on - I hadn't known we could write letters - with a strange expression in his eyes. After a moment he gave a faint smile. "So you found your way here."
"Uh, Gary helped," I replied, a little awkwardly. I really wasn't ready to talk to Harry again, I realised. After all, the last time I'd seen him he had still been calling me Malfoy, I'd still been calling him Potter, and we were both firmly agreed that we hated one another. I glanced over my shoulder to look for Gary - anything to look away from those piercing green eyes - only to find that he had gone.
"He'll have gone to get Claw," Harry observed, rising from his bed and stretching. "Since he'll be keeping an eye on you."
I nodded, although I wanted to protest that I didn't really need looking after. Somehow I didn't think that it would be a good idea to disagree with Harry just at the moment - and besides, I probably would get lost without a guide of some sort. Harry silently gestured towards his loose chair, and I thankfully sat down in it. Harry watched me carefully, his eyes still inscrutable.
"It's not that bad, Draco," he said finally. "You'll land on your feet, you always do."
I felt a sudden surge of resentment. What he'd said wasn't true - I hardly ever landed on my feet, if the truth was told. My father had always done the landing for me...except in this instance. In this instance he had left me to fall, and I could scarcely blame him after what I had done.
Not that I regretted what I had done.
So I shrugged uneasily. "I'm fine," I lied, as convincingly as I knew how. By the slight narrowing of his eyes, I knew that Harry had seen through the lie, but I couldn't really have cared less. I concentrated on watching Harry as I tapped on the table next to me.
Harry's gaze instantly narrowed in on my fingers and the rhythm I was creating.
"But all this has happened so quickly," I continued, as my tapping changed imperceptibly.
"It generally does with old Mouldy-warts," Harry agreed, lifting his head to look at me, understanding filling his eyes. He lifted his hand slightly to rest on the wall, and he started tapping as well. My fingers stilled, and I watched his movements carefully.
Then he changed the subject so abruptly that I blinked. "I wonder where Claw is; I hope he's not fighting again."
"Does he get into fights often?" I inquired, satisfied by our silent conversation. Harry gave me an odd look.
"How much information about this place gets out to you lot?" he asked slowly. I shrugged.
"Practically none," I answered. In truth, it had almost been less than that for I and the others who had served with me...our rank had not been conducive to learning about the prison. "Why?"
"Everyone gets into fights here," was the reply. "It's a regular thing, despite what the guards might wish." He grinned lopsidedly, and for an instant I was reminded of the boy he had once been. "I wonder who your first fight will be with."
"You, I hope," I said before I had thought the words through. "At least with you I know I have a half-way decent chance of winning."
His eyes flashed, and I knew I had said something wrong. Still, I met his gaze levelly.
"How would you know?" he demanded quietly. "You must have changed over the years, Malfoy - and I certainly have."
Well, I could see that. It was obvious in everything about him - he was no longer quiet and unassuming. The war had turned him into a true leader, but something - someone - had changed something deep inside him. I couldn't see exactly what had changed yet.but I knew he was different. Even in the short time I had spent with him so far, he felt...serpentine. He felt like a Slytherin...and I didn't like it.
After all, he was the very essence of Gryffindor...or so the rumours said. So *he* had whispered to me on dark nights.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but his attention was drawn to Claw, who stood at the cell door. He had a black eye. Obviously Harry's suspicions had been correct, then.
"Who?" Harry demanded, a little wearily. Claw shrugged; he clearly didn't want to say. "Oh, alright," Harry relented. "Besides, I know it was Birdie." Claw shrugged again.
"Doesn't matter," he said simply. "He won't try fighting me again." He looked at me, and I flinched away; Birdie sounded mad to even *try* fighting with the large man. I certainly was going to stay as much on his good side as I could.
Harry opened his mouth and started to say something, but just then a loud, clanging, *loud* sound came ringing through the prison. I winced; I felt as though my brain was being rattled in my skull. Harry and Claw, however, almost seemed to barely notice it.
"Breakfast," Harry informed me, and I suddenly realised that I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday lunch. "Come on, they don't like it if we're late." I rose and left Harry's cell in front of him, making the mistake of looking down. I swayed, and focused on the nearest thing at my eye level...which happened to be, of course, Harry.
"You're afraid of heights?" he demanded, clearly highly amused. I gritted my teeth. "And you used to play Quidditch."
"I wasn't then," I ground out. "I am now." Harry watched me for a moment, then nodded. Fine. Whatever. He could draw his own conclusions. I wanted food.
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To be continued.
Disclaimer: As part one.
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"I'd get up afore one-four-seven gets after ye," a guard advised me a moment after he had shaken me awake. I blinked up at him, and he disappeared out of my cell. I stared up for a long moment at the yellowish ceiling, then I sat up and took a good look at my cell.
It was small, I quickly realised, perhaps ten feet by eight, and contained only a bed that folded up against the wall, a fold-up chair and table, another loose chair and a small metal chest. On the table I could see a mug holding a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a comb. I grimaced. This, then, was my home for the next twenty years.
As I hadn't undressed last night, being too exhausted, all I had to do to be ready was pull on the canvas prison shoes and run a hand through my hair. I tugged the bedclothes straight, and caught sight of the man in the cell opposite mine staring openly. I raised one eyebrow coolly at him then stepped out of my cell. My cell...the words felt strange even just in my mind. I hoped that I wouldn't have to speak the words aloud any time soon.
The moment I stepped out of the cell I was accosted by a man, who I recognised from yesterday as Gary.
"You'd better fold your bed up, three-three-six," Gary advised me coolly. "It's against regulations to leave it like that." I flushed. Even after all these years under *him* hadn't cured me of an dislike of being told what to do. I turned, however, and pushed my bed up against the wall. With his eyes fixed unforgivingly on me I fumbled with the catch. Eventually Gary pushed my hands away and did it for me.
"Thanks," I muttered. Gary grimaced.
"Don't thank in here," he warned. "It's not done. And look - I'm not doing this because I like you, Malfoy. But I respect Harry, and I'll tell you this for his sake."
"Tell me what?" I inquired lightly. I wasn't willing to be dragged into whatever politics was going on in this prison - not until I'd talked to Harry, anyway. Gary's eyes flashed dangerously, and I dropped my eyes to my feet. It was a habit I was getting into that I ought to stop, I knew. But not now.
"In here," Gary continued evenly, as if I hadn't spoken, "it doesn't matter why you got here, or how long you're here for. What matters is how you treat people." I looked up again sharply, fairly sure that I knew what was coming. "Especially Harry," he completed.
I met his eyes with steely resolve. I wasn't going to let him, or anyone else for that matter, dictate to me how I would treat Harry. Well..."How I treat him," I replied quietly, "depends on how he treats me." There. If Harry was the leader of the prison, and if he was still the same person I once knew, there was no way he would treat me with anything less than courtesy. Gary must know that, and so Gary would accept my answer as good.
Or maybe not. Gary met my eyes, searching for something. He did not find it - I was still a Malfoy, for all my other failings - and nodded slowly.
"Fine," he said at last. 'Come on, I'll take you to him. Since you can't be expected to know your way around."
I nodded - there was no other option but to agree - and followed Gary from my cell. We left the alley, which I saw was called Alley C, although someone had scratched a word underneath it. I made a mental note to return to see what it was, Harry's comment about 'Godric Alley' still in my mind from last night. We entered Alley B, and went to the metal staircase that led up to the higher staircase. Here I could read the word hastily engraved under the official sign - Salazar.
My eyebrows must have hit my hairline, but I resolved to ask someone about it - Harry, probably - and continued to look around myself in curiosity. It was, after all, my first time in *any* prison, let along Talsgate, which had become infamous for housing dangerous criminals...of which I now was one, I supposed. I didn't like that thought, and shut it out, looking around the prison.
I could see men both walking around and still locked in their cells; most of them were part of one conversation or other, but what surprised me most was that many of these conversations were taking place through cell bars. I knew that the ones who were locked in their cells all the time except at meals were the ones considered most dangerous - or mad - but I hadn't expected there to be much interaction between them and the rest of the prison. Then again, I hadn't really known what to expect.
None of them appeared the slightest bit interested in Gary or me, but I could feel their eyes on me as we reached the highest level of the prison.
A movement off to my left caught my attention, and I looked to see a gallery, fenced off by metal wire, where several guards conversed and kept an eye on the prison, wands idly in their hands and guns holstered at their belts. I felt a little sick.
"Ignore them and they ignore you, for the most part," Garry muttered. "Here we are - one-oh-two." The two cells on either side, I noted absently as he stepped into Harry's cell, were empty of occupants for the time being.
Harry glanced up from the sheet of paper he was writing on - I hadn't known we could write letters - with a strange expression in his eyes. After a moment he gave a faint smile. "So you found your way here."
"Uh, Gary helped," I replied, a little awkwardly. I really wasn't ready to talk to Harry again, I realised. After all, the last time I'd seen him he had still been calling me Malfoy, I'd still been calling him Potter, and we were both firmly agreed that we hated one another. I glanced over my shoulder to look for Gary - anything to look away from those piercing green eyes - only to find that he had gone.
"He'll have gone to get Claw," Harry observed, rising from his bed and stretching. "Since he'll be keeping an eye on you."
I nodded, although I wanted to protest that I didn't really need looking after. Somehow I didn't think that it would be a good idea to disagree with Harry just at the moment - and besides, I probably would get lost without a guide of some sort. Harry silently gestured towards his loose chair, and I thankfully sat down in it. Harry watched me carefully, his eyes still inscrutable.
"It's not that bad, Draco," he said finally. "You'll land on your feet, you always do."
I felt a sudden surge of resentment. What he'd said wasn't true - I hardly ever landed on my feet, if the truth was told. My father had always done the landing for me...except in this instance. In this instance he had left me to fall, and I could scarcely blame him after what I had done.
Not that I regretted what I had done.
So I shrugged uneasily. "I'm fine," I lied, as convincingly as I knew how. By the slight narrowing of his eyes, I knew that Harry had seen through the lie, but I couldn't really have cared less. I concentrated on watching Harry as I tapped on the table next to me.
Harry's gaze instantly narrowed in on my fingers and the rhythm I was creating.
"But all this has happened so quickly," I continued, as my tapping changed imperceptibly.
"It generally does with old Mouldy-warts," Harry agreed, lifting his head to look at me, understanding filling his eyes. He lifted his hand slightly to rest on the wall, and he started tapping as well. My fingers stilled, and I watched his movements carefully.
Then he changed the subject so abruptly that I blinked. "I wonder where Claw is; I hope he's not fighting again."
"Does he get into fights often?" I inquired, satisfied by our silent conversation. Harry gave me an odd look.
"How much information about this place gets out to you lot?" he asked slowly. I shrugged.
"Practically none," I answered. In truth, it had almost been less than that for I and the others who had served with me...our rank had not been conducive to learning about the prison. "Why?"
"Everyone gets into fights here," was the reply. "It's a regular thing, despite what the guards might wish." He grinned lopsidedly, and for an instant I was reminded of the boy he had once been. "I wonder who your first fight will be with."
"You, I hope," I said before I had thought the words through. "At least with you I know I have a half-way decent chance of winning."
His eyes flashed, and I knew I had said something wrong. Still, I met his gaze levelly.
"How would you know?" he demanded quietly. "You must have changed over the years, Malfoy - and I certainly have."
Well, I could see that. It was obvious in everything about him - he was no longer quiet and unassuming. The war had turned him into a true leader, but something - someone - had changed something deep inside him. I couldn't see exactly what had changed yet.but I knew he was different. Even in the short time I had spent with him so far, he felt...serpentine. He felt like a Slytherin...and I didn't like it.
After all, he was the very essence of Gryffindor...or so the rumours said. So *he* had whispered to me on dark nights.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but his attention was drawn to Claw, who stood at the cell door. He had a black eye. Obviously Harry's suspicions had been correct, then.
"Who?" Harry demanded, a little wearily. Claw shrugged; he clearly didn't want to say. "Oh, alright," Harry relented. "Besides, I know it was Birdie." Claw shrugged again.
"Doesn't matter," he said simply. "He won't try fighting me again." He looked at me, and I flinched away; Birdie sounded mad to even *try* fighting with the large man. I certainly was going to stay as much on his good side as I could.
Harry opened his mouth and started to say something, but just then a loud, clanging, *loud* sound came ringing through the prison. I winced; I felt as though my brain was being rattled in my skull. Harry and Claw, however, almost seemed to barely notice it.
"Breakfast," Harry informed me, and I suddenly realised that I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday lunch. "Come on, they don't like it if we're late." I rose and left Harry's cell in front of him, making the mistake of looking down. I swayed, and focused on the nearest thing at my eye level...which happened to be, of course, Harry.
"You're afraid of heights?" he demanded, clearly highly amused. I gritted my teeth. "And you used to play Quidditch."
"I wasn't then," I ground out. "I am now." Harry watched me for a moment, then nodded. Fine. Whatever. He could draw his own conclusions. I wanted food.
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To be continued.