Author's Notes: I have no idea how I managed to get this chapter finished
so quickly - and it's a lot longer than chapters seven and eight. It's...a
bit of a confusing chapter, I'm afraid. Although I suppose they all are...
Disclaimer: See part one.
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In three months at the prison, I had managed to stay out of isolation - mostly because I had avoided fights at all and any costs. I had been told, before I had entered Talsgate, that any misdemeanours would get me into isolation, and I had also been told exactly what isolation was.
I had been told that it was a row of ten cells, completely cut off from the rest of the prison. I had been told that if I was put in isolation, I would be alone all day in a small cell that contained only a bed, except for meals, which I would eat at a small table in the isolation block with whichever men happened to be in isolation at the time. I was told that I would have a light, but nothing to do except be with my own thoughts.
They hadn't lied, but they hadn't told me everything.
The guard opened the heavy metal door that led to the isolation block, and closed it behind me. Harry was standing in front of a cell, being searched roughly - I wondered what they were looking for, because I was also roughly searched. He lifted his head to meet my eyes; for a moment they were unguarded, but I could not name the emotion I saw in them. I managed a wry grin.
He was put into the cell that I saw was numbered 'E-A'. Isolation block, I remembered, was called E. I was put into 'E-B' a moment afterwards. The heavy door was shut.
The cells in isolation, I saw, were smaller than my own cell by quite a few feet. A bed, fixed to the floor, lay against the wall. I turned back to look at the door; the only opening in it was a small metal grill at about eyelevel.
An electric light was fixed in the ceiling, held encased by a metal grill. I guess they didn't want us breaking the glass and trying to kill ourselves with the shards.
Or maybe that was just my opinion.
I realised that since it was probably only about nine in the morning, I now had several hours in which there was nothing to do except wait for lunch.
And after that, I had several more hours until supper. And even more hours until breakfast. And then...
It occurred to me that I didn't even know how long they were going to keep me in here. It could be hours - although that, I had to admit to myself, was very unlikely - it could be days, or it could even be months, after what I'd done.
What I'd done. I sat down heavily on the bed. Had I really knocked Lord Voldemort to the ground? I had. I didn't regret it, I realised. Not at all. I'd been waiting to do that for...well, if not years, months. Months of hating, months of suppressed fear and loathing and disgust and trying to hide my reactions...and all I had done was knock him to the ground.
I was disgusted with myself. Had I been a Slytherin or not? I had acted like a Gryffindor, rushing in and acting without thinking at all.
But then again, did I really want to be a Slytherin, when *he* was the very embodiment of Slytherin? Maybe not...but I still was one. And I had acted altogether too Gryffindor-ish.
And besides, I reminded myself, it wasn't as if Harry had done much better.
His attack had been far more impressive though.
And I suddenly understood why isolation was so hated by all the inmates.
I felt an irrational fear for the coming hours that I would spend...alone...with only my thoughts...this was what I had been strenuously avoiding for three months.
I was very much looking forward to lunch, even if Harry was the only other person in isolation at the moment - he might not want to talk to me, especially after I had...kissed him...but at least I would be in the company of someone other than myself.
Sometimes I really hated myself. Or maybe that was just the being-alone- for-more-than-ten-minutes part of me. The only time I'd spent completely by myself in the last three months had been at night, when I slept as much as possible. Now I had to be alone during the day, when I couldn't sleep.
After all, that was the whole point of this block, right?
I wondered how Harry was doing. He had been in isolation many times before, I knew, mostly because of interrupting fights - the guards jumped on him for that, even if it usually stopped people getting bloodied up. In fact, if I thought about it, Harry had never looked angry or upset when taken to isolation, as everyone else did.
Maybe he liked being alone with his thoughts. I was sure, from various hints that I'd picked up so far, that he had plenty to think about.
So did I, come to think about it. I rose, and started pacing around the cell. It wasn't as nice to pace around - it wasn't as big, so I guess that was the problem with it. Maybe this wasn't so bad, though. It was time to think about things that I'd pushed to the back of my mind for what seemed like forever, though it was only a few months.
What was I thinking? Isolation was really beginning to get to me, and I'd only been in here for fifteen minutes. How was I ever going to last, for however long they kept me in here without, thinking?
Somehow, I didn't think I would.
I flung myself back onto my bed, and clung to happy thoughts of pleasant nothings - sunshine, daisies, Quidditch - no, not Quidditch, too high, that reminds me off -
No. Stop thinking. Not thinking. Thinking of nothing. Nothing at all. I used to think of nothing, I remember I was very good at it, I thought of nothing when Daddy called me to the study...no, no, no, no, no, think of nothing, not daddy, nothing, not daddy...God, I wanted to know what he'd done to Mother...I hope she's alright, she's got to be alright, she only wanted to make sure I was safe, it's not her fault that she cares, she's my mother, and he's probably done something to her - he's probably hurt her just because she cares, and he never cared, no, no, he never cared -
Stop it! I couldn't think about that, I couldn't. If I thought about that, I would crack, and I really, really couldn't afford to crack. Not in here, not in Talsgate prison. In Talsgate you didn't crack, and you didn't cry.
I'd cried. So had Harry, and I wondered why. When I'd first come in, he'd seemed.not hard, exactly, but cold, as if nothing really could affect him anymore. Well, I knew that wasn't true - any mention of his past affected him in some way. Granger's visit, only a few days ago - was it only a few days ago? - had made him cry, and I was sure that it wasn't just because she was a collaborator. There was something deeper there, something to do with the three of them, Harry and Ron and Hermione.
I wanted to know who had broken Harry's heart, and I wanted to kill whoever it was. He was my Harry, and I didn't want him to hurt.
God, I was getting so sentimental. Maybe that's why they don't use Azkaban anymore - eventually everyone in Talsgate ends up in isolation, so they all must go mad from facing their own thoughts. Maybe that's Voldemort's master plan. Get rid of all the criminals by leaving them completely on their own.
Okay, maybe not. And besides, I already knew why they didn't use Azkaban anymore. I was really beginning to lose it.
Beginning to? Heck, I'd already lost it. I'd slipped up, hadn't I? Malfoys never slip up, they never get caught, that was the very first lesson that I'd learnt, even before I learnt to speak, even before I learnt that I must uphold the Malfoy family honour. Malfoys never, ever, ever get caught.
Not only had I got caught, I'd got caught helping the other side.
Maybe they'd keep me in isolation forever. I mean, mauling the Dark Lord, the one who reigns supreme over everything, had to be bad enough to keep me in isolation for more than a few days or weeks. Maybe they'd even kill me - I know *he* didn't have any reason to want to keep me alive, not after what I'd done, not after my 'betrayal' of *him*.
I don't think death would be so bad.
I sat up slowly, and pulled up the sleeve of my prison shirt. I ran my thumb along the white scar on my wrist. I'd thought that before, and had nearly paid the price. That had been so long ago, and I'd barely thought of it since. Voldemort knew, though. He knew that I'd tried to kill myself during my last year at Hogwarts. Perhaps that's what he intends to happen to me in isolation. I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to find some way to kill myself in here, despite all the precautions they'd taken.
I glanced up at the electric light again, the glass bulb taunting me, tantalisingly close.
"What am I thinking?" I demanded aloud. I slid off the bed and leant against it, the cool metal floor cooling my nerves. I didn't want to kill myself, why should I? There was so much to live for.
Okay, maybe not that much. But there was myself, and there was Harry, and all my other friends in the prison - Gary, and Claw, and Rubber...
My thoughts strayed to Zabini. I wondered what exactly was going on between him and Harry. Because something was going on, the entire prison knew it. And I was certain that Claw at least knew what it was.
Claw knew practically everything there is to know about Harry. I wondered why that was, as well.
I hated isolation, and I'd only been in here for half an hour.
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To be continued.
Replies to reviews:
Ice - Harry's power: Voldemort hasn't killed him because *****--censored-- **** . It will be explained, I promise. Good point about Harry showing emotion - remember it. Thanks for your comments. Again.
Hana-chan - again, you'll find out more about everything as the story progresses. I really can't answer anything you said right now! Thanks for your comments.
withset - thank you! Good observations...but I can't tell you what's going on! Your wild guess is absolutely...unanswerable, since if I answer that it'll spoil the rest of it. Have I given no clues as to where this is going? Good, good. Anyway, thanks for your comments.
EnigmaDesdemona7 - well, I'm glad you like Harry in my fic! Excused to read Dragon Mage, gladly...
Derelictus - you think the plot has thickened? Oh no, the plot was always thick, you've only just seen the surface before now. I have now taken you all snorkelling just below the surface. You can mourn the loss of snoggage, but it isn't coming back for a while. I promise not to get my hands mutated - was this chapter up quick enough for you? Eleven hours...it must be some kind of record for me...
Disclaimer: See part one.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In three months at the prison, I had managed to stay out of isolation - mostly because I had avoided fights at all and any costs. I had been told, before I had entered Talsgate, that any misdemeanours would get me into isolation, and I had also been told exactly what isolation was.
I had been told that it was a row of ten cells, completely cut off from the rest of the prison. I had been told that if I was put in isolation, I would be alone all day in a small cell that contained only a bed, except for meals, which I would eat at a small table in the isolation block with whichever men happened to be in isolation at the time. I was told that I would have a light, but nothing to do except be with my own thoughts.
They hadn't lied, but they hadn't told me everything.
The guard opened the heavy metal door that led to the isolation block, and closed it behind me. Harry was standing in front of a cell, being searched roughly - I wondered what they were looking for, because I was also roughly searched. He lifted his head to meet my eyes; for a moment they were unguarded, but I could not name the emotion I saw in them. I managed a wry grin.
He was put into the cell that I saw was numbered 'E-A'. Isolation block, I remembered, was called E. I was put into 'E-B' a moment afterwards. The heavy door was shut.
The cells in isolation, I saw, were smaller than my own cell by quite a few feet. A bed, fixed to the floor, lay against the wall. I turned back to look at the door; the only opening in it was a small metal grill at about eyelevel.
An electric light was fixed in the ceiling, held encased by a metal grill. I guess they didn't want us breaking the glass and trying to kill ourselves with the shards.
Or maybe that was just my opinion.
I realised that since it was probably only about nine in the morning, I now had several hours in which there was nothing to do except wait for lunch.
And after that, I had several more hours until supper. And even more hours until breakfast. And then...
It occurred to me that I didn't even know how long they were going to keep me in here. It could be hours - although that, I had to admit to myself, was very unlikely - it could be days, or it could even be months, after what I'd done.
What I'd done. I sat down heavily on the bed. Had I really knocked Lord Voldemort to the ground? I had. I didn't regret it, I realised. Not at all. I'd been waiting to do that for...well, if not years, months. Months of hating, months of suppressed fear and loathing and disgust and trying to hide my reactions...and all I had done was knock him to the ground.
I was disgusted with myself. Had I been a Slytherin or not? I had acted like a Gryffindor, rushing in and acting without thinking at all.
But then again, did I really want to be a Slytherin, when *he* was the very embodiment of Slytherin? Maybe not...but I still was one. And I had acted altogether too Gryffindor-ish.
And besides, I reminded myself, it wasn't as if Harry had done much better.
His attack had been far more impressive though.
And I suddenly understood why isolation was so hated by all the inmates.
I felt an irrational fear for the coming hours that I would spend...alone...with only my thoughts...this was what I had been strenuously avoiding for three months.
I was very much looking forward to lunch, even if Harry was the only other person in isolation at the moment - he might not want to talk to me, especially after I had...kissed him...but at least I would be in the company of someone other than myself.
Sometimes I really hated myself. Or maybe that was just the being-alone- for-more-than-ten-minutes part of me. The only time I'd spent completely by myself in the last three months had been at night, when I slept as much as possible. Now I had to be alone during the day, when I couldn't sleep.
After all, that was the whole point of this block, right?
I wondered how Harry was doing. He had been in isolation many times before, I knew, mostly because of interrupting fights - the guards jumped on him for that, even if it usually stopped people getting bloodied up. In fact, if I thought about it, Harry had never looked angry or upset when taken to isolation, as everyone else did.
Maybe he liked being alone with his thoughts. I was sure, from various hints that I'd picked up so far, that he had plenty to think about.
So did I, come to think about it. I rose, and started pacing around the cell. It wasn't as nice to pace around - it wasn't as big, so I guess that was the problem with it. Maybe this wasn't so bad, though. It was time to think about things that I'd pushed to the back of my mind for what seemed like forever, though it was only a few months.
What was I thinking? Isolation was really beginning to get to me, and I'd only been in here for fifteen minutes. How was I ever going to last, for however long they kept me in here without, thinking?
Somehow, I didn't think I would.
I flung myself back onto my bed, and clung to happy thoughts of pleasant nothings - sunshine, daisies, Quidditch - no, not Quidditch, too high, that reminds me off -
No. Stop thinking. Not thinking. Thinking of nothing. Nothing at all. I used to think of nothing, I remember I was very good at it, I thought of nothing when Daddy called me to the study...no, no, no, no, no, think of nothing, not daddy, nothing, not daddy...God, I wanted to know what he'd done to Mother...I hope she's alright, she's got to be alright, she only wanted to make sure I was safe, it's not her fault that she cares, she's my mother, and he's probably done something to her - he's probably hurt her just because she cares, and he never cared, no, no, he never cared -
Stop it! I couldn't think about that, I couldn't. If I thought about that, I would crack, and I really, really couldn't afford to crack. Not in here, not in Talsgate prison. In Talsgate you didn't crack, and you didn't cry.
I'd cried. So had Harry, and I wondered why. When I'd first come in, he'd seemed.not hard, exactly, but cold, as if nothing really could affect him anymore. Well, I knew that wasn't true - any mention of his past affected him in some way. Granger's visit, only a few days ago - was it only a few days ago? - had made him cry, and I was sure that it wasn't just because she was a collaborator. There was something deeper there, something to do with the three of them, Harry and Ron and Hermione.
I wanted to know who had broken Harry's heart, and I wanted to kill whoever it was. He was my Harry, and I didn't want him to hurt.
God, I was getting so sentimental. Maybe that's why they don't use Azkaban anymore - eventually everyone in Talsgate ends up in isolation, so they all must go mad from facing their own thoughts. Maybe that's Voldemort's master plan. Get rid of all the criminals by leaving them completely on their own.
Okay, maybe not. And besides, I already knew why they didn't use Azkaban anymore. I was really beginning to lose it.
Beginning to? Heck, I'd already lost it. I'd slipped up, hadn't I? Malfoys never slip up, they never get caught, that was the very first lesson that I'd learnt, even before I learnt to speak, even before I learnt that I must uphold the Malfoy family honour. Malfoys never, ever, ever get caught.
Not only had I got caught, I'd got caught helping the other side.
Maybe they'd keep me in isolation forever. I mean, mauling the Dark Lord, the one who reigns supreme over everything, had to be bad enough to keep me in isolation for more than a few days or weeks. Maybe they'd even kill me - I know *he* didn't have any reason to want to keep me alive, not after what I'd done, not after my 'betrayal' of *him*.
I don't think death would be so bad.
I sat up slowly, and pulled up the sleeve of my prison shirt. I ran my thumb along the white scar on my wrist. I'd thought that before, and had nearly paid the price. That had been so long ago, and I'd barely thought of it since. Voldemort knew, though. He knew that I'd tried to kill myself during my last year at Hogwarts. Perhaps that's what he intends to happen to me in isolation. I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to find some way to kill myself in here, despite all the precautions they'd taken.
I glanced up at the electric light again, the glass bulb taunting me, tantalisingly close.
"What am I thinking?" I demanded aloud. I slid off the bed and leant against it, the cool metal floor cooling my nerves. I didn't want to kill myself, why should I? There was so much to live for.
Okay, maybe not that much. But there was myself, and there was Harry, and all my other friends in the prison - Gary, and Claw, and Rubber...
My thoughts strayed to Zabini. I wondered what exactly was going on between him and Harry. Because something was going on, the entire prison knew it. And I was certain that Claw at least knew what it was.
Claw knew practically everything there is to know about Harry. I wondered why that was, as well.
I hated isolation, and I'd only been in here for half an hour.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To be continued.
Replies to reviews:
Ice - Harry's power: Voldemort hasn't killed him because *****--censored-- **** . It will be explained, I promise. Good point about Harry showing emotion - remember it. Thanks for your comments. Again.
Hana-chan - again, you'll find out more about everything as the story progresses. I really can't answer anything you said right now! Thanks for your comments.
withset - thank you! Good observations...but I can't tell you what's going on! Your wild guess is absolutely...unanswerable, since if I answer that it'll spoil the rest of it. Have I given no clues as to where this is going? Good, good. Anyway, thanks for your comments.
EnigmaDesdemona7 - well, I'm glad you like Harry in my fic! Excused to read Dragon Mage, gladly...
Derelictus - you think the plot has thickened? Oh no, the plot was always thick, you've only just seen the surface before now. I have now taken you all snorkelling just below the surface. You can mourn the loss of snoggage, but it isn't coming back for a while. I promise not to get my hands mutated - was this chapter up quick enough for you? Eleven hours...it must be some kind of record for me...