Author's Notes: Slightly shorter chapter, I'm afraid.
Disclaimer: See part one.
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Tension. It was palpable in Talsgate the next morning. The inmates were all aware that Harry thought the attack would come today, so we were all quiet, speaking in muted voices and trying our best to ignore the resistance workers - who, to be fair, weren't going out of their ways to talk to us either. I suppose that they assumed we weren't to be trusted - after all, we were criminals of the first degree, the worst kind of scum.
As if they were much better.
The only loud noises in the prison were the angry yells of the guards we had shut up in isolation, and the clacking sounds of Snape's shoes as he paced up and down underneath the gallery. He was concerned about something, but we didn't know what. Maybe he secretly agreed with Harry in that he thought the attack would come today. He wouldn't talk of it.
I watched him from the end of Helga Alley, where our group of friends were trying to play cards, trying to show that we weren't concerned about what was going to happen. It didn't much work, since Harry was more interested in falling asleep on me than playing cards, and it was all I could do to keep my hands off him.
Finally Rubber decided he couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm not going to help you all be miserable," he said with conviction. "Look at you all! Claw, Gary, this isn't the end of the world we're talking about! Eddie, you're usually the one we all tell off for telling jokes at the wrong times! Harry, did you get *any* sleep last night? And Draco, we're all well aware that you've been in love with Harry since way back when, but do you have to flaunt it?"
After reading us that lecture, he promptly bent all his bones backwards. We couldn't help but laugh.
But it didn't last, it couldn't last. There was a dark shadow hanging over us that forbade laughter, that discouraged happy thoughts or looks or words. And we were helpless but to obey it. It hung over the whole prison, a dark spectre, a dark shadow of death and the only laughter was that of the madman in whichever cell he was in. He was so mad that when everyone else had been unlocked and brought out of their cells, Harry had decreed that he should be left where he was.
And the madman cared nothing for any attack that might be coming to us today.
The attack did come. It came only a few minutes before midday, and we were ready for it, even if the resistance was not. But they were practiced enough at fighting without any warning, so the edge of surprise that Voldemort had intended did not work.
None of us prisoners were much help, I saw that within moments of the Death Eaters Apparating into the prison - they had evidently taken down the wards. Others saw it to, and took to the relative safety of the uppermost cells, where the Death Eaters could scarcely reach them, and where they could watch the battle that waged on the ground floor.
It was a battle, a hideous, ugly battle. I crouched on the bridge of Salazar Alley most of the time, although I sometimes ran around looking for anyone who had been hurt, hoping that I could do something, anything to help Harry.
There was nothing I could do; the Death Eaters took no prisoners, and neither, it seemed, did the resistance. Harry sometimes seemed to be duelling with half a dozen wizards at a time; Snape seemed to be everywhere, and Black was just the same. The others of the resistance were fast, but not fast enough in many cases.
Soon bodies littered the prison, and I crouched again on the bridge over Salazar Alley, watching Snape be killed by an unnamed Death Eater, watching Harry barely able to spare a glance to our former teacher.
I don't believe in God, but please God, keep him safe.
A moment later, I forgot about Harry. A voice, a very familiar cold, slightly nasal voice spoke my name from behind me.
"Draco."
That was all it took for me to know who it was. For eleven years I had heard that voice every day. For years afterwards it was still the most familiar voice to me in the world I straightened, and took a breath before turning around to face him.
He stood there as though he hadn't a care in the world, as if a massacre wasn't taking place around us. So he had always been, I recalled with bitterness. Whatever was going on could not affect the great lord of the manor.
"Hello, Father," I greeted, sounding more calm than I felt. I couldn't believe it. He was there. He was there, standing right in front of me, his wand clasped in his right hand. He lifted it, and I was terrified. I knew what he was about to do. I knew, and I could do nothing to stop it.
"No, Draco!" I heard Harry scream from somewhere below me. I couldn't turn, I couldn't take my eyes off him. His gray eyes, identical to mine. His silvery-blonde hair, with a few streaks of white-gray now. His arrogant, arrogant posture.
"Go to hell," I whispered.
His eyes flashed. He opened his mouth to speak two words. I let my hands drop to hang by my side. It was over. I knew it, he knew it...Harry knew it, or he would.
I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen, I never meant to love you, I never meant to let you get hurt, I never meant...
"Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light, then a distant wail, and then -
The End.
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Replies to reviews will follow in a longer author's note.
Disclaimer: See part one.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Tension. It was palpable in Talsgate the next morning. The inmates were all aware that Harry thought the attack would come today, so we were all quiet, speaking in muted voices and trying our best to ignore the resistance workers - who, to be fair, weren't going out of their ways to talk to us either. I suppose that they assumed we weren't to be trusted - after all, we were criminals of the first degree, the worst kind of scum.
As if they were much better.
The only loud noises in the prison were the angry yells of the guards we had shut up in isolation, and the clacking sounds of Snape's shoes as he paced up and down underneath the gallery. He was concerned about something, but we didn't know what. Maybe he secretly agreed with Harry in that he thought the attack would come today. He wouldn't talk of it.
I watched him from the end of Helga Alley, where our group of friends were trying to play cards, trying to show that we weren't concerned about what was going to happen. It didn't much work, since Harry was more interested in falling asleep on me than playing cards, and it was all I could do to keep my hands off him.
Finally Rubber decided he couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm not going to help you all be miserable," he said with conviction. "Look at you all! Claw, Gary, this isn't the end of the world we're talking about! Eddie, you're usually the one we all tell off for telling jokes at the wrong times! Harry, did you get *any* sleep last night? And Draco, we're all well aware that you've been in love with Harry since way back when, but do you have to flaunt it?"
After reading us that lecture, he promptly bent all his bones backwards. We couldn't help but laugh.
But it didn't last, it couldn't last. There was a dark shadow hanging over us that forbade laughter, that discouraged happy thoughts or looks or words. And we were helpless but to obey it. It hung over the whole prison, a dark spectre, a dark shadow of death and the only laughter was that of the madman in whichever cell he was in. He was so mad that when everyone else had been unlocked and brought out of their cells, Harry had decreed that he should be left where he was.
And the madman cared nothing for any attack that might be coming to us today.
The attack did come. It came only a few minutes before midday, and we were ready for it, even if the resistance was not. But they were practiced enough at fighting without any warning, so the edge of surprise that Voldemort had intended did not work.
None of us prisoners were much help, I saw that within moments of the Death Eaters Apparating into the prison - they had evidently taken down the wards. Others saw it to, and took to the relative safety of the uppermost cells, where the Death Eaters could scarcely reach them, and where they could watch the battle that waged on the ground floor.
It was a battle, a hideous, ugly battle. I crouched on the bridge of Salazar Alley most of the time, although I sometimes ran around looking for anyone who had been hurt, hoping that I could do something, anything to help Harry.
There was nothing I could do; the Death Eaters took no prisoners, and neither, it seemed, did the resistance. Harry sometimes seemed to be duelling with half a dozen wizards at a time; Snape seemed to be everywhere, and Black was just the same. The others of the resistance were fast, but not fast enough in many cases.
Soon bodies littered the prison, and I crouched again on the bridge over Salazar Alley, watching Snape be killed by an unnamed Death Eater, watching Harry barely able to spare a glance to our former teacher.
I don't believe in God, but please God, keep him safe.
A moment later, I forgot about Harry. A voice, a very familiar cold, slightly nasal voice spoke my name from behind me.
"Draco."
That was all it took for me to know who it was. For eleven years I had heard that voice every day. For years afterwards it was still the most familiar voice to me in the world I straightened, and took a breath before turning around to face him.
He stood there as though he hadn't a care in the world, as if a massacre wasn't taking place around us. So he had always been, I recalled with bitterness. Whatever was going on could not affect the great lord of the manor.
"Hello, Father," I greeted, sounding more calm than I felt. I couldn't believe it. He was there. He was there, standing right in front of me, his wand clasped in his right hand. He lifted it, and I was terrified. I knew what he was about to do. I knew, and I could do nothing to stop it.
"No, Draco!" I heard Harry scream from somewhere below me. I couldn't turn, I couldn't take my eyes off him. His gray eyes, identical to mine. His silvery-blonde hair, with a few streaks of white-gray now. His arrogant, arrogant posture.
"Go to hell," I whispered.
His eyes flashed. He opened his mouth to speak two words. I let my hands drop to hang by my side. It was over. I knew it, he knew it...Harry knew it, or he would.
I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen, I never meant to love you, I never meant to let you get hurt, I never meant...
"Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light, then a distant wail, and then -
The End.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Replies to reviews will follow in a longer author's note.