Disclaimers and warnings in chapter 1.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A great Hope fell
You heard no noise
The Ruin was within.
- Emily Dickinson
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The darkness was suddenly shot through with suddenly shot through with cold, pale streaks. Neville tried to open his eyes, but the light sent a jolt of pain through his head. Even after squeezing his eyes tightly shut again, he could feel the ache spreading through every centimeter of his brain and down to the base of his skull. He groaned and tried to roll away from the light, only to find that his wrists and ankles and been tightly bound with thick ropes. As he slowly regained consciousness, he began to register more pain; the bonds on his wrists were biting into his flesh, and he had a dull ache between his shoulder blades.
He heard a rustling sound and then the low murmur of voices. He risked opening his eyes again, and the pain wasn't nearly as horrible as before. A shadow fell across his form, and, if he squinted, he could make out the shape of a large man towering over him. The man gave a small grunt, delivered a sound kick to Neville's bound legs, and walked away. A door opened, then shut heavily, and the room was blanketed in silence.
After adjusting to the light, he managed to sit himself up against a wall, and he surveyed his surroundings. He was in a small room, lit only by a tiny, naked bulb hanging down. There was one tiny window near the ceiling, but the only light that shone through was starlight. 'I'd never be able to crawl through there.'
He sighed, and rested his forehead on his knees, trying not to concentrate on pain. He soon found this nearly impossible, but it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. The more he focused on what hurt, the less it actually seemed to. It was as if he was chasing the ache on its chaotic journey through his nerves. He could almost see it; a little nervous system map etched behind his eyelids. Each facet of pain was a dark blot against the pure white, and he followed them diligently, squashing them into nothingness.
He realized that he was hungry. ~I wonder how long it's been since I ate.~ He once again took inventory of his surroundings, and decided that he wasn't hungry enough to eat through the ropes binding him yet. He'd save that for a real emergency.
He dozed off for a while soon after, and when he woke his head didn't hurt quite so badly. He was hungrier, and now he was absolutely terrified. Everything, even the sounds of his feet lightly scraping on the floor made his heart race, and he realized that there was a good chance he would be dead soon. He wanted to take his mind off of it, and fumed because he couldn't even pace about his tiny cell. He decided to sing; something chipper would do nicely.
"One, two and three jolly coachmen sat in an English tavern,
Three jolly coachmen sat in an English tavern,
And they decided,
And they decided,
And they decided,
To have another flagon."
His voice echoed weirdly in the empty room. And, well, it was keeping him occupied, but it also served as a painful reminder that he was thirsty now. And that he may never have a never have another beer in his life. He sighed. He missed a lot of things, all of a sudden. Like the way that Justin would snuggle up to him on the couch when it was cold out, and just hold him. He wanted to feel those strong arms around him, holding him tight and keeping him safe.
He once again put his head on his knees and turned his thoughts to the one thing that meant more to him in life than his next breath. Holding his memories close to his heart, he began to sleep lightly again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Neville woke suddenly when the door to his room opened. He groggily wondered why he was on the floor of Justin's apartment. He couldn't remember coming here for anything. Something was coming back to him, some sort of memory. He grasped at it mentally, trying to remember how he had ended up here with a pounding headache. And then suddenly he remembered what had happened. He could feel the roped biting into his wrists again, and winced.
The door hinges squeaked, and his breath caught when two large men walked through it. They seemed to tower over him, blocking out everything. Their faces seemed devoid of emotion, though one of them did have a tiny sneer on his lips. ~Don't show them you're scared. Be brave, be brave, be brave...~ he chanted mentally, trying to draw strength from the thoughts.
The two men came towards him, and one of them bent down to untie Neville's ankles. "Up." He said, and before Neville could even act on the command, the second man grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet. Without another word, they marched him from the room.
"Where are you taking me?" Neville asked. The men said nothing, just continued to lead him down a plain hallway. His arms hurt where they were holding him, cutting off the circulation with their vise-like grips. He squirmed a bit, trying to get them to let up. It didn't work. Their faces remained devoid of emotion, their eyes focused straight forward. It seemed as if they didn't even know there was a third person with them.
They turned at the end of a hallway, and Neville saw a corridor exactly like the one his room had been in. They continued down it, their pace never lagging, and then stopped abruptly. One of the men rapped on a plain maroon door, and it swung open on its own, spilling light over the three of them.
Neville was pushed forward into the room, and he had to squint against the bright light. He tried to stop, but was shoved roughly in the back. As he moved forward, he saw a snug little room. A large, plush chair sat behind a large oak desk in the corner. Paintings of quiet country scenes hung on the walls, which were painted deep maroon. A large couch sat against one wall, and a small round table with cushioned chairs was next to it.
Neville's escorts stopped in the middle of the room and stood absolutely still. He glanced from one to the other, wondering what was going to happen to him. He was concentrating very hard on not shaking. It wasn't working too well, and he thought his bones were about to rattle right out of his skin. He was about to ask what was going on when the door to the room opened, and Lucius Malfoy stepped in.
Neville drew in a sharp breath. After his long conversations with Draco, he had more than enough reasons to hate and fear Lucius. He thought for a moment that his legs would give out. Lucius glanced at them, and then took the large chair behind the desk.
Lucius folded his hands primly on the top of the desk, and quirked his lips into a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Mr. Longbottom." His smile grew almost imperceptibly. Why don't you take a seat?" He gestured towards a chair in front of his desk. Neville felt the hands holding him in place let go, but he stood still for a moment, too scared and angry and confused to do anything.
He finally took a deep breath and sat down facing Lucius. Neville sat very stiffly, his back straight and his feet flat on the floor. He stared at a point on the wall just to the right on Lucius's head, not wanting to look into those cold gray eyes.
"Mr. Longbottom. We need your help."
Neville looked at Lucius. He could feel his surprise showing on his face. "What?" he asked, incredulously.
Lucius smiled. "We need your help. Is that so hard to believe?" Neville narrowed his eyes and turned away again.
"I'll never help you with anything." He hoped he came across as determined.
"You haven't heard our offer yet." Lucius's voice was soft, but had a frightening edge to it. Neville raised his chin a bit as an answer. He stared at the wall again. "Mr. Longbottom. Look at me." Neville squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then turned. Lucius wasn't smiling anymore.
"We can make life extremely difficult for you. If you'll simply agree to do what we want right now, you won't have to find out the hard way."
Neville bit his lip, and narrowed his eyes. "I don't even want to hear what sort of scheme you have for me. I'll bloody well die before I'll ever do anything for you, or your little friends here."
The look on Lucius' face became almost deadly. "You will be very, *very* sorry about that decision, young man."
Neville shrugged. "Do what you want to me."
"It's not you that you should be worried about." This dampened some of Neville's resolve, but he didn't say a word.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "You still aren't willing to help us at all?" Neville shook his head, trying to be brave. Lucius clucked his tongue. "That is a pity." He snapped his fingers and two Death Eaters came in, with a third person held tightly between them. Neville gasped when he saw Justin's face, the fear playing across his smooth, beautiful features. His curly brown hair was sticking out in every direction, some of it sweeping into his brown eyes. He had a large gash across his left arm, and a purple-blue bruise stained the pale skin of his neck.
Justin looked up, and his eyes met Neville's. There was pain and fear etched around them. Neville swallowed deeply and then mouthed 'I love you' to him. Then he turned to Lucius.
"If. If you kill him, you'll never get another god damned word out of me." Neville was furious, and scared, and Justin looked so fragile between the two thick-bodied men holding him.
Lucius just smiled. "Whoever said anything about killing?" He turned lazily in his chair and pointed his wand at Justin. "Crucio," he said, his tone almost light. Justin screamed and fell to the floor, his face contorted with agony. His body began to spasm, and he cried out in pain repeatedly. His eyes were pinched closed, and he clutched his hands to his chest, as if trying to chase away the pain.
"NO!" Neville cried, trying to rise, to get to his lover and sooth him and make it all better. A pair of strong hands came down hard on his shoulders, forcing him to sit. He kept his eyes on Justin, trying to give him strength. Lucius was looking at him again, an amused expression on his face.
"You know what happens when you are under the Cruciatus spell for too long, Longbottom?" He paused, as if he expected a response. "You go insane," he continued. "You lose every memory of anyone you ever loved. Parents. Children. Lovers. All of it gone. But, you know all about that, don't you Mr. Longbottom?"
Neville was too shocked to even react. He was surrounded by Justin's screams and images of his parents. And then he imagined Justin's eyes as empty as his mother's when she looked at him. He closed his eyes feeling tears begin to well up.
"Okay." His voice was barely above a whisper.
"What was that?"
"Please. I'll do whatever you want. Just...don't hurt him anymore."
Lucius looked at him for a long moment, than waved his hand. The two men surrounding Justin hauled him to his feet and shoved him roughly out the door. He could barely hold himself up.
"I'm so glad we could come to an agreement, Mr. Longbottom. I think we'll both be happier for it."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A great Hope fell
You heard no noise
The Ruin was within.
- Emily Dickinson
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The darkness was suddenly shot through with suddenly shot through with cold, pale streaks. Neville tried to open his eyes, but the light sent a jolt of pain through his head. Even after squeezing his eyes tightly shut again, he could feel the ache spreading through every centimeter of his brain and down to the base of his skull. He groaned and tried to roll away from the light, only to find that his wrists and ankles and been tightly bound with thick ropes. As he slowly regained consciousness, he began to register more pain; the bonds on his wrists were biting into his flesh, and he had a dull ache between his shoulder blades.
He heard a rustling sound and then the low murmur of voices. He risked opening his eyes again, and the pain wasn't nearly as horrible as before. A shadow fell across his form, and, if he squinted, he could make out the shape of a large man towering over him. The man gave a small grunt, delivered a sound kick to Neville's bound legs, and walked away. A door opened, then shut heavily, and the room was blanketed in silence.
After adjusting to the light, he managed to sit himself up against a wall, and he surveyed his surroundings. He was in a small room, lit only by a tiny, naked bulb hanging down. There was one tiny window near the ceiling, but the only light that shone through was starlight. 'I'd never be able to crawl through there.'
He sighed, and rested his forehead on his knees, trying not to concentrate on pain. He soon found this nearly impossible, but it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. The more he focused on what hurt, the less it actually seemed to. It was as if he was chasing the ache on its chaotic journey through his nerves. He could almost see it; a little nervous system map etched behind his eyelids. Each facet of pain was a dark blot against the pure white, and he followed them diligently, squashing them into nothingness.
He realized that he was hungry. ~I wonder how long it's been since I ate.~ He once again took inventory of his surroundings, and decided that he wasn't hungry enough to eat through the ropes binding him yet. He'd save that for a real emergency.
He dozed off for a while soon after, and when he woke his head didn't hurt quite so badly. He was hungrier, and now he was absolutely terrified. Everything, even the sounds of his feet lightly scraping on the floor made his heart race, and he realized that there was a good chance he would be dead soon. He wanted to take his mind off of it, and fumed because he couldn't even pace about his tiny cell. He decided to sing; something chipper would do nicely.
"One, two and three jolly coachmen sat in an English tavern,
Three jolly coachmen sat in an English tavern,
And they decided,
And they decided,
And they decided,
To have another flagon."
His voice echoed weirdly in the empty room. And, well, it was keeping him occupied, but it also served as a painful reminder that he was thirsty now. And that he may never have a never have another beer in his life. He sighed. He missed a lot of things, all of a sudden. Like the way that Justin would snuggle up to him on the couch when it was cold out, and just hold him. He wanted to feel those strong arms around him, holding him tight and keeping him safe.
He once again put his head on his knees and turned his thoughts to the one thing that meant more to him in life than his next breath. Holding his memories close to his heart, he began to sleep lightly again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Neville woke suddenly when the door to his room opened. He groggily wondered why he was on the floor of Justin's apartment. He couldn't remember coming here for anything. Something was coming back to him, some sort of memory. He grasped at it mentally, trying to remember how he had ended up here with a pounding headache. And then suddenly he remembered what had happened. He could feel the roped biting into his wrists again, and winced.
The door hinges squeaked, and his breath caught when two large men walked through it. They seemed to tower over him, blocking out everything. Their faces seemed devoid of emotion, though one of them did have a tiny sneer on his lips. ~Don't show them you're scared. Be brave, be brave, be brave...~ he chanted mentally, trying to draw strength from the thoughts.
The two men came towards him, and one of them bent down to untie Neville's ankles. "Up." He said, and before Neville could even act on the command, the second man grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet. Without another word, they marched him from the room.
"Where are you taking me?" Neville asked. The men said nothing, just continued to lead him down a plain hallway. His arms hurt where they were holding him, cutting off the circulation with their vise-like grips. He squirmed a bit, trying to get them to let up. It didn't work. Their faces remained devoid of emotion, their eyes focused straight forward. It seemed as if they didn't even know there was a third person with them.
They turned at the end of a hallway, and Neville saw a corridor exactly like the one his room had been in. They continued down it, their pace never lagging, and then stopped abruptly. One of the men rapped on a plain maroon door, and it swung open on its own, spilling light over the three of them.
Neville was pushed forward into the room, and he had to squint against the bright light. He tried to stop, but was shoved roughly in the back. As he moved forward, he saw a snug little room. A large, plush chair sat behind a large oak desk in the corner. Paintings of quiet country scenes hung on the walls, which were painted deep maroon. A large couch sat against one wall, and a small round table with cushioned chairs was next to it.
Neville's escorts stopped in the middle of the room and stood absolutely still. He glanced from one to the other, wondering what was going to happen to him. He was concentrating very hard on not shaking. It wasn't working too well, and he thought his bones were about to rattle right out of his skin. He was about to ask what was going on when the door to the room opened, and Lucius Malfoy stepped in.
Neville drew in a sharp breath. After his long conversations with Draco, he had more than enough reasons to hate and fear Lucius. He thought for a moment that his legs would give out. Lucius glanced at them, and then took the large chair behind the desk.
Lucius folded his hands primly on the top of the desk, and quirked his lips into a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Mr. Longbottom." His smile grew almost imperceptibly. Why don't you take a seat?" He gestured towards a chair in front of his desk. Neville felt the hands holding him in place let go, but he stood still for a moment, too scared and angry and confused to do anything.
He finally took a deep breath and sat down facing Lucius. Neville sat very stiffly, his back straight and his feet flat on the floor. He stared at a point on the wall just to the right on Lucius's head, not wanting to look into those cold gray eyes.
"Mr. Longbottom. We need your help."
Neville looked at Lucius. He could feel his surprise showing on his face. "What?" he asked, incredulously.
Lucius smiled. "We need your help. Is that so hard to believe?" Neville narrowed his eyes and turned away again.
"I'll never help you with anything." He hoped he came across as determined.
"You haven't heard our offer yet." Lucius's voice was soft, but had a frightening edge to it. Neville raised his chin a bit as an answer. He stared at the wall again. "Mr. Longbottom. Look at me." Neville squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then turned. Lucius wasn't smiling anymore.
"We can make life extremely difficult for you. If you'll simply agree to do what we want right now, you won't have to find out the hard way."
Neville bit his lip, and narrowed his eyes. "I don't even want to hear what sort of scheme you have for me. I'll bloody well die before I'll ever do anything for you, or your little friends here."
The look on Lucius' face became almost deadly. "You will be very, *very* sorry about that decision, young man."
Neville shrugged. "Do what you want to me."
"It's not you that you should be worried about." This dampened some of Neville's resolve, but he didn't say a word.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "You still aren't willing to help us at all?" Neville shook his head, trying to be brave. Lucius clucked his tongue. "That is a pity." He snapped his fingers and two Death Eaters came in, with a third person held tightly between them. Neville gasped when he saw Justin's face, the fear playing across his smooth, beautiful features. His curly brown hair was sticking out in every direction, some of it sweeping into his brown eyes. He had a large gash across his left arm, and a purple-blue bruise stained the pale skin of his neck.
Justin looked up, and his eyes met Neville's. There was pain and fear etched around them. Neville swallowed deeply and then mouthed 'I love you' to him. Then he turned to Lucius.
"If. If you kill him, you'll never get another god damned word out of me." Neville was furious, and scared, and Justin looked so fragile between the two thick-bodied men holding him.
Lucius just smiled. "Whoever said anything about killing?" He turned lazily in his chair and pointed his wand at Justin. "Crucio," he said, his tone almost light. Justin screamed and fell to the floor, his face contorted with agony. His body began to spasm, and he cried out in pain repeatedly. His eyes were pinched closed, and he clutched his hands to his chest, as if trying to chase away the pain.
"NO!" Neville cried, trying to rise, to get to his lover and sooth him and make it all better. A pair of strong hands came down hard on his shoulders, forcing him to sit. He kept his eyes on Justin, trying to give him strength. Lucius was looking at him again, an amused expression on his face.
"You know what happens when you are under the Cruciatus spell for too long, Longbottom?" He paused, as if he expected a response. "You go insane," he continued. "You lose every memory of anyone you ever loved. Parents. Children. Lovers. All of it gone. But, you know all about that, don't you Mr. Longbottom?"
Neville was too shocked to even react. He was surrounded by Justin's screams and images of his parents. And then he imagined Justin's eyes as empty as his mother's when she looked at him. He closed his eyes feeling tears begin to well up.
"Okay." His voice was barely above a whisper.
"What was that?"
"Please. I'll do whatever you want. Just...don't hurt him anymore."
Lucius looked at him for a long moment, than waved his hand. The two men surrounding Justin hauled him to his feet and shoved him roughly out the door. He could barely hold himself up.
"I'm so glad we could come to an agreement, Mr. Longbottom. I think we'll both be happier for it."