° Sea of Endless Grey °
A/N: By the way, 'je deteste...' means 'I hate...' :)
The chains, which bound his grimy hands together, grated at the little flesh he had left on his wrists as Harry shifted his arms into a more comfortable position. Damn it, Potter, why'd you let him get to you like that? Now Hermione could be in danger and it's because you're a stupid git. Play it cool with Malfoy and things will be all right. Suddenly, the solid wall he'd built to keep his emotions at bay broke, unfathomable sorrow and fury filling every vein within his body. Shit! Stop this nonsense, don't let that arsehole get the best of you again, he ordered silently. He just wants to make you slip and say something that would give him an excuse to abuse Hermione. You can't give him that excuse. Tightening his bony fists to release his anger for Malfoy, the emaciated young man began to shiver with his rage and the growing lack of heat now that the sun had set.
Harry's mind began to turn rapidly as his thoughts ran through all possible scenarios of escape. With a sigh, he admitted the prospect of escape was futile. First off, the ugly chains were not the only bonds keeping him there. There were powerful spells placed on every object within the cell (except, perhaps, the metal toilet in the corner). The only way he could get out of there and rescue Hermione was to have his wand in his possession again. Bloody great chance of that happening! he thought bitterly. I wonder if there's anyway to make Malfoy think I'm on his side... Letting his skull rest back on the steel wall behind him, Harry allowed himself to doze off.
. . . -l-. . .
A loud rapping noise brought Harry to a conscious state. Snapping his head up to glare at the interloper, Harry groaned in protest. The figure which entered the cell was none other than Malfoy, perfectly composed, as usual. He was clad in black silk trousers and a russet silk shirt, unbuttoned to expose his chest and stomach-Harry swallowed and dragged his eyes away, mentally chastising himself. This was Malfoy, the sick bastard who had brought him here, the one who threatened to harm Hermione. Retaining his grip on reality, Harry stared directly into the serene eyes of his captor, filtering all of his negative thoughts and pain in his glare.
"Don't give me that look, Potter. Hey, you don't look so good--why don't you behave like a good boy and eat your meals? You'd find things a lot easier to handle," Draco taunted, leaning back against the wall, his gaze bright with smug amusement.
Harry snorted, "You think I'd take anything from you? You're a bastard, a fucking bastard! You helped kill Ron and you're keeping Hermione captive...why the hell should I trust you enough to eat your food, eh?"
Draco arched an elegant honey-colored brow. "Feisty, Potter? Well, Granger is getting along all right, you really ought to be more polite with me though, because if you were...maybe we could come to an arrangement. You might get to see Granger if you use your manners..."
Harry's eyes widened in disbelief; this offer was too good to be true, "You--you mean it?" he gasped, his eyes growing misty with emotion.
Draco shrugged nonchalantly, "Sure, but you've got to keep yourself alive and--for Granger's sake, take a bath! You smell."
Harry rolled his eyes, "And how am I supposed to do that, Malfoy? Do you see a tub anywhere around here?"
Draco smirked and gave a sigh, "Obviously we'll provide you with the proper tools to cleanse yourself. Do as you're told and you may see Granger in a week."
Harry raised his eyebrows, a puzzled look crossing over his face. "Why the hell are you bothering with visitations, Malfoy? I thought you had no feelings."
Draco smirked, "Oh, come on, Potter, I need to keep you alive. The only reason you feel you have to keep living is to live for Granger, I know that. I'm not a dolt, so don't take me for one. It's obvious, all I have to do is look into those eyes of yours...did you honestly think you could hide it?"
Harry drew in his breath sharply. Draco had hit it dead center...he had no other real reason to stay alive. Ron was gone, hope for escaping was meager if there was any, and all other reasons for living had fled him weeks before. He had kept staring at the dull pewter walls, those endless seas of dead steel. Like those walls, Harry had become nearly inhuman--more like a dummy than the promising young man he once was. "Heh--for once your brain is working right, Malfoy. I'd never abandon Hermione. You are a dolt, though."
A slight smile flickered on Draco's lips. "Don't worry Potter, I don't want to hurt Granger, not really. Damn, you lot really were clueless during the Hogwarts years...weren't you? So blind, so fucking blind! You morons...oh well. Better for you not to know, in the end." With that, he slipped out of the cell, cursing softly under his breath.
Harry blinked, What the hell is Malfoy talking about? Hogwarts years...what the hell was there to see? Oh, I don't give a damn. With a sigh Harry leaned back against the cold barrier, lids closing over his weary eyes once again. But if there was nothing to see, why did Malfoy seem so worked up? His eyes...they were troubled--almost as if he were in pain. Fuck, what do I care? I hate the son of a bitch! All thoughts fleeing his mind, the young wizard let himself get lost in his dreams once again...