Holy cow. I've never gotten so many reviews so quickly in my life before...thank you so much to everybody! I can't answer them all, but...
Irblise - You are correct to be keeping an eye on 'the gorgeous Mr. Trent'...who knows what will happen (besides me, that is)??
Nokia - I hate them as well...and is there a good way to be evil?
Ally - I'm terrible at coming up with reasons why Harry and Draco should be together; I just love the pairing, so you can come up with a backstory for it (there are tons of fics that explain it, so I didn't think one more would be very helpful).
St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Homosexual Boys... by AnonymousBystander
Chapter Two - The Wallpaper Room
Harry looked incredulously at the matress once more, putting his hand against it a pushing down. It felt like carboard that had been dipped in water, dried, melted, reformed, and finally baked. Harry had difficulty trying in his own mind to describe what the matress exactly felt like. 'Uncomfortable,' he finally settled on, unable to think of something more descriptive.
He pulled himself up to the top bunk and attempted to flop onto the bed, but when he did so, his already aching right arm hit against one of the steel bars underneath the matress that held up the top bunk. Instead of cushioning him, the matress seemed to just make the impact worse, and he cried out in pain. "Fuck," he muttered to himself, examining his throbbing wrist.
The bed shook; somebody had just gotten onto the bottom bunk. Harry peeked his head down the side to look.
The boy to whom Mr. Devici had referred to as "Mr. Trent" lay spread-eagled on the thin matress, eyes staring off into space. 'Showing off his amazing body,' Harry thought to himself.
Harry held his hand down to Mr. Trent. "I'm Harry Potter," he said.
Mr. Trent looked at him for a moment, then shook his hand briefly, saying, "Mike Trent."
"Look," said Harry, "I'm sorry about before, with Mr. Devici. I didn't mean to--"
"I know you didn't mean it," cut in Mike. Harry wasn't sure if Mike was rejecting him or being nice to him.
One by one, the other four introduced themselves. Jon was a quiet boy with a great sense of humor - whenever he spoke; Robert was round-faced and tall with hair that was almost white and striking bright blue eyes; and Troy and Greg were identical twins, short with brown hair.
"So," said Troy, when everybody had proclaimed who they were, "what are you all in for. Oh wait, I remember now, we're here for being who we are."
"This is the stupidest thing EVER," said Greg, groaning. Everybody softly agreed.
There was a moment of silence where everybody in the room stared up either at the bunk on top of them, or at the cold, grey ceiling, contemplating.
"Anybody going to turn straight on us, here?" said Jon quietly.
"No," everybody else replied instantly.
"I'm a fag," said Mike, "and I'd prefer to stay that way, thank you very much."
All of a sudden, the lights went out, and they were plunged into complete and utter darkness.
"Well," said Troy bitterly, "we should get some sleep."
Harry pulled off of his shirt and pulled the hard, scratchy rags that they called blankets up to his chin.
He wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.
-----
At six-thirty the next morning, the lights came on. Because there were no windows in the room, it was the first light that entered the room, and everybody woke instantly.
"Aww, Jeez," called out Troy, shielding his eyes with one forearm. "Maybe they could have been a _bit_ more subtle?"
"We're fags, remember?" said Greg. "They don't give a fuck."
Everybody got out of bed.
"Hey," said Jon, "are they going to give us anymore clothing?"
At that moment, they heard Mr. Devici's voice through a speaker in the middle of the ceiling.
"Good morning, gentleman," he called out. "You will be expected to be ready to depart from your room in less than fifteen minutes. You will wear the clothing in which you came. If you have any questions, show some restraint, and don't ask them." Click. The speaker went dead.
"Well, that answers my question," muttered Jon.
Harry slipped off of the top bunk and landed catlike on the ground next to the bed. He slipped on his shirt and pulled on his shoes; he hadn't bothered to untie them the night before.
"Well," said Harry, "I'm ready."
"Who's Draco?" muttered a voice behind him softly, so that only he could hear.
Harry spun on his heal to come face to face with Mike. "How do you --"
"You talk in your sleep," said Mike with a sheepish grin.
"Oh," said Harry. "He's my boyfriend."
"Ooh..."
There was a slightly awkward pause.
"He hot?"
Harry considered for a moment. "Hell yeah."
The door clanged open and two guards carrying uzis entered the room. "Follow, and do not attempt to run away," one of them barked.
They followed the guards through yet another labyrinth-like series of hallways and stairways until they reached another room bearing a "Homosexuals" plaque on the door.
"I feel right at home," Jon muttered as they entered the room.
"Holy FUCK!" yelled one of the twins (Harry couldn't tell which one).
A second later, as Harry was pushed through the doorway, he understood why they had said it. Every square inch of wallspace of the large room they were in was covered with a picture of a naked woman, or multiple naked women engaged in activities Harry didn't think were possible. He nearly gagged, it was so vile.
A moment later, Mr. Devici entered the room, a smug smile firmly planted on his lips.
"Welcome, boys, to the first stage of our operation here at St. Brutus's; this is called the Wallpaper Room, and you'll be here all day." He motioned towards six doors at the other end of the room (Harry hadn't noticed them before, because they were "wallpapered", just like the rest of the room). "Each of those rooms has a little surprise for you. Everybody enter one now, please. You will receive more instructions inside"
They walked to the other side of the room and each entered one of the smaller rooms. The inside was small and cramped, and was decorated with exactly the same type of wallpaper as the other room. There was a large television screen - black, for now - right in front of an innocent looking wood chair.
Harry closed the door behind him. As he closed it, he heard a lock click closed. He was trapped, like a ginea pig in some heinous experiment.
"Thank you for entering the rooms," said Mr. Devici's voice through a speaker. "Please note that each of these rooms is monitored by camera and microphone, so if you do not comply with our instructions, we can...make you, and it won't be pleasant. Now, if you'd be so kind to remove your shirts."
Knowing that they certainly could "make him", Harry complied, throwing the dirty shirt onto the floor.
"Now, please drop your trousers and your underwear and sit down on the chair with your hands on the arms."
What kind of sicko was this man? What on earth were they going to do with this kind of thing? Knowing it would be worse if he didn't, he complied with all of the instructions, laying his arms lightly on the chair's armrests. Immediately, some cleverly disguised metal hoops clicked into place, binding Harry's arms onto the chair. He tried to stand up, but the chair was bolted to the floor.
"Shit," muttered Harry.
"Thank you all," said Mr. Devici's voice. "You'll be here for the duration of the day. Enjoy your stay." Click, and he was gone.
Then, the TV screen came to life.
-----
As was requested, I made this chapter longer (but it took me forever to write). I hope you like it. Review and I'll update again!
Irblise - You are correct to be keeping an eye on 'the gorgeous Mr. Trent'...who knows what will happen (besides me, that is)??
Nokia - I hate them as well...and is there a good way to be evil?
Ally - I'm terrible at coming up with reasons why Harry and Draco should be together; I just love the pairing, so you can come up with a backstory for it (there are tons of fics that explain it, so I didn't think one more would be very helpful).
St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Homosexual Boys... by AnonymousBystander
Chapter Two - The Wallpaper Room
Harry looked incredulously at the matress once more, putting his hand against it a pushing down. It felt like carboard that had been dipped in water, dried, melted, reformed, and finally baked. Harry had difficulty trying in his own mind to describe what the matress exactly felt like. 'Uncomfortable,' he finally settled on, unable to think of something more descriptive.
He pulled himself up to the top bunk and attempted to flop onto the bed, but when he did so, his already aching right arm hit against one of the steel bars underneath the matress that held up the top bunk. Instead of cushioning him, the matress seemed to just make the impact worse, and he cried out in pain. "Fuck," he muttered to himself, examining his throbbing wrist.
The bed shook; somebody had just gotten onto the bottom bunk. Harry peeked his head down the side to look.
The boy to whom Mr. Devici had referred to as "Mr. Trent" lay spread-eagled on the thin matress, eyes staring off into space. 'Showing off his amazing body,' Harry thought to himself.
Harry held his hand down to Mr. Trent. "I'm Harry Potter," he said.
Mr. Trent looked at him for a moment, then shook his hand briefly, saying, "Mike Trent."
"Look," said Harry, "I'm sorry about before, with Mr. Devici. I didn't mean to--"
"I know you didn't mean it," cut in Mike. Harry wasn't sure if Mike was rejecting him or being nice to him.
One by one, the other four introduced themselves. Jon was a quiet boy with a great sense of humor - whenever he spoke; Robert was round-faced and tall with hair that was almost white and striking bright blue eyes; and Troy and Greg were identical twins, short with brown hair.
"So," said Troy, when everybody had proclaimed who they were, "what are you all in for. Oh wait, I remember now, we're here for being who we are."
"This is the stupidest thing EVER," said Greg, groaning. Everybody softly agreed.
There was a moment of silence where everybody in the room stared up either at the bunk on top of them, or at the cold, grey ceiling, contemplating.
"Anybody going to turn straight on us, here?" said Jon quietly.
"No," everybody else replied instantly.
"I'm a fag," said Mike, "and I'd prefer to stay that way, thank you very much."
All of a sudden, the lights went out, and they were plunged into complete and utter darkness.
"Well," said Troy bitterly, "we should get some sleep."
Harry pulled off of his shirt and pulled the hard, scratchy rags that they called blankets up to his chin.
He wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.
-----
At six-thirty the next morning, the lights came on. Because there were no windows in the room, it was the first light that entered the room, and everybody woke instantly.
"Aww, Jeez," called out Troy, shielding his eyes with one forearm. "Maybe they could have been a _bit_ more subtle?"
"We're fags, remember?" said Greg. "They don't give a fuck."
Everybody got out of bed.
"Hey," said Jon, "are they going to give us anymore clothing?"
At that moment, they heard Mr. Devici's voice through a speaker in the middle of the ceiling.
"Good morning, gentleman," he called out. "You will be expected to be ready to depart from your room in less than fifteen minutes. You will wear the clothing in which you came. If you have any questions, show some restraint, and don't ask them." Click. The speaker went dead.
"Well, that answers my question," muttered Jon.
Harry slipped off of the top bunk and landed catlike on the ground next to the bed. He slipped on his shirt and pulled on his shoes; he hadn't bothered to untie them the night before.
"Well," said Harry, "I'm ready."
"Who's Draco?" muttered a voice behind him softly, so that only he could hear.
Harry spun on his heal to come face to face with Mike. "How do you --"
"You talk in your sleep," said Mike with a sheepish grin.
"Oh," said Harry. "He's my boyfriend."
"Ooh..."
There was a slightly awkward pause.
"He hot?"
Harry considered for a moment. "Hell yeah."
The door clanged open and two guards carrying uzis entered the room. "Follow, and do not attempt to run away," one of them barked.
They followed the guards through yet another labyrinth-like series of hallways and stairways until they reached another room bearing a "Homosexuals" plaque on the door.
"I feel right at home," Jon muttered as they entered the room.
"Holy FUCK!" yelled one of the twins (Harry couldn't tell which one).
A second later, as Harry was pushed through the doorway, he understood why they had said it. Every square inch of wallspace of the large room they were in was covered with a picture of a naked woman, or multiple naked women engaged in activities Harry didn't think were possible. He nearly gagged, it was so vile.
A moment later, Mr. Devici entered the room, a smug smile firmly planted on his lips.
"Welcome, boys, to the first stage of our operation here at St. Brutus's; this is called the Wallpaper Room, and you'll be here all day." He motioned towards six doors at the other end of the room (Harry hadn't noticed them before, because they were "wallpapered", just like the rest of the room). "Each of those rooms has a little surprise for you. Everybody enter one now, please. You will receive more instructions inside"
They walked to the other side of the room and each entered one of the smaller rooms. The inside was small and cramped, and was decorated with exactly the same type of wallpaper as the other room. There was a large television screen - black, for now - right in front of an innocent looking wood chair.
Harry closed the door behind him. As he closed it, he heard a lock click closed. He was trapped, like a ginea pig in some heinous experiment.
"Thank you for entering the rooms," said Mr. Devici's voice through a speaker. "Please note that each of these rooms is monitored by camera and microphone, so if you do not comply with our instructions, we can...make you, and it won't be pleasant. Now, if you'd be so kind to remove your shirts."
Knowing that they certainly could "make him", Harry complied, throwing the dirty shirt onto the floor.
"Now, please drop your trousers and your underwear and sit down on the chair with your hands on the arms."
What kind of sicko was this man? What on earth were they going to do with this kind of thing? Knowing it would be worse if he didn't, he complied with all of the instructions, laying his arms lightly on the chair's armrests. Immediately, some cleverly disguised metal hoops clicked into place, binding Harry's arms onto the chair. He tried to stand up, but the chair was bolted to the floor.
"Shit," muttered Harry.
"Thank you all," said Mr. Devici's voice. "You'll be here for the duration of the day. Enjoy your stay." Click, and he was gone.
Then, the TV screen came to life.
-----
As was requested, I made this chapter longer (but it took me forever to write). I hope you like it. Review and I'll update again!