Consanguineous
Summary: Caged between those skeleton pages lie those who never really left the barren cells.
Authors Note: Thanks to Anna for the summary. Er. And thanks to Anna and Margaret for betaing it. :)
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"High Security Cell 108."
He barely hears the woman call out his cell number as five guards surround him, their eyes gleaming of speculation and interest. How great he has fallen—Lucius Malfoy to prisoner. He doesn't put a fight as they drag him, his feet making lengthy valleys in the once flat dirt. His eyes are dull, his face contorted in a grimace of shame.
It's all turns and turns; he has long lost sense of direction. There's a woman on his left in a cell, her gaunt features in a look of disbelief and she stretches out her bony arm slowly as he passes and flips it over. He flinches, even in his weakened state. She bares her teeth at him.
He wants it to end, the ghastly screams, the hallow eyes of all that he passes. A guard looks at him suddenly, and he sees that the guard's eyes are filled with the horror that he has lived in. It's like a skeleton in your closet, he thinks, it keeps on eating at you until you're nothing left a wisp of shadow. The trip to his cell and he's never wanted to go any place more.
They stop moving him and he looks up from his feet. It's one of the few dementors left in Azkaban and it's passing him on another line of cells. It turns to face him.
…Father, why are you doing this? You're hurting me…Crucio...What are you doing! Somebody help me…you raped a ten year old girl, Lucius. How could you?…Son, you will join our Cause and be greater than me, greater than anyone else the Lord has seen…
He wants to scream and scream until all the remnants of dignity that he has drop to the ground and burn. It's as if he's has never felt happy, never felt the thrill of torture, never had the sun touch his skin.
His legs burn from walking, and he turn his head up in desire of anything, anything but the gray skies he wants to obliterate just like he has done to any happiness that his family might ever have.
It's a damned cloudy day.
He's thrown into his cell and faces the wall, while looking out of the corner of his eye and wants anyone to turn back to tell him that he might survive in this place.
They don't.
Sighing, he moves closer to the corner of the wall—and feels something other than the dirt. It's a round and thin object, with something rectangular under it. His eyes suddenly having a spark of interest and he digs with his fingernails crusted with blood.
It's a book and a quill.
It's a ragged book, marred with ink stains, ripped pages, and too many tears. He looks curiously at the title.Consanguineous, it says and a light smirk grazes his features. Looking through the pages, he finds them full of blots of ink, nothing readable. It's a curse, he knows it, and he feels a scintilla of joy as he remembers a spell that he once used like this many years ago to transfer information to a certain Pettigrew. He turns the book over to its cover.
Silently, he grasps the quill with his hand with bones sticking out visibly and pricks himself on the tip of his ring finger. A drop of blood crawls down his finger and he watches it fall onto the cover. Words form from the ink in front of his eyes and he looks around to see if any guards are coming in both directions.
He stands up slowly and walks to the front of his cell, looking to see anyone.
There's no one left in the row but him.
He sits down, as slowly as he stood up, and flips open the first page.