Draco could smell the dampness of the stone walls. No windows filtered morning light into the tiny room, where Draco lay on a thin mattress. Draco had endured long stretches of never seeing the sun, never setting foot outside the General's underground complex. He always looked forward to the occasional excursion outdoors to purchase (or plunder) brewing supplies - chaperoned, of course.
He'd barely slept through the night, which wasn't unusual. The memory of his mother's shaking voice and her face etched with pain kept him awake. Images of her sleeping on a hard, cold floor, her graying hair blackening with dirt, crying alone in a vault - these thoughts made his teeth grind painfully against each other.
In his dreams he would chase a shadowy, hook-nosed figure through dark tunnels. When he finally caught up to Severus Snape, he would hack his wand through the air, cursing his former mentor for failing to protect them.
No, last night was not unusual.
But this morning was.
Because Draco knew that Harry Potter was alive. He was here, not far down the corridor from Draco's very bedroom. How many times had he prayed for the idiot to return, stubborn jaw set and eyes blazing, to save the day once again?
Yet...something had happened to Potter, had altered the man who'd once boldly looked pure evil in the eye. Something catastrophic.
"He's useless now," Draco told the empty room. His glimmer of hope dulled.
A moment later, he heard a knock at the door. Mulciber's face filled the small window. "Sleeping in, Malfoy?" The door muffled the death eater's voice.
Draco grunted and rose from his bed, naked. That usually got Mulciber to piss off.
It worked. "Get to the potions lab," Mulciber called over his shoulder as he walked away.
Draco threw on a standard set of black robes. He dropped a bulky book into his pocket and shortly followed.
Before closing the heavy door behind him, he looked back into his room. It was cramped with only a small trunk and an unmade bed - if you could call a mattress on the floor a bed. It made his old bedroom in the Manor look like a palace. He swallowed; his mouth was dry.
Mulciber met him in the potions lab. He handed Draco his wand. It felt just right in Draco's hand, the wood warming his skin. He smiled down at it.
Mulciber cleared his throat and considered him coldly. "Start with the healing potions."
Draco nodded, then turned toward the bench. He extracted the heavy book from his robe and stroked the writing on the back cover...property of the Half-Blood Prince. He set the book in front of him and opened it to the healing potions.
He retrieved a cauldron, a jar of copper, and a bottle of shrake spines from the supply closet. Mulciber watched him with half attention.
He measured, then carefully placed the copper into a mortar. As he began to crush with a pestle, the outer world fell away. He could only feel the smoothness of the pestles, vials, and flasks in his hands; could only see the ingredients spread before him, the text marking the thin pages of the book, the minute letters Severus had traced in its margins…
Other than thoughts of his mother, potion-making was the only thing that kept him sane. He closed his eyes. "Focus your mind," he could almost hear Severus say.
He pushed away a painful image: disgust in Severus's eyes at catching Draco staring at him a moment too long.
Instead, he remembered his mentor's hands as he demonstrated the proper technique to measure liquids, crush seeds, and control the flame under the cauldron. He remembered the praise he'd given him, not with his caustic words, but with a brief softening of his dark eyes. He imagined the satisfying bubbling of a potion that had turned out just right.
Draco loved brewing. And he was bloody good at it.
If only his potions weren't probably murdering innocent people.
"Daydreaming, Malfoy?" said Mulciber, breaking him from his reverie. "Shall I let Narcissa know how seriously her son is taking her imprisonment?"
Draco felt heat rise to his face, but forced it back down. He calmly imagined stomping Mulciber in the throat. He turned and gave him a stiff smile.
"Mulciber," he said, attempting to keep the edge out of his voice. "How is she? You haven't let me see her in so long."
"Not to worry, Malfoy," said Mulciber. "We're taking good care of your traitor mother. Now back to work."
Draco remained frozen, searching Mulciber's eyes for signs of deception. He didn't dare use Legilimency; he couldn't risk the enemy discovering another one of his talents to use against him.
Without warning, Mulciber drew and slashed his wand. Draco stumbled backward, covering his face with his hands. When he tore them away, he saw that blood tinged his fingers. His cheek stung.
"Back to work," repeated Mulciber calmly.
Harry sat in the center of his cell, hugging his knees. He wondered faintly if someone would bring him something to eat.
Not that he felt hungry. He couldn't feel much of anything, really. Not for a long time. Except for anger, but even the rage over his capture felt like a distant memory now.
He thought of Malfoy. He wondered if it were true, what Malfoy had said. If he were enslaved, his mother held hostage. Did he have a reason to lie?
It didn't matter, anyway. Harry couldn't help him. He couldn't even help himself.
He looked over his shoulder. The remains of his wand lie in a corner of the cell. Just another reminder of his uselessness. He wondered why he'd held onto the wand all this time.
"Potter," came a gruff voice from beyond the cell bars.
No need to turn around. He recognized his visitor's voice. "Hullo, Avery," he said. "Come to keep me company?"
"Fancied having a chat with the Famous Harry Potter," said Avery. "Before you're maimed beyond recognition."
Harry sighed and looked at Avery. The death eater smirked at him, standing in the dim torchlight.
"Best if you tell me all you've been up to now," continued Avery. "Perhaps we can spare you the Longbottoms' fate."
"I haven't been up to anything," said Harry. "And I don't know anything."
Avery chuckled. "Right. Harry Potter knows nothing about the war." He sighed theatrically. "Have it your way, then. Won't be the first time I destroy a mudblood-lover who won't talk. Your girlfriend was particularly fun to play with. And her mudblood friend."
Harry felt numb, like someone had just doused him in ice water. He stood and walked shakily forward to stare straight into Avery's eyes. "What the hell did you just say?"
Avery's smile twisted into a grin, full of unsettlingly white teeth.
Once he'd recovered, Draco attempted to lose himself in potion-making once again. But his hands wouldn't stop shaking. Something felt wrong.
He extinguished the flame beneath the cauldron, and he set the unfinished essence of dittany aside.
He glanced at Mulciber. The death eater was distracted for the moment, in conversation with a pretty female death eater standing in the corridor.
Draco returned to his work table and braced himself against it. He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and attempted to empty his mind.
He tried to clearly picture his mother's face. He imagined her sharp cheekbones, her thin smile, and her soft blue eyes. He imagined reaching out to her with psychic energy through stone floors and walls. He willed her to feel his presence.
Once he had a clear picture of her, he imagined diving through her pupils and into her mind. Everything went black…
He opened his eyes. He once again saw the work table before him, the shelves along the walls holding vials and bottles.
He looked at Mulciber, who was eyeing him suspiciously. Defeated, Draco returned to his essence of dittany before his neglect could ruin it.
He had never heard of remote Legilimency actually working. He didn't know why he tried.
Tears threatened to spring to his eyes, but he swallowed them back. He chastised himself for his childish frustration.
"How I miss the Weasley girl," said Avery. "She made me laugh, with all her struggling. The mudblood put up quite a fight, too. I didn't mind; I like the lively ones."
Harry's heart pounded in his ears. "You saw Ginny and Hermione?" he asked, his voice breaking.
"Oh, I did much more than see them, Harry," answered Avery, smiling wider.
Harry sprang forward, not caring that the cell bars would propel him back. He wanted to claw Avery's smug face.
"What did you do to them, you sick bastard?" Harry shouted. "Where's Ginny? Where's Hermione?"
"They're gone, my boy." Avery looked suddenly serious. "Couldn't take it, I'm afraid."
"What couldn't they take?" Harry spat. "Answer me!"
Avery slowly grinned once more. The glee in his eyes was palpable.
"You didn't hear? They're dead."
Draco's heart sank. His whole life he'd been at war, fighting for the wrong side. When he'd tried to come to the light, he'd been punished. Perhaps he was simply fated to side with the devil.
He had to accept defeat and keep his head down. His mother's life depended on it.
But even as he thought this, the strangest sense of excitement gripped him. He felt more alert, more alive. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
He glanced sideways at Mulciber. The death eater leaned against the wall, nodding at two of his comrades as they passed by.
On impulse, Draco began stealthily pocketing any potion he could find. Small acid-green bulbs, emerald vials, and flasks of every color dropped into his robe pockets. Handfuls of raw ingredients joined them.
He spotted a pearly white bottle on the shelf. After a moment's hesitation, he pilfered that as well, his heart pounding.
Harry tried to plunge his hands through the cell bars. He wanted to choke the death eater scum grinning at him from the other side.
His fists crashed against the wards of the cell. He kept pounding. All he could hear were his own hammering pulse and the savage growls emitting from his throat. His body violently shook and twitched.
"What did you do to them?" he shouted. "What did you fucking do?"
Avery laughed merrily. "Well, I did many things, Harry," he said. "You'll have to be more specific. I have to say, I did think they'd be more difficult to break. But in the end, they begged for mercy."
Avery licked his lips. His eyes looked far away.
Within seconds, though, his attention had snapped back to Harry. His bearded mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Small trickles of deep scarlet dripped from the corners of his eyes.
The room lit up with a white flash. Harry's mind went blank.
Draco heard a long, low howl from below him.
Then an explosion rocked the floor like an earthquake.
Draco fell to his knees. "Harry," he whispered.