Imprisoned

Why wasn't he surprised? Severus Snape snorted as the auror led him closer and closer to the cell at the end of the hallway. Such was the sickening joke that they call life. Whoever governed the destinies of mankind obviously did not think it was enough that he had compromised all that he'd ever known to do the right thing for the umpteenth time in his life only to again be punished for it. No, it wasn't enough that he endured the nauseating servitude, the excruciating fear, and the weight of death on his conscience. It wasn't enough that he would be spending the rest of his life being tormented by soul-sucking dementors. No, it wasn't enough. The universe decided that what he really needed to sweeten the deal was his own attempted-murderer as a cell mate.

"Snape??" the dark-haired man slumped on the ground in the corner of the cell exclaimed, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Black." He almost laughed at the incredulous expression on Black's face when the auror quickly unlocked the cell door and allowed him to walk in. The space was so small that if both men laid down on the thin brown mat covering half the ground--which, he figured, would be where they would sleep--their feet and heads would both touch the walls. The mat didn't look big enough for two people to fit without touching, and the toilet in the corner hardly seemed serviceable. He firmly forbade himself to think about what would happen when either of them had to use the toilet. I just won't eat or drink. Maybe I'll starve before the dementors can drive me crazy.
---
Black didn't eat much either. In fact, he didn't do much of anything; neither of them did. The days were the worse. There was a light that came from somewhere beyond their sight, probably at the end of that long hallway. He didn't see one when he was led in, but he hadn't really been paying attention. Sometimes, as he stared out the cell bars at the white light he felt an odd pang of regret at not having looked. It was so much harder to imagine himself distinguishing that annoying light when he didn't even know its source. That white purity did not belong in a wretched place like this, and the light quietly and carelessly taunted him. At night that whiteness faded to a dark gray that was not more comforting, but at least offered him respite from the starkness of Black's features. In the dark, he could only make out the outline of the other man's body leaning against the corner he was pressed into on the first day. And that was if he tried. He didn't try often. The days were worse, because in the presence of light it was all that much harder not to see the silent tears sliding steadily down Sirius Black's cheeks.
---
"I didn't kill them." His eyes flicked to Black, who was staring dully at the mat that remained unused in the tiny space between them. They didn't sleep much, and when they did it was in their respective corners, sitting up. Black said no more. Severus wondered if he was hearing things, but then he saw Black's lips moving again, his voice raspy and soft--a whisper.

"He was my best friend. I didn't kill them."

"I don't care," Severus whispered back.

Black's head jerked up and the gray eyes were wild with rage. "I'm not like you!" he growled. "I'm not a murderer, I'm not a Death Eater, I'm not a Dark wizard..." His voice was rising steadily.

Severus closed his eyes, shutting out the biting words. He didn't want to have to think about whether they were true or not.

"DON'T BLOODY IGNORE ME, YOU BASTARD!"

Severus opened his eyes. "I told you I don't care, Black," he said blankly. He willed himself to believe that. "It doesn't matter what you did and didn't do. It doesn't matter what I did and didn't do." He closed his eyes again. "We'll both be dead soon enough," he whispered, "and the dead are all the same."