Kept Intact

KEPT INTACT

The cell was dark and cold, as any windowless room with walls, floor and ceiling made of stone would be. Although it did not explain the fact why it was so damp inside. Dampness was mostly due to the cracks in the ceiling through which water oozed. It gathered into small pools in the uneven floor and finally streamed down the round hole in the corner that not only kept the prisoner from drowning in this water but also served to him as a toilet. When he had enough strength to reach it in time. The latter has become quite a rare occasion recently, and that resulted in rather unpleasant smell filling the cell.

Not that it was really important to the prisoner, and he certainly was not worried about his guards being bothered by this small problem either. He doubted they had noses to smell it, anyway.

The screeching sound produced by the opening door brought him out of his reverie. The guard entered bringing a bowl with something unrecognizable. He never bothered trying to identify the stuff. It was just food, something to be placed into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Better not to question what was inside the bowl. The same 'no questions' rule applied to the guard, simply a hooded black figure, a shadow. No eyes, no voice, nothing to notice or remember.

He preferred things to be this way, with no details. The best way to preserve the memories intact.

The door closed behind the shadow, and it appeared that he was alone again. Several minutes passed, and the prisoner slowly raised his head, but did not move from the corner where he had been sitting in during the guard's visit.

"There's no point in hiding, you know," he spoke up suddenly, his voice raspy from infrequent use. He silently marveled at the fact that he managed to form a whole sentence. It's been a long time since he spoke to anyone. He used his voice from time to time, of course... but the sound he produced could hardly be considered coherent speech, mostly screams when the pain from the tortures began to seem absolutely unbearable.

Without waiting for an answer the prisoner continued,

"If you are asking yourself how do I know about your presence, I can explain. See, the guards bring food only once a day. Or they forget to feed me at all. But they never bring food twice a day. The only reason to do so would be an order from someone higher in command. And why would someone order to feed me twice? Maybe this person wanted them to open my cell? Maybe this person had an urgent wish to see me? And I doubt this would be Voldemort. If he wanted to see me, he would just come down here in all his glory. No, I really cannot imagine Voldemort sneaking into his prisoner's cell. Must be someone who wants to remain unnoticed. I would bet on Pettigrew if he was alive, but I distinctly remember killing him. Right after he murdered Sirius..."

The prisoner abruptly stopped, and for a few moments the only sound in the silence that set in was his laboured breathing.

"I used to cry each time I remembered Sirius. Or Ron, or Hermione. Maybe there are finally no tears left? That's good because I am really tired of crying. It gives me a horrible headache, and I get enough pain here to deal with as it is.

"So, what was I saying? Oh yes, we established that you are neither Voldemort, nor Pettigrew. We are alone, there are no guards here you could be afraid of, and you are still hiding. Perhaps you are afraid of me? Afraid of my reaction to you?

"Whoever you are, you can reveal yourself. I won't get angry, I promise. Along with ability to cry, I lost my anger.

"I remember the last time when I got angry. It was when someone whom I trusted and considered to be my friend betrayed me. Could this be a Potter thing, what do you think? People we trust betraying us. Some kind of a family curse.

"Do you think that my father was upset when he learned about Peter's betrayal? Or did he expect it? I did. Of course, I did not know for sure that he would hand me over to Voldemort, but I was not surprised when it happened, either. Angry and bitter, of course, but it was no shock.

"They all thought I was someone special. Everyone believed it, even those who hated or envied me. And I, well, I could not disappoint them, could I? I could not let them leave me, I wanted to be loved and cared about like everybody else. So I pretended.

"He... now he was really special. From the very beginning he saw right through me, knew that I was an ordinary person put on a pedestal. I watched him from afar, admired him. Oh, how I regretted my rejection of his friendship, what wouldn't I give to have one more chance! But it was too late, he considered me his enemy already, and I had to play along.

"I remember how I received that second chance. During our fifth year at Hogwarts, I decided to learn swimming all by myself, too stubborn and proud to ask for someone's help, and ended up almost drowning myself in the lake. And he saved me. After all the humiliation I caused him, after all the things we've done to each other, he still wanted to rescue me. Unbelievable as it is, he gave me this chance, permitted me to become his friend.

"And the sad thing is that I blew it up. I wonder when did he realise that he made a mistake? When did he feel that I was just a waste of time? Did it really take him a year to understand what a disappointment I am?

"No, I don't think so. He is too smart for that. It would not take him so long. It was obvious for me that as soon as he knew me, he would leave. I am not a person one would want as a friend. I am nothing, in fact. I only managed to put people who trusted and followed me in mortal danger and kill them eventually.

"He made the right decision when he chose his family and his beliefs over me. He remained loyal, and it kept him alive. I am glad that he is alive and happy. He deserves that.

"I hope he does not hate me now. If he does, I don't want to know that. I already have enough things on my mind. The guards who love to play with me, for instance. At Hogwarts, we were told only about Cruciatus curse. I could never guess how many other ways there are to bring pain. Those little spells allowing to make you feel your intestine being on fire, your skin being pierced with thousands of needles, your eyes bursting... There is one advantage in these small torture sessions, though. When it is over, I don't have any nightmares. Unconsciousness has its merits.

"There is only one thing I am truly proud of. It is a secret I kept from him. The only secret I managed to keep. It is still there, intact in my head. There is no need to hide it now, it is not going to change anything. I loved him. I was in love with him for so long that I don't even remember when it began. I never wanted him to be my friend, oh no, it was way more than that. To constantly touch him, look at him, hear his voice, feel his presence... it doesn't sound platonic, does it? Hell, each time I saw him with a girl the only thing I wanted was to be in her place. Not that I would ever admit it to him or to anyone else. But he was the one and only for me. I wanted him so much that I could not even think of anybody else.

"Harry Potter will die a virgin because he wanted to keep himseld intact for the only person he ever loved. What a laugh. All that popularity, all these girls fawning over me, and I never even kissed anyone. But I am not sorry about it. I cannot imagine myself with someone else.

"I wonder how would he react back then if he found out? If I was not just pretending to be brave and heroic, if I had enough courage to tell him the truth? Would he be disgusted? Or would he feel obligated to stay with me? It is a good thing I never told him. If he was not able to leave me when it was needed... he could get killed as everyone else. That is a scary thought. Something I don't want to think about. Things happened as they should have.

"Well... you are still not talking? You don't want to tell me anything, Draco? No sarcastic comment, no witty remark? And yes, I know it is you. Who else could it be? Perhaps I was right and you are disgusted by my confession. I didn't expect anything else.

"What, you are not even going to explain why you came here? Let me guess, Voldemort finally decided to get rid of me. I am not sure how much time I spent here, months or years. You can tell him not to bother himself with an execution. If he gives me a little more time, I will save him the trouble. I never knew that it was possible to feel your own death... I am not sure how much I have left. A couple of weeks? It should not take more than that.

"Are you tired of me already? Alright, I will shut up now. I am sorry about my rant. Just give me a few more minutes to eat this, and I will call the guard to take the bowl, so that you will be able to leave when he opens the door."

The prisoner finally stood up, steadying himself against the wall. On shaky legs he approached the bowl in the centre of the cell and knelt. The small ball of light that hovered near the ceiling illuminated his hunched naked figure, bones protruding under pale skin, tousled black hair with gray streaks. It was hard to believe that he was 17 years old. On the first sight he could be given 30.

The prisoner finished his meal and, true to his promise, stood up and reached to the door with a hand that held the bowl. He knocked at the door three times with the bowl and moved several feet away.

A moment later the door opened, the bowl was taken, and the prisoner was left alone again.

******

Once in his cabinet, Draco Malfoy removed the Invisibility Cloak (sort of an unwilling parting gift from the Boy Who Lived) from his shoulders and sighed with visible relief. The smell in the cell was awful. A half an hour in such a place could make anyone claustrophobic. Maybe Harry would be immune to it, considering his childhood spent in a cupboard and all that. Harry... he chuckled when he remembered the boy's naive words. Voldemort ordering to execute him, indeed. If Riddle was alive, he would kill his favourite victim long before now. And Harry's assumption that Draco was afraid to show his face was ridiculous. Draco just wanted to avoid unnecessary insults and accusations. He never was a fan of heated arguments.

But unfortunately for Mr Riddle, the world was not big enough to contain both him and Malfoys. Or two Malfoys, for that matter. Draco was absolutely sure that he had far more trouble dealing with his father than Lucius had had getting rid Voldemort. "Loyal to his family". Ha! He would never hurt his mother, naturally, her being a brainless beautiful doll. But Lucius was an entirely different matter. Draco could bet that his father would be disappointed in his only son if the said son did not plot against him. Well, now Lucius would have a reason to be proud if he were alive to witness this. Draco was much better in intrigues and conspiracy than the old man.

Now back to the small question that had just arisen. What to do with Harry? Draco never seriously considered his execution. There would be no point in it, anyway. He could see that Harry was correct in assuming that he would not live much longer if left in present condition. So should Draco let him simply waste away after this nice little confession? Forget about it? But he was getting kind of bored here, all by himself, and Harry could become an interesting entertainment...

Draco made a decision. He snapped his fingers, and in the next second a cloaked figure appeared in front of him. The person immediately fell to one knee and bowed his head.

"Yes, my lord."

"Bring Potter from the basement, find a good mediwizard to take care of his wounds and illnesses, make sure he is clean and fed, and then put him in my rooms."

Unsuccessfully trying to hide his shock but not daring to ask, the servant raised himself from the marble floor, awkwardly turned and retreated through the door. Draco grinned seeing that his order was stunning enough to make his servant forget how to apparate.

Time to have a glass of wine, relax and prepare oneself for a romantic evening. After all, he had had a busy week and did not expect it to conclude so nicely: with Harry Potter in his bedroom, alive and relatively intact.

The End