Draco By Trial

And I find it kind of funny,

I find it kind of sad,

The dreams in which I'm dying,

Are the best I've ever had.

Tears for Fears - Mad World

*

Harry's journey into consciousness was troublesome; there was a blur in his mind as memories began to fight with each other. Haunting images that he couldn't seem to stop floated around, mixing, blurring, confusing. He saw Ron and Hermione, standing side by side in the Quidditch stands cheering for him as he lifted the House Cup, he saw the enraged face of Uncle Vernon and Dudley smirking behind his back, Cho's face, her cheeks smudged with tears, was closing in on him, he was alone at the lake holding a single petal from a poppy. He was flying, and he was with Draco. And then Draco was there right in front of him with a wand in his hand and a horrible, blank expression on his face. He looked at his hands and there was a knife, and blood; black, drying blood that he knew wasn't his own. He looked back up and Draco was still there, his wand still pointed directly at his heart. Draco opened his mouth, and screamed.

Harry felt a warmth on his cheek and tried to move towards it but he couldn't quite work out how. He heard a soft voice in his ear but he didn't recognise the words. Gentle and smooth they trickled their way over his soul and if they were meaningless he didn't care because he recognised that voice. He felt lips touch his own, and knew that he was home and it was all there, waiting for him to rediscover it and all he had to do was open his eyes.

He shifted his lips, opened his eyes, looked straight at Draco, and smiled.

"Draco," he said softly. But his voice was thick and his tongue felt strange in his mouth as though he hadn't used it before, and he knew that something was wrong because Draco shouldn't be looking at him like that; so afraid and relieved and tormented.

"Harry, you're awake," he said blankly, and Harry frowned; there was something at the back of his mind, nagging at him; something important that he really should remember because it would probably explain why Draco was looking at him like that. Draco leant forwards after a moment, placing Harry's glasses gently onto his face. Harry raised his hand to Draco's face which stayed near to his own, completely still. He remembered kissing Draco in a darkened classroom with rain coming in through a broken window and remembered the rejection. Like a dream, he remembered going to see Draco in his room weeks later, and felt a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. His fingers traced softly along Draco's jaw, across his lips, over the bridge of his nose and down his cheek, where he discovered the scars. Two parallel lines that ran from his left cheekbone to his chin.

A memory flashed through his mind and he jerked his hand away, frowning again.

"Harry?" Draco spoke again, but Harry wasn't listening. He saw blood and a knife and a bottle of alcohol; he remembered pain and pleasure and fear and shame and blood, never so much blood. He saw a flash of green light and his hand rose automatically to his scar, but it was still there. There was a feeling of bliss; complete, overwhelming and eternal, and then there was agony; earth-shattering pain that stabbed him deeper than anything should because it reeked of betrayal and loss of innocence and utter, unforgiving revenge. He remembered his hands covered in blood; Pansy's and Draco's, and he saw his hands clean and pure being held in Draco's, running through Draco's hair, cutting at Draco's face.

He turned wide, terrified eyes towards Draco's face, who took one look at him and gathered him up into his arms. A sob wracked through Harry's frame as he felt the bottom fall out of his world. He tightened his grip around Draco and held on for dear life, as though he was afraid of falling; or afraid that Draco would let go. Another sob escaped him and he didn't know why he was crying because he should be happy, and then another wave of memories and he remembered; he remembered so vividly it almost blinded him and he cried out in pain. Draco shook him urgently.

"Harry, Harry open your eyes. Please." And his voice was desperate and Harry would have done anything to do what it told him, but he couldn't because he was blind, and he was a cruel, miserable creature and things were never supposed to be this way. "Harry!" Draco shook him again and Harry let his head loll backwards, his face turned to the ceiling, and opened his eyes. He gulped in a huge breath and felt the panic begin to recede. He saw a white ceiling that he didn't recognise, and there were no cracks in it. He focussed his whole being on staring at that unfamiliar ceiling, feeling that if he could just focus everything would be alright.

Harry lifted his head slowly after a long moment, and looked Draco in the eye. He raised his hand to the scars on Draco's face once more and stroked them gently, remembering the look Draco had given him and the way the knife had felt in his hand as it connected with Draco's face, and other feelings as well: hot, wet, wrong liquid seeping slowly over his hands and a strange satisfaction that was misplaced and sick.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, letting his hand drop into his lap. "I was only trying to stop you. I didn't mean to hurt you like that." It was interesting and heart-breaking all at once to watch the effect those words had on Draco. Harry watched as Draco's face stiffened, and he felt the stiffening in the arms which still surrounded him. He saw a million and one emotions flitter across Draco's face; relief, pain, anger, confusion, hatred, disgust, and then it settled on despair; complete, all-consuming despair. A tear ran from Draco's eye and Harry realised that he'd never seen him cry before. "Don't," he said softly, wiping away the tear. "Don't cry." Draco straightened his shoulders and tightened his grip around Harry's waist; composure completely regained before it had been completely lost.

"I'm not crying. Malfoy's don't cry," he said tightly. A small, sad smile found Harry's lips and he gazed affectionately at Draco.

"Draco, where am I?" he asked tentatively, looking around for the first time. Draco jerked and looked quickly over his shoulder at the door, swearing under his breath.

"I'd forgotten," he muttered. "You're in St. Mungo's Harry. You've been here for over two months."

"Two months?" Harry said faintly, pulling out of Draco's embrace and gingerly lying back down in the bed. "It's been more than two months since...?" He left the question hanging and couldn't quite bear to look at Draco.

"Yes," Draco whispered, a slight waver in his voice. Harry swallowed uncomfortably, then turned his face back.

"Pansy?" he asked quietly, not sure whether he was worried about himself breaking or Draco. Draco grimaced before answering.

"Pansy...she's dead Harry." Harry felt his breath quicken once more. His hands balled into fists, scrunching up the sheets in his palms. He held on tightly as though afraid of falling from the bed, and concentrated on keeping breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out; it was so simple and at that moment, so very, very difficult. He felt his nails digging into his palms through the material in his hands and relished the pain there; it was something to concentrate on, something to believe in.

"I remember," he whispered. He noticed Draco looking over his shoulder towards the door again, and a suspicion began to rise in his mind. "Are they waiting for me?" he asked quietly. Draco's head snapped back to look at him.

"What?"

"Have they been waiting all this time? Hoping that I'll wake up so they can drag me away and lock me up? Are they going to take me to Azkaban?"

"No Harry, but they're coming for me; any minute now. They only gave me ten minutes and that was because both Snape and Dumbledore begged."

"You? But you were under Imperius! I'll tell them!" Harry felt true panic flood through him and he struggled to sit up again. They couldn't take Draco away, not when they'd only just realised; he needed Draco more than he needed oxygen because he could hold his breath but if he couldn't hold Draco there'd be nothing. Draco raised a gentle, placating hand to Harry's chest and he pushed him gently back down onto the pillows.

"Blaise is dead too Harry," he said, in the same quiet, plain voice. Harry froze; his mind shut down, his voice dried up in the back of his throat and he felt something inside of him shrivel and die.

"What? Blaise? You..." He couldn't believe it, not Draco. Draco wasn't a murderer.

"It was an accident. I tried to disarm him, but I was too angry." And there was an irony there, Harry thought dully. They'd both been so careless; so accident prone, when neither were meant to be killers because he was supposed to be the righteous hero and Draco was supposed to be there on the sidelines, shouting himself hoarse as he cheered Harry on but was never himself touched by anything because Harry was there to protect him. He thought vaguely about all those times when Draco had been protesting about not wanting to be pitied or protected or looked after; all those times he had gone on and on about fighting his own battles, and Harry had secretly dismissed it all because he just thought that Draco was being over-sensitive and that they both knew that in the end; in the end, Harry would save Draco from his evil father and his evil friends and his evil ways. And God the irony in the fact that he hadn't been able to save either of them and that he was just as evil as anyone else now.

"Why don't they want me?"

"Why would they?"

"Because I-"

"I killed Pansy and Blaise Harry; they don't want you because you didn't do anything."

"But-"

"I killed Pansy, Harry." But that didn't make sense; Draco didn't make sense and he didn't want to hear what Harry was saying. He frowned and fought to remember because his memory wouldn't play that much of a trick on him; because he knew that Draco hadn't had the knife, and he couldn't possibly... He tried again.

"No, you-" But Draco wasn't listening, he was leaning in closer and stroking Harry's face feverishly, as though it was the last thing he was ever going to do and he had to make it matter.

"None of this matters anymore Harry." And Harry stared at him with a growing sense of horror, because he knew what was coming and it was too awful to even imagine. "I fixed everything. They won't come for you."

"What did you do Draco?" he asked shakily, frozen to the spot by the almost fanatical look in Draco's eyes.

"Nothing. I told the truth." Draco sat back and looked nervously over his shoulder.

"Then why-" Draco leant back down and pressed his lips to Harry's to silence him. He ran his hand down Harry's cheek and Harry couldn't help but moan into Draco's mouth because, after everything, this was still the most important; the most real thing that he knew. More important than what had happened to Pansy and Blaise, and more real than any of the people he'd known who had died because of him.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Draco whispered, pulling his lips away and breathing hot air across Harry's face. "Nobody expected anything else from me. They found me there like that, with you, and Pansy, and Blaise, and what else were they going to think? They were never going to believe anything else so I just told them what they wanted to hear. And now you're going to be fine Harry because I fixed it all and everything's going to be fine because you can go on and fight Voldemort and do everything you're supposed to do. Remember? You remember everything you've got to do? You've got to save us all Harry and you're our only chance; my only chance, and you can't do it sitting in a dingy cell in Azkaban!" Harry sat up, pushing Draco away and staring at him, horrified at what he'd done and knowing that, at the same time, it was the most anyone ever had and ever would do for him.

"But you didn't kill her!" he cried. "You didn't kill her Draco, I did."

*

Harry stood, momentarily frozen to the spot as he watched Draco fall to the ground under the force of Blaise's blow. He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. On impulse, he made to move towards Draco when his foot kicked something. He looked down and saw the knife spinning gently; Draco had dropped it when Blaise had hit him, and it had fallen at Harry's feet. He picked it up without thinking, inspecting it for any damage. He hadn't really wanted to give it back; he'd stared at it every night for the past month, running his fingers over it like he'd run them over Draco's skin, had slept with it under his pillow; a sentimentality he would never have admitted to.

A movement out of the corner of his eye distracted him from the knife; Pansy had raised her wand and was pointing it directly at Draco where he was lying, panting on the ground. His fists clenched in anger at his sides. 'Such a Slytherin thing to do,' he thought. 'Attack a defenceless man when he's wounded.'

Without a second thought he lunged for her, and they both fell heavily to the floor. He knocked her wand out of her hand and it clattered away under Draco's bed. She yelled in his face and tried to bite his hand, but he jerked away quickly. Her knee rose and connected with his thigh and he gasped in pain. He made a dive to go after her wand, but he felt her grab him around the waist and neck, pulling him back. He was struggling, trying to move; trying to get her to let go him. He turned around, his hand in a fist, and wanted nothing more than to hit her. He felt Draco behind him, pulling on his shoulders, telling him to stop, but he was swinging his fist and it connected with her stomach and the satisfaction he felt was indescribable, and then she stopped struggling.

Harry glanced down at his hand, clenched into a fist he'd only meant to hit her with and wrapped around the handle of the knife which was now embedded in Pansy's stomach. He'd forgotten that he'd picked it up; had gotten so used to the weight of it in his hand that he'd barely noticed it was there. But he saw it now; couldn't take his eyes off of it now because it was in Pansy's stomach and there was blood quickly seeping around the edges and he'd put it there. He felt Draco's hands drop from his shoulders but he couldn't look away. He jerked his hand from the handle and there was blood on his palm.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." The words began to tumble from his lips and he wasn't thinking anymore. His legs gave out from beneath him and he fell to the floor with a jolt. He watched Pansy stare at the knife then at Draco, and then watched with a dull horror as she pulled it out of herself.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."

*

Draco stared into Harry's face, charting his emotions by the expressions that flitted across it. He felt the pressure of time weighing his shoulders down and wished for the ability to stop it, or at least slow it down so that he could say everything he had to; everything he'd wished he could say but had never imagined the chance to get to say it.

"Listen to me Harry," he said urgently. "There isn't much time. Forget about Pansy."

"Where are they taking you?" Draco sighed patiently and wished that this could be easier because he didn't want Harry to panic again. The panic attack hadn't lasted long, but it had been long enough. Harry had gripped at him so hard it was painful, but nothing had hurt him more than the horrific, heart-wrenching sobs that had come out of his mouth and soul as he'd remembered everything that had happened. Draco had had over two months to deal with this, to Harry it must only seem like a few hours. And Draco knew exactly how he felt; the overwhelming need to just scream at the world for being so unfair and so ungrateful.

"To Azkaban," he said softly, knowing that it was where he belonged because Harry may have been holding the knife, but it was Draco's fault that he'd even had the opportunity to wield it. Harry began frantically trying to struggle out of his bed again.

"I'm not going to let you do this Draco," he said calmly, but looking as though his world was falling down around his ears. 'Oh God I'm so sorry.'

"You don't have a choice Harry. I was on trial, they gave me Veritaserum. As far as they're concerned what I told them was the truth. They won't believe you." Harry looked at him with eyes full of pleading and hot tears, but he knew that he had to stay strong; that this was for Harry's own good.

"How can you be so cold about this?" Harry almost wailed it and Draco felt his heart shrivel up a bit more.

"Because I have to be."

"Draco...I can't..." he begged.

"Yes, you can," he said softly, stroking Harry's cheek and leaning in to kiss him again. He feathered light kisses all over Harry's face, lingering on his scar and the corner of his mouth. He drew away quickly, needing the distance but not wanting to tear himself away, and revelled briefly in the look of complete bliss on Harry's face. He opened his eyes slowly, dreamily, and fixed him with such an intense look that Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"How did you lie?" Harry asked softly, and it wasn't what Draco had been expecting. He looked towards the door again, expecting Snape to stride through it at any moment.

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes."

*

Draco felt hands pulling at him; pulling him away from Harry. He struggled but they were too strong, too insistent. He felt a cold silence overwhelm him as he watched them take him away. He was carried out of the room and now Snape was looking at him; talking with an almost desperate look on his face, but Draco couldn't hear anything.

"Will he be alright?" he asked, but his voice sounded too thick and echoed too much. He shook his head to rid himself of the sensation, but it didn't work. He was alone with Snape now, who was pacing and gesturing wildly, and he wished that they hadn't taken Harry away because now he was thinking again.

He thought about what had happened, and couldn't get the image of Harry's unconscious face out of his mind. He'd thought he was dead; had been so sure that he'd killed the only person who had ever loved him, but he hadn't died; he'd survived the curse again. Draco saw his own wand pointed at Harry's chest, and the look of utter betrayal in his face, and the feeling of complete calm and satisfaction, and felt a wave of revulsion and guilt seep slowly over himself. He saw the flash of green once more and knew that he should have tried harder to fight it, and began to hate himself even more. He heard the sound of Blaise's head cracking against the wall over and over, and it was the only thing which relieved the pain because he'd deserved it.

As Draco sat on the floor, watching Snape pace back and forth erratically, he knew one thing: this was all his own fault. He watched Snape stop talking and stare at him, before shrugging his shoulders irritably and walking towards the door to talk to whoever was out there. Draco gripped his hand around his wand, which no-one had taken off of him yet, and called forth dusty memories of libraries and warmth and pipe smoke. He felt the leather beneath his fingers and the crackle of each yellowed page as he read delicately over every word; taking it all in. He took a breath, and began to whisper.

"Sensi fides commendo. Sensi fides commendo." Repeating this over and over, a small, almost imperceptible glow emitted from his wand and surrounded him. He would protect, he would trust and he would believe. Harry had given him a gift; had set him free, and he would repay it over and over again and would never be satisfied that he had done enough.

*

"It's a simple spell. I got the idea from one of my grandfather's books I read years ago. It's meant to protect the one you trust and love most in the world. Because I was protecting you; because I love you, I was able to change what I believed really happened. I already believed that I was the guilty one, not you, so everything else was simple." He registered eyes staring at him and he looked into Harry's face. Tears were falling slowly, running down his cheeks and falling from his chin.

"Draco I-"

"Shh," Draco whispered, pressing his finger to Harry's lips. "It's OK." Harry shook his head but didn't say any more. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and began to rock back and forth. "It's OK, it's OK," he whispered over and over, not knowing who he was trying to comfort. Harry began to struggle again and Draco loosened his grip on him. Harry turned his face to his, their noses brushing together. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He took a deep, shaking breath, but still couldn't manage anything. Draco smiled at him softly. "I know." They stared into each others eyes, and Draco found more truth and love and comfort there than he had ever imagined there to be in the whole world.

"How long?" Harry whispered.

"Ten years."

"I can't let you do this Draco."

"You don't have a choice."

The door to the room opened, and Draco sighed in resignation. He felt Harry stiffen in his arms, and felt hands come up to grip his arms protectively. He heard footsteps walking briskly towards them, stopping at a discreet distance.

"Draco, it's time to...Hello Mr Potter." Harry didn't say anything so Draco gently prised himself out of his embrace and turned to look at Snape.

"He's awake," he said numbly. Snape continued to stare at Harry for a moment, before focussing on Draco.

"Yes, I can see that Draco. I'll get the doctor immediately." He appeared to pause, looking at Draco for a moment longer then turning to Harry. "You're a very lucky young man Mr Potter." He turned on his heel and briskly left. Harry turned his face back to Draco's.

"Draco, please-" he began desperately, reaching out for him again, but Draco drew further away, knowing that if he gave in now he would never be able to let go.

"I've got to go Harry," he said quietly.

"I'll come and visit you," Harry said quickly, "I'll get you out-"

"No!" Draco said harshly. "Don't. I don't want you to." He stood up and Harry followed him, standing also, a horrible, confused expression on his face.

"But-" Draco grabbed onto his forearms and pushed him back into a sitting position on the bed. He looked down fondly at him, putting his hand on the side of his face.

"I did this for you Harry. I did this so you wouldn't waste your life. We would never have worked, find yourself someone else; someone safer."

"There isn't anyone else," Harry whispered, tears flowing freely now. 'I know,' Draco thought. Snape re-entered the room, with two doctors behind him. They bustled up to Harry, pushing Draco gently aside so that they could get a good look at their miracle patient. Draco felt a gentle hand on his wrist.

"Draco," came Snape's soft voice in his ear.

"I know," he whispered and turned to leave.

"No!" Harry gave a strangled cry and struggled to push the doctors away.

"Mr Potter please! You'll only weaken yourself more! You've been through a terrible ordeal," one of the doctors pleaded.

"Get off me!" Harry shouted, pushing them roughly aside and turning Draco roughly back around. He wrapped his arms around him and held on tight.

"Harry," Draco whispered, though his heart was breaking. He ran his hands over Harry's back and felt such pain rising up in him. "Harry, you have to let me go."

*

And he was dying; truly dying inside when Draco touched him just like that and looked at him with those eyes which told him to be strong. He reached out for Draco and found that he was already there. His hand curled around the back of his neck and he pulled him desperately close. He didn't care that Snape was there and doctors were there and guards from Azkaban were waiting outside to take away the only person he'd ever loved. All he cared about; all he needed, was Draco. But all too soon he had to pull away and lose the warmth and the safety and the love because Draco turned away and didn't look back. Harry watched numbly as Snape placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and ushered him out of the door. The room began to spin and Harry couldn't breathe again. He gasped but there didn't seem to be enough air. His hands flailed weakly and he felt someone grab onto him but he was too far away now because he'd left the room with Draco and he wasn't coming back. He vaguely heard someone calling his name, but there was a blackness reaching out towards him and he wouldn't refuse it because it was all that he had.

*

Harry woke a few hours later, feeling tired and weak. He opened his eyes tentatively only to shut them quickly again with a groan because the light flooding the room made his head ache. He turned his head to the side, muttering unintelligibly, and felt someone gently push his glasses onto his face. He opened his eyes again and the smiling faces of Ron and Hermione came into focus, and he found that he couldn't help the smile that touched his lips for a moment. He thought fondly about the strength of their friendship which he had thought, after such a long time and all the changes they had gone through, had been fading.

Clearly unable to control herself any longer, Hermione threw herself joyfully at him.

"Oh Harry!" she cried. "We thought you were never going to wake up again!" Harry patted her awkwardly on the arm until Ron gently pulled her away and he could see the tears in her eyes. "We've been so worried!"

"How're you feeling?" Ron asked quietly, looking genuinely relieved to see his friend awake.

"Like I've been run over by a bus repeatedly," Harry mumbled, and suddenly began to feel nauseous and shaky as memories of the last time he woke up hit him.

"The doctors are all astonished," Hermione said excitedly. "They were saying all along that if it took more than two weeks you weren't going to wake up and that your body needed time to recuperate but that more than two weeks was too long. And they kept going on about surges of magic and overloads and..." Harry let her voice flow over him, as his thoughts returned to Draco and that last look he had given him before leaving; so full of despair but strength and love. His breathing hitched and he closed his eyes, fighting not to drown in the wave of hopelessness which washed over him. He couldn't let him do it; nobody was worth destroying your life for.

"I have to see Dumbledore," he said, interrupting Hermione's flow. He reopened his eyes to look at his friends, and saw them exchanging a worried glance.

"Why?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"I need to talk to him about Draco," he said decisively. Ron's face darkened and his cheeks flushed red with anger.

"What about him? You wouldn't believe some of the things he's been saying about you," he said with a disgusted look. Harry watched Hermione place her hand gently on his arm and squeeze. "If you ask me Azkaban's where he belongs." Harry sat bolt upright, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed.

"Shut up Ron," he snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about." Ron bristled.

"Look I know you were friends and everything, I didn't like it but it's not like I tried to stop you! But the things he said! I mean, he tried to make out that you...that you..." His voice trailed off and the disgusted look appeared on his face again.

"What?" Harry snapped.

"He said that you kissed him; that you were in love with him," Hermione said, looking straight at Harry. Harry closed his eyes and fell back onto the bed.

"Everybody knows?" he whispered.

"What?!" Ron exploded.

"They gave him a truth serum Harry, he couldn't lie. I don't think he wanted to anyway."

"What?" Ron shouted again.

"Shut up Ron, you're not helping," Hermione snapped, before turning back to Harry. "Harry?" she asked softly. Harry looked up at her numbly.

"He loves me back you know," he said, feeling tears prickle behind his eyelids. He heard Draco's voice begging him over and over: 'Just let me do this for you Harry, just let me do this.'

"I know," she answered softly, and pulled him into her arms. "I know." Harry pulled away after a moment and looked into their faces. Hermione with a concerned look in her eyes and Ron, barely able to look at him, and he knew that he couldn't tell them. He couldn't bear to have them push him away and point their fingers at him as they screamed 'murderer!' in his face, but that was what Draco had condemned himself to. He turned his face away, consumed by guilt and not being able to stand being near them anymore because he was so dirty and they were so clean and pure and trusting in him. He lay back down with his back turned to them and curled into a ball.

"I need to sleep," he mumbled. He felt Hermione's hand gently touch his head, stroking his hair for a moment before she pulled away.

"OK, we'll be back later," she whispered. "I think Professor Dumbledore will want to see you anyway." He listened to their footsteps fade away and heard the click of the door. He curled up smaller and began to rock back and forth, dry sobs building up within him. He couldn't stand to leave Draco alone there, but he felt so helpless. What Draco had said was true: no-one would believe him, especially not now that they knew that he was in love with Draco. There would be no trial for him, no truth serum and no chance to tell his side because Draco had seen to it that no-one would want to know. Everything had already been done, and there was nothing he could do about it.

There had been many times when Harry had doubted what Draco really felt for him. He had never quite managed to decipher what was going on behind his eyes, until that time on the Quidditch pitch when Draco had screamed at him that he'd kissed him. Harry had looked into his eyes and had seen the pain and confusion and betrayal there, and had known from that moment on that everything that he did affected Draco just as much as Draco's actions affected him. It had been from that moment that he knew that he loved Draco Malfoy, and that he always would. But now that had all been taken away from him; ruthlessly wrested from his hands by two selfish and conceited Slytherins who had ended up dead.

And there was nothing he could do to stop what had happened because people had died and Draco was on his way to Azkaban, and not even Dumbledore would believe him now.

*

Draco jerked as the cell-door slammed behind him, leaving him in almost total darkness. There was a small window in the wall opposite with no glass but thick iron bars. Soft moonlight filtered through, creating more shadows than light. He walked slowly over to it, hoping for a comforting view but saw only jagged rocks, stretching into the sea. A harsh wind whistled through the bars, whipping at his face and making him gasp, but he stayed there, gazing silently into the sea until his eyes began to water. Shivering violently in the thin prison robes he had been given, he finally moved away from the window and stumbled clumsily in the dark towards the bed in the corner. The springs creaked ominously as he sat, but he ignored them. He patted his pockets for cigarettes, before remembering that they'd been taken off of him. Sighing, he let his shoulders slump and put his head in his hands.

He'd tried not to think about this; about the cold and the loneliness and the utter despair. Even when Snape had left him at the prison gates with a gentle hand on the shoulder and a solemn nod, he hadn't let himself think. Because he knew if he did; if he thought about tomorrow and the next day and the next, he would begin to panic and wouldn't be able to stop. He would have screamed after Snape that he was afraid, that he couldn't stand it and that he didn't belong there.

Now there was only silence, and the sound of his own thoughts. And he could feel them all, around him and above him and below him: hundreds of witches and wizards drowning in their own sorrow and self-pity and regret; hundreds of people who had committed much worse crimes than he had for all he had done was fall in love with the wrong person.

His breathing quickened and his hands tightened in his hair. He scrunched his eyes shut and tried to imagine that he was somewhere else; somewhere with Harry, but he was too cold and all he could hear was the lonely whistling of the wind.

He was to be here for the next ten years, locked away in this godforsaken hole where all he could do was wait to be driven insane by the silence, or wait for his father to come and get him. And he would be dragged unceremoniously back to the Death Eaters and Voldemort, and then he would be even further from Harry than he was now. He lay down on the bed, curling into a ball and wrapping himself in the thin blankets in an attempt to stop shivering. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and tried to imagine that they were Harry's, and that they were alone together somewhere and happy. He allowed a single tear to run down his cheek as he lay awake and waited for tomorrow.

Fin