When We Fell: A Draco Malfoy Romance

Chapter 11- Foulest Creatures

The days drag on as the nights get even colder, the cell bars freezing to ice. Draco and I fill our days huddling in the corner, trying to get an amount of warmth from our bodies. The food is scarce and always contains a mystery soup and stale bread.

It has only been five days in Azkaban, but since there is nothing to do but worry about the cold, it seems like it has been weeks of this torment. At night, I dream about my warm, comfy bed back at Hogwarts and plates filled with the Great Hall feasts.

Draco and I try to keep our hopes alive by dreaming about London and freedom, a penthouse flat, and drinks at The Three Broomsticks. We laugh about the Hogsmeade trip, where he asked me to be his girlfriend; it seems like an entire lifetime ago that we were that carefree.

The prisoners' moans never cease and rise when the food cart appears twice a day: lunch and dinner. I have gotten a peek of the prisoner next to Draco, and it scared me straight about how much trouble we truly are in.

His skin is pale white, drooping off of his body, almost like it was liquid. Bones poke out at every angle, and his eyes are wild, no emotion left but fear.

This morning begins like every other, walking over to my bucket to relieve myself. There are no toiletries or showers in Azkaban, so I have officially reached "disgusting" territory. My uniform reeks, and my hair is an oily mess.

I make my way over to the door to see if Draco is awake and see him playing his finger game. It's something he made up a few days ago to pass the time. Basically, he tries to hit in between each bar as fast as he can...riviting, I know. But, hey, it's the best we got. 

"Good morning," my voice is hoarse from the chill and lack of water.

"Morning," he tries his best to smile at me, but his face is almost frozen still.

I begin my daily walk to keep my energy and warmth up, following the walls in a circle over and over again. My muscles have begun to feel weak due to the lack of exercise, so I am doing my best to stretch my legs a few times a day. 

"When do you think our trial will be?" I ask for maybe the 10th time since arriving here.

"Hopefully soon, Ollie. And you remember what we will say?"

"I was forced, as a child, to do the Lord's bidding. If I didn't, I was going to be killed. I had no choice," I recite. Draco and I have been going over our argument for the trial almost every day, trying to figure out how to convince them that we are innocent.

The rest of the day creeped along; I end up trying out Draco's game to get my mind off of how bored  I am. I never thought about how awfully boring sitting in Azkaban would be; no wonder people go crazy here.

After dinner, we are sitting and talking about an old neighbor I used to bother as a child when something out of the ordinary happens. I almost think it's just a strong gust of wind, but the lights start flickering as well. More frightening, the prisoner's moans get louder than I've ever heard.

"What is going on!" I have to yell over the moans for Draco to hear.

He looks over, worried, "I'm not sure, but it can't be good."

Dark objects form, almost like the shadows are seeping off of the dimly lit walls. It begins to feel as though all the happiness in me is sucked out, leaving only darkness, a deep dread forming in my gut. My cell begins to freeze over, a light frost covering the stones.

Once they take full shape, a deteriorating robe covering bones, I know what I'm looking at: Dementors. I knew they patrolled the outside of the prison, but I had no idea that they could find their way inside.

There are only three of them that I can see. One of them begins "feasting" on an old prisoner; his moans cut off as he lives his darkest thoughts. The thing that makes dementors so feared is that they are fear themselves, making you relive your life's worst moments until you are nothing but an empty, soulless shell.

"Ollie! Get to the back of your cell now, to the darkest corner!" Draco calls out frantically as the dementors get closer.

But all I can do is stare at the fragile prisoner being tortured, stuck in a silent scream. My legs feel like lead, and my hands begin to shake.

"Ollie!" I hear Draco's voice, but barely. His scream cuts like glass, agony and fear clear in his voice.

A shadow falls over me, cutting off the small amount of light from the torches. I drag my gaze off of the prisoner and look up to see a dementor looming over me.

"No! No, please take me! Please!" Draco begs desperately.

He bangs loudly on his cell bars and screams, trying his best to get the dementor's attention. "Don't fucking touch her! Turn around goddammit!" Draco's voice breaks, and a sob takes its place.

I'm frozen solid, looking at the dark face peering down at me. As the seconds go by, I feel all the hope of getting out of here fade away. The dementor slips past the cell bars to get closer to me.

Finally, I am able to get my legs to work and back up a step. My heart is racing, and Draco's pleading fades into the background.

The dementor leans his head down, so it's eye to eye and looks as if he is about to kiss me. I've heard my parents talking about it once...the Dementors Kiss. The worst torture known to wizards is having a dementor lock its jaw around your mouth, slowly feasting on your soul.

The last thing I remember thinking was that I hope Draco isn't next. That I could be strong for him and come back from this, but everyone knows that dementors leave you soulless.