Chapter Thirty-Nine

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"Jaysus, but you're beautiful

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"Jaysus, but you're beautiful."

24 June 1995

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24 June 1995

Alastor counted handfalls as he dragged himself across the floor.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

He stopped, propped himself up on one hand and his good leg, and pushed down his drawers. Despite his need, it took him a few seconds before his bladder released. He tried not to piss too hard; he knew from experience that he was close to the wall, and he didn't want it to spatter back at him. When he was finished, he rolled over on his side to relieve his bowels.

He usually tried to hold his water and shite as long as he could, in hopes Crouch would visit not too long afterward and Vanish the mess. He might even cast a few cleansing spells on Alastor. A sensitive nose, had Bartemius Fecking Crouch Bloody Junior.

After hitching his drawers back into place, Alastor pulled himself back across the cell. His left hand hit the canteen, sending it clanging and echoing through the small space.

Bugger.

He hoped it hadn't gone all the way to Loo Corner. Alastor would dig through the mess for it if he had to, though. Merlin only knew when Crouch would come to bring him more water.

Panic made his gorge rise. It seemed to come upon him more and more, although Merlin knew the idea of death held no horrors for him at this point. But thirst ...

He'd been reduced to drinking his own piss once, and that wasn't a thing he ever cared to try again. When Crouch had returned—from a weekend off Dumbledore had forced on him, he'd said—Alastor had wept.

The panic threatened to overtake him.

Fuck it.

He began to sing quietly into the darkness to beat it down.

"If you'll be the lass of Aughrim
As I'll take you to be
Tell me that first token
That passed between you and me.

"Oh don't you remember
That night on yon lean hill
When we both met together
I am sorry now to tell ..."

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