Peach Colored Walls

Breath in deep, slowly let the air escape through slightly parted lips, breath in again. The twitch just below his left eye was the only indication that he had felt the needle penetrate the skin in the crook of his elbow. If he concentrated hard enough perhaps he would be able to feel his blood leave him.

Curious creatures, muggles; always wanting to have everything explained to them in logical terms. Fools, every one of them. Magic could not be explained, they would not solve the puzzle by peering closely at their blood cells, prodding them with anything that had a point or sending waves of electricity through their bodies. Severus didn’t think they sought the answer with their last test; they were just sick fucks who liked to hear him scream.

He had given up on maintaining any dignity only three weeks into his stay. He still felt overly exposed in the knee length gown they provided him with, he was bare beneath it. This had the added benefit of making him feel vulnerable as well as giving them less laundry to do. Pale yellow really was not his color either. It made his skin appear even more sallow and he had not needed any assistance with that.

Perhaps the thing that made him most ill at ease, that caused him to scrunch in on himself, hunch his shoulders though his pride was screaming at him to hold his head high, was the absence of his hair. On arrival a disturbingly fat woman with five whiskers growing out of her double chin had grabbed a junk of his greasy hair and chopped at it with long stainless steel shears. He was so shocked he allowed her to cut every strand so short it refused to lay flat; he allowed this assault without a single sound of protest.

The features of his face were sharpened by the lack of his greasy curtain of hair. A giant beak of a nose, decorated with a large bump thanks to an unfortunate Quidditch accident, sat square in the middle. It had always been noticeable but without his hair it seemed so much more grotesque and Severus found himself running a finger down the length of it during the empty hours he spent sitting in his room.

The hours dragged by so slowly that he was almost thankful when they came for him. To think that he would be so willing to cooperate with their tests just to escape the stillness and silence, just to hear the sound of another’s voice. Pathetic.

The only way he found himself able to keep track of time was with shower day. When he would return to his room he would place a small line on the wall beside his narrow bed. He would make a line each time he awoke in the morning, when there were ten lines it would be shower day again. The marks were always gone when he returned. He had taken seven showers with Potter; he hadn’t counted the ones before him.


Severus was concerned for the young man’s welfare. He knew what forms of torture he was subjected to and feared that Potter was suffering the same. Were they aware of how powerful Potter was they probably wouldn’t have hesitated to split him open and poke and prod his organs just out of curiosity.

Severus propped his back up against the wall and pulled his legs in close to his chest. The mattress was lumpy and he could feel springs poking him. He glanced at the small gauze that had been taped to his arm where the needle had been.

They wanted to inject his blood into a rat and see if it affected it at all. Honestly how stupid were these muggles? He watched as a drop of blood soaked through the white gauze and his mouth went dry at the color. Severus hated the color red and feared green. They made him remember.

Red and gold, Gryffindor colors. Such a gaudy combination not like his sophisticated green and silver. He felt the familiar sinking feeling in his gut as he started to lose himself in the memories of Hogwarts before Dumbledore died, before he was a fugitive, before he had been rounded up like a wild animal and encaged.

Severus yanked the tape and gauze from his arm and tossed it to the floor. The red stared up at him, standing out against all the white. Weasleys were nothing but red; red hair, red cheeks when they were angry, embarrassed or excited. Ronald Weasley, he opened his mouth to speak the words but choked on them. Red and green, Christmas colors, the colors that represented the death of a Weasley.

Ginevra Weasley was still around; he had spotted her just days ago, swollen with child, her scalp covered in red fuzz. The pale alabaster skin marred with freckles and bruises. He did not allow his mind to think of how she had become impregnated.

He himself had not yet suffered a sexual assault unless he counted Potter violating his thigh during their communal showers. Potter had been an interesting surprise. Their first shower had been awkward, both discretely getting their fill of exposed flesh, taking in the scars and bruises, the sight of ribs and knobby knees. They had barely spoken a word, neither knowing what to say, not wanting to say too much.

Ever since the death of the Potters he had been given the task of being protector for the boy. It had been beaten into him so much that the feeling still lingered there after all that had happened. He needed to save him, to comfort him, to give him strength to get through whatever the future held for them.

Severus tried his best to give him hope though he himself had none. They were a lost cause, forgotten, tucked away in institutions in the hopes that they could either beat the magic out of them or take it for themselves. How had a powerful and magical society been so easily destroyed by muggles?

He knew the reason, they were not united. The War had torn them apart; even followers of the light had turned away from it all after certain events. They destroyed themselves in truth; muggles just picked up the pieces and stuck them in cages.

The fluorescent light was turned out and Severus was left in heavy darkness. He arranged his body on top of the thin sheet, concentrated on the image of a wet naked Potter until he felt a stirring of arousal. It was routine, his mind would grow tired in the long silent hours but he was unable to sleep unless his body was tired too. He pulled the gown up around his waist and wrapped his long fingers around his erection. Tonight he would think of his mouth, hot and wet, lips closed tightly around him, cheeks caved in as he sucked.

The lights came on the same time every morning, or at least Severus assumed it was the same time, he had no clock. He was in the process of convincing his eyes to open when a hand roughly grabbed him and pulled him from bed.

“Get up you filthy freak!” Ah, Monroe, his least favorite guard. A steel toe boot said hello to his ribs and he automatically curled in on himself protecting his groin and face. Yes, the familiar morning beating wakes you up faster than the strongest cup of coffee.

He took a deep breath and made his way to his knees. He knew better by now not to stand until given permission. He may be a proud man but he was not stupid. He did what was necessary to survive, always had.

Monroe dropped a plastic tray from above, porridge splattered onto his gown and floor. It was thick and gray and often got stuck in his throat as he tried to swallow it. Severus ate slowly never taking his eyes of the guard as he loomed over him. His fingers dug into the bowl and lifted the tepid food to his mouth.

His fingers were sticky by the time he was done and his mouth was parched. “Dr. Gray is coming today to have a look at ya. Real treat ya know, having someone that high up come in just to see ya.” Monroe sneered at him, picked up the tray and latched the door behind him.

Dr. Gray had stopped by to look at several of the wizards and witches. He liked to experiment with them; his patients were rarely seen walking back out of his lab. Lucious Malfoy, Charlie Weasley, Victor Krum and Luna Lovegood were the only patients of Gray that he had recognized.

Lovegood had been an odd girl back at Hogwarts, always spewing random facts that only she believed to be true. It was a shame really what they had done to her. Now it was his turn, relief and fear formed a bubble in his chest. Perhaps this would all end soon, he really should be grateful that the man had chosen him.