Aphotic Asylum

A/N: Ahh, and here is the second chapter. I hope you all enjoy. I’m just getting used to this websites style of posting, so pardon any minor weirdness… Thanks.

[Disclaimer : I own nothing]

Previously:
Harry swallowed big gulps of air and slowly calmed down. “Th-thanks.” He panted. He paused. “Who are you?”
The body sighed. “Draco. Draco Malfoy.”
***

“Oh.” Harry said. There was a slightly awkward silence. “How the fuck did we get here?” Draco shifted uncomfortably above him, but he didn’t answer. “Malfoy?”

“Oh come on Potter, do you honestly have to ask?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You really don’t remember, do you?”

“Obviously not, Malfoy, or I wouldn’t be asking such a daft git.”

“The Dark Lord happened, Potter. He put us in here.”

“Oh.” Harry answered lamely. “Well… we need a plan to get out of here.”

Draco scoffed. “What a brilliant idea, Hero Harry. Let’s just bust out of this prison.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“There isn’t a way to get out of here, Potter. Do you think that Voldemort has such a lack of intelligence that he would put us in a box, with our wands, and no extra measures to keep us in previously mentioned box?”

“Well… there has to be something…”

“No. There is nothing.”

They were both silent for a long while. Neither was very comfortable and Draco was filled with no small amount of bitterness. Then Harry spoke.

“What did you do to get put in here?”
“I offended the Dark Lord.”
“How so? Did you not practice your groveling often enough?”

Draco reeled back as far as their confines would let them and punched the-boy-who-lived in the jaw. He hit him again and again, and Harry fought back. They struggled against each other, hitting and scratching and biting. Finally, simultaneously, they realized the fight was futile.

“You’re such a dick Potter. You don’t know anything.”

“Fuck you Malfoy. I just don’t see how a pretty boy Death Eater could end up in the same spot as Voldemort’s arch enemy.” Harry snapped.

“I’m not a Death Eater, Potter.” Draco said quietly.

This comment silenced Harry. He sat laid there quietly beneath Draco.

“Do you have the Dark Mark?”
“No.”
“Oh. Why Not?”

Draco sighed deeply, regretfully. The, haughtily, he answered. “A Malfoy, a real Malfoy, bows to no half breed.”

Harry laughed. “Is that all Malfoy?”

“What do you mean is that all?”

“It is an awfully flimsy reason. OoO, I’m a Malfoy! Look at me prance! I’m better than everyone!” Harry taunted.

“Do you want me to beat you face some more Potter?”

“Admit it, Malfoy. You are such a stuck up little nancy boy.”

“You’re walking thin ice Potter. Don’t forget, you’re stuck here with me. There is no running to Dumbledore from here.”

Harry stopped again, quiet falling between them. Draco waited for a response, but none came.

“Haven’t got anything to say to that Potter?” Again, Harry said nothing. He lay there unmoving. “Potter?” Draco fumbled through his robes and pulled out his cherry wood wand. “Lumos.” He waited for his eyes to adjust, then looked at Harry. He had his face turned away from Draco, staring at the side of the box. “Potter?”

Harry turned and met his eyes. “I do not run to Dumbledore, Malfoy. You know nothing about me.”

“Oh come on Potter. Everyone knows life goes easy on saints.”

Harry scoffed. “Moron. Life is anything but easy on saints. That’s why they’re saints. I’m no exception.”

“The Potter boy finally admits his sainthood! And he isn’t completely brainless! I’m amazed. Can I get this all in writing? I can’t wait to show the others.”

Harry went ridged, turning away.

“Tell me about your troubles, Potter. I may not have one of those fancy quills, or any quill at all, but I figure with a bit of your blood and some cloth, I could be the next Rita Skeeter!” Harry gave no visible response.
“I can see it now! It will be the front page of the Prophet, you know. I’m that good of a writer. It will read ‘The Potter boy spills his guts… Literally.’”

Harry remained motionless. “Really Potter what the hell is it with you?”

“Are you getting a kick out of this?”

“Finally, a response. And sure, why not get a kick out of it?”

“I’ll tell you why. Because we’re stuck here, together. I don’t even know where the bloody hell here is!”

“We’re in a coffin.” Draco answered nonchalantly.

“How can you be so calm about that!” raged Harry

“I’ve had quiet awhile to get used to the idea. There isn’t anything I can do to change it, so why get so worked up?”

“I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know why you’re here.”

Draco sighed over dramatically. “They really did your mind in, didn’t they?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about the Death Eaters. They must’ve crucio’d you about a billion times.”

Harry squinted at him. “You’re lying.”

“Am I? How else do you explain the big gap in your memory? Tell me, Potter, what is the last thing you remember?”

“I…I remember… my seventeenth birthday.”

“Ah. You see, that was,” he paused to look thoughtful, “roughly three months ago. It’s October now.”

“October?” Harry asked, perplexed.

“Yep. Quite a lot has happened since then, too.”

“What, Malfoy? Tell me what has happened.”

“Well, you were kidnapped. You left your Aunt and Uncle’s house, and you were kidnapped. Not sure how all that worked out. Anyway... We ran into each other briefly. Then later we were both told, separately, of our fate.”

“And what fate is that?”

“This fate, of course. To be buried alive together.”
***

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