Peach Colored Walls

Harry’s tongue throbbed; a metallic taste filled his mouth, his body arched up off the table. One of these days, he just knew he was going to bite his tongue clean off. The only question was whether they would let him choke on it or not.

Salty tears streamed down his pale cheeks, his breathing was rapid, the air irritating his already sore throat. One…two….three…pain! He choked on his screams, his jaw clenched and his muscles tightened. Relief, his body slowly relaxed, he licked his parched lips. Harry opened his eyes and stared up at the blurry ceiling, his glasses had been left back in his room. He felt the man’s touch on his temple again. One….two….three….he blacked out.

The first thing Harry was aware of when he came to was the feel of wet cloth against his skin. He pissed himself again and the bastards had left him in the soiled gown. He lay perfectly still; he knew how sore his muscles would be and wanted to rest them as long as possible.

Shock treatment made him think of home, of Voldemort and the graveyard. Crucio felt a lot like getting a jolt of electricity sent through you. They would ask him questions, if he didn’t respond fast enough, well he never seemed to answer fast enough for them.

They were forever asking questions about other wizards, where they might be, how did he become a wizard, and a thousand other questions he really didn’t have answers to. Sometimes he thought if Snape hadn’t killed Dumbledore maybe things wouldn’t have turned out like this and then he thought if he hadn’t killed Voldemort they wouldn’t be here either.

He’d only seen a couple of the inmates since he’d arrived. The day he saw Collin Creevey was a horrific memory for him. He hadn’t recognized him at first, so many of their faces had disappeared from his mind. Dark circles stood out against his pale skin, his face was sunken and scarred. He had been sitting in a large orange plastic chair, staring at a checkers board, his left arm resting beside it, his right sleeve empty. They thought perhaps wizards would be able to regrow limbs with their magic.

Harry opened his eyes and stared up at the familiar ceiling above him. His voice was scratchy but he tried to sing a few words to break the silence of the room. “My life has been a nightmare….my soul is fractured to the bone….and if I must be lonely, I think I’d rather be alone.” Harry coughed for a moment, tears coming to his eyes in sympathy for his tender chest. “You can not save me…you can not even save yourself…”

“Such a pretty voice.” Harry groaned and listened as the guard clapped from somewhere by the door. “I’ve brought your favorite foods.” Military boots thumped against the floor, Harry saw his tray lowered to the small table next to his bed. “Spinach, Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes. Can’t have our little sodomite become all skin and bones now can we.” He chuckled, “the other inmates won’t want to play with you anymore if you get too skinny.”

“Piss off, Williams!” Harry was too tired to put the proper anger in the words.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll play with you if that vulture gets tired of your arse.” He bared his teeth at him like a predator would, couldn’t really call it smiling.

Harry ignored the man’s leering and stretched his arms above his head. He winced and bit back a groan as his body remembered his treatment. Harry pulled himself up and grabbed the tray. They weren’t allowed silverware, Harry scooped some mashed potatoes into his hand, they were cold.

The problem with being imprisoned in a small room with no one but a random guard for company was that one finds oneself slowly loosing their mind. He had no clue what day it was; every time he woke he assumed it was a new day though he had no way of knowing. There was no window, it could be day or night, he could haven been here for three years or three months. Harry was terrified of becoming insane because he knew that he was slowly reaching that point.

Harry had woken up three times since his last treatment. He heard the click of the lock on his door, his heart raced. “Get up and face the wall!”

Harry stumbled to his feet; he placed his nose against the peach colored walls. “Shower day, boy.” Harry pressed a smile into the wall.

Strong hands gripped his wrists behind his back. Harry enjoyed walking to the showers. Sometimes he was able to glance into another inmate’s room though he didn’t remember anyone anymore. It was nice to see that he wasn’t alone.

Harry walked into the shower room, like usual he could already hear the water. He tossed his gown on the floor, placed his glasses on the bench and stepped into a cloud of steam. His heart dropped.

The man was shorter, his shoulders too wide, his back wasn’t scarred. Harry didn’t know who this man was he only knew that it wasn’t his Severus.

“Potter” the voice was hesitant “Harry?” He nodded once, his unease growing, the man had recognized him. “Fuck!”

Harry tried to dodge the arms that suddenly wrapped themselves around him. “Shit, Harry not you too.”

The man pulled back and his eyes traveled the length of Harry’s scrawny body. “Bastards, all of them.” There was something about that voice, Harry squinted and stared into the man’s face.

“Oliver Wood?” Oliver grinned and hugged him again. Harry closed his eyes and returned the embrace.

“How’ve you been, Harry?” Oliver laughed, “stupid question. You look like shit!”

“Thanks.” Harry moved toward a shower and stepped under the spray of hot water.

“No one’s seen you Harry; we all thought you were dead.” Oliver grabbed a bar of soap and started lathering his underarms. “Must you keep locked away all the time.”

“Yeah, I guess. I usually shower with Snape. Probably why nobody has seen me.”

“Snape? Shit he’s still around?” Harry shrugged. Was he still around? If so why wasn’t he here with Harry? He was suppose to here, he promised.

Oliver leaned in close; his nose just touched the edge of Harry’s ear. “Have you been practicing Harry?”

“Practicing what?”

Oliver’s eyes darted over to the door. “Wandless magic, Harry. We’ve all been practicing. Ya gotta have a really strong emotion behind it.”

Harry hadn’t tried a spell since they broke his wand. He stared at Oliver a moment. He looked at the door and then back to Oliver’s smiling face. Harry searched his memory and picked a spell. Harry concentrated hard on the other bar of soap. “Accio soap!”

Nothing happened, he was too numb inside. Harry couldn’t conjure any emotion let alone one strong enough to make a tiny sliver of soap fly into his hand. It was hopeless. Oliver looked defeated; he shrugged his shoulders and went back to washing up.

Harry couldn’t forget the conversation he’d had with Oliver Wood. They were all practicing magic? Were they planning an escape? Fools!

He kept trying, it still didn’t work. Harry thought about Ron dying and then tried to make his pillow hover in the air, nothing. He thought of his parents and then attempted to call his gown to him from the other corner, nothing. Harry thought of Severus and then concentrated on using a stinging spell on Williams, nothing.

Harry didn’t think anything of it when he was led to the lab for his treatment. He became concerned when they told him to disrobe, that was something new. The air was cold and his nipples hardened. The paper covering on the doctor table crumbled as he squirmed.

“Inmate 143P it has been decided that in order to prevent further spread of magic all men under the age of thirty-five are to be sterilized.”

Harry tried to sit up but his shoulders were pinned down, he looked up into Williams’s face. “Please don’t” Williams smiled at him.

“This process will be a bit painful, boy. I’m afraid we are running a bit low on anesthetic. Now hold very still.”

Harry panicked, he thrust his hips up into the air, kicked his legs out, he screamed. Another guard appeared from the shadows and grabbed his legs. He held his ankles as far apart as possible exposing him for the doctor.

Harry saw the scalpel, felt the doctor’s hand rest on his thigh, his whole body suddenly felt hot. The blood rushed to the surface, his hands began to tingle, the light above him exploded.

The doctor’s eyes widened in alarm, glass shards rained down on them, the tray of instruments flew against the wall. “Fuck!” Williams let go of his shoulders, the palms of his hands had blistered.

Harry yelped as a needle was jabbed into his thigh. Things went fuzzy, he felt as though he was floating. Just before everything went dark Harry couldn’t help but think, 'I did it, I did magic.'