Book 2: Of Iron & Gold

1: Eternity

WARNING: Disturbing images ahead

The chill wrapped around my hollow body like it wished to whisper its secrets into my roaring ears. Echoes of mumbling prisoners around me had become the only semblance of consciousness I could muster.

With each passing day, his face imprinted into my soul and burned my memory.

The horror that possessed his features ate at my heart because of the utter fear that leaked from his gaze. My only hope was of his safety, and considering the Dark Lord's wishes of Dumbledore's wretched demise had been deemed true, I was comforted by the possibility.

Draco Malfoy.

Each day that passed, my thoughts singularly wandered to him in my attempts to contact him through our bond. But I was met with nothing on the other side. It was like the walls that surrounded me served to block the magic that flowed through my veins.

It was difficult to determine how many days had passed since the night that Voldemort had captured me, but I had counted seven.

A week I had been trapped in this cramped cell. I was left with the same clothes that covered my broken body that treacherous night.

Looking around the square area, I noted the horrendous stench that lingered throughout the entirety of the stone hell hole, which was most likely due to the wooden buckets that served as a toilet amongst other things.

A thin layer of moist hay covered the cold, stone floor of my cells. Its prickled endings poked at my skin constantly, leaving no facade of comfort in my aching bones and dirty skin.

My cracked fingernails screamed in pain as I wrapped my fingers around the rusted metal bars that became the teasing barrier between me and any taste of freedom.

There was no sign of Voldemort or any other Death Eaters, but I knew they loitered just through the slabs of stone that rested above my head.

I felt their silent pleas.

My human contact was limited to the house elf who passed out the stale bread and undercooked slosh every day after sunrise and just before dusk, when the moonlight drenched my cells and left me to dream of the scurrying life that bloomed just outside these walls.

The small amount of food and metallic water I would consume more than likely ended up in the crusted bucket that sat in the corner of the cell. It was Hell.

Disease infested rats stalked the halls late at night in the hopes of finding crumbles of remaining food, or to feast on a rotting corpse that would eventually be discovered and hauled off the next morning.

Disembodied screams could sometimes be heard from upper levels of the mansion we inhabited. More so than not, those screams would end abruptly with the crackling of a spell.

It served as a message to the others. To prisoners like myself.

Don't disobey the orders of evil.

Yet, I had every intention of spitting right on the orders of Voldemort.

Still clenching the metal bars and peering at the other prisoners in the dim light, flashes of that night pierced through my steel veil. Shutters racked my bones.

The way Voldemort's voice licked my senses, his tone trailing through my mind. The memory flashed in and out. "You will break, my dear. You will give me what I want."

I pulled on the tether in my mind to stop as I remembered his fingers grazing my inner forearm, wicked intent glamoured beneath the touch. His lips pressed against my ear as he whispered once more, "You will be mine."