Pawns | A Draco Malfoy Love Story

Cell Mate

I stayed leaning against the same spot for at least 15 minutes. I didn't stand up to explore my surroundings - I knew there was no way out.

I couldn't see how large the room was; the back half of it was completely hidden in the shadows.

Suddenly, I heard scuffling.

In an instant, my tired mind and body became alert, and I pushed myself off of the wall. I got to my feet and started walking slowly into the dark abyss ahead. I no longer had my wand since Wormtail took it a long time ago and so I balled my fist as I didn't know what else could possibly be down here.

"Hello?" I called, timidly, trying to keep my raspy voice steady.

And from the darkness, emerged an old, frail man with hair almost as white as his malnourished skin.

My fear faded at the sight and I scrunched my eyes trying to see if I knew him personally.

"Ten and three quarter inches," he said in a rough voice, like he hadn't used it in a while. "Yew wood with a core of..." the man continued.

His voice and his face focused in my mind as he recited in perfect memory what my wand was made of. I slowly realized this frail man was Olivander.

"Sir?" I said, cutting him off as he started to describe my wand's supple flexibility. "What are you doing here?" I asked confused, rushing over to him and grabbing his elbow to support him. It looked like walking, let alone standing, was taking him tremendous effort.

"They came for me almost a year ago," he said, putting his weight down on my arm.

A year? I was completely horrified. As we walked towards the front of the cellar where there was at least a little bit of light, I was able to take a closer look at him. He was skin and bones. His face was hollow and his hair was straw. It was scary to stare for too long.

"My child," he said, stopping in his tracks and looking at me. "I heard your screams from here. You have my deepest sympathies for the death of your father."

I choked on the air in my throat and just nodded.

"These are cruel people," he continued. "Why have they targeted you?"

I was uncomfortable at his question. It was largely my own fault I guess that I was here, but I couldn't bring myself to explain how I got tangled into all of it.

"Long story," I mumbled. "For another time," I said trying to sound polite.

We made it to the wall and he pressed his back into it, sliding down and slumping on the floor. I sat next to him.

"Why did they take you?" I asked.

He explained to me that He Who Must Not Be Named needed an expert in wands. I was curious and so I pressed. He told me that the Dark Lord has an interest in learning about how he might be able to overtake Harry's wand since it failed him in the past. I asked more, but he grew uncomfortable and suddenly suffered from a coughing attack. I didn't press after this.

We sat in silence for a long time. I couldn't just how much time had passed - there was no way at all to tell time. My stomach started to make noise and Olivander drifted in and out of sleep a few times.

The light had faded from the staircase and the whole room was almost completely dark. Olivander mumbled a few times but I never fully caught what he was saying until he started to speak louder.

"Please...I don't know," he groaned.

I shifted against the wall to look at him. His eyes were scrunched closed, but even in the dim lighting I could see that they we wet. He was crying in his sleep. I shook his arm gently.

"Sir, sir, it's okay," I said, trying to wake him calmly.

He kept mumbling. Then, "Please!" he shouted, making me jump.

"Sir!" I said, shaking him more aggressively. His shrivelled, hollow face was even scarier scrunched in fear like this.

He awoke with a start and his eyes were wide in alarm. He grabbed my forearm tightly, almost as if it were reflex. "You don't know what he's like," he professed in alarm, his eyes still glassy having not regained his senses. His sullen face looked horrifying in the dark and his stare bored into me as he spoke.

I said nothing in return, too stunned and scared to respond.

He closed his eyes once again and released his grip on my arm, slumping back against the wall like it never happened.

Even though Olivander had told me that Voldemort needed his help, I didn't fully grasp what that must have entailed until now.

Olivander had had direct contact with Voldemort. He was, and is still being, tortured for information.

I felt a lump in my throat and my mouth got drier if it was even possible. I couldn't say when, but I knew it was coming.

I'd be questioned too.

*

Olivander was asleep again. I struggled to keep my eyes open and yet it was impossible to fall asleep. I was alone with just my thoughts.

"Draco where are we?" I asked slowly, getting the sense that he knew exactly where we were. He didn't answer me, but instead looked down at the ground, eyes fixed on his shoes.

"Draco!" I said his name again. "What's going on?" I asked, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. I couldn't explain it, but I had a bad feeling. I felt a deep pit growing in my stomach.

He spoke without looking at me.

"I need you to listen," he said flatly.

I thought about that night while sitting in the cold, dark room, starving and barely awake. Over and over, against my will, my mind replayed the moment that I realized I was a nothing but a fool.

It had to have been hours now that I sat in that cellar. It was probably the next day, likely very early in the morning. I was shivering and in a cold sweat.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I didn't move from the wall. Olivander was still slumped next to me.

"Please, look at me," I heard Draco's voice say said softly.

I didn't. I could see him from the corner of my eye and he was holding something in both hands.

"I'll just leave this here then," he said, placing what sounded like a plate down on the hard floor.

I turned my head slightly to see. It was a croissant and some cheese. Not a very big portion, but I was starving and this was practically a feast. I didn't move though. I didn't wan't to be grateful - not after everything he'd put me through.

Suddenly the plate was pushed towards me, sliding on the ground in circles until it stopped against my thigh.

I looked at the portion again. It was small and just enough to feed one person.

"Where's Olivander's?" I asked, looking at him finally.

"Oh," he said very quietly. He hadn't brought any other food.

"Really?" I retorted, annoyed. "'Oh,'" I repeated, scoffing and shaking my head.

He was pathetic.

I slid the plate back over to him rather aggressively and it rang loudly on the thick bars. I heard him sigh, pausing for a moment to look at me before leaving.

When he came back it was with a flat piece of white bread.

"It's not easy, you know, stealing food,"he said. "They grow suspicious and I'm trying to keep all of us out of more trouble. I'm sorry that this is all I can do."

He gently put it on the plate and left again.