Save me (Drarry)

Chapter 2🍤

Harry was lead-more like dragged-down a stairwell and thrown into one of the many barred cells lining the walls. Harry's attention caught a cell right ahead of him. While the death eaters unlocked his cell (one to the left of the eye catching one), Harry peered into the cell. Inside was a crippled figure lying with their side facing away from Harry, curled into the fetal position. Their button up was ripped and stained red with blood. On their skin a number of scars, scabs, and blood stains covered most of their visible skin. Harry felt dizzy and nauseous, like he just kicked a puppy (but definitely much, much worse).

Since he couldn't see their face he had no idea if it was a male or female because of how fragile and starved they looked it was anybody's guess. He couldn't even get a good idea of their age before he was shoved aggresively into a cell roughly the size of his shared dorm room in the Gryffindor's living area-even their prisons are extravagant he thought- maybe a bit smaller. The ground, ceiling, and three of the walls were stone. The fourth wall was rowed with iron bars.

The death eaters locked the door, sneered at Harry and quickly sauntered back up the stairs out of the dungeon.

He paced restlessly around the cell until his legs hurt and his head pounded from trying to wrap his mind around the situation. The entire thing still bewildered him, he'd already established that Voldemort was scouring the world, convincing others to join his army, but what he couldn't understand was how they had imprisoned him. How in Merlin's name could they have known he was in that alley to begin with? Mcgonagall had sent him their on strict Hogwarts business,-oh great he was starting to sound like Hagrid- anyone who wasn't Mcgonagall or Harry should've known that he was in that alley. But then again, it was in a busy place and a death eater parading around as if their were nothing more than a ministry loving wizard and spotted Harry slink into the back street.

All of this was so jumbled and distorted, he groaned in anguish, angrily kicking the iron bars repeatedly. He was about to kick it again when he heard a husky voice mumble something from the cell to the left of his, sounding like a plea to stop his boyband noise making. His foot froze his air waiting to see if the boy from the cell over would speak again.

"Hello...?" Harry asked nervously partially because he desperately wanted to know if the boy from before was even alive. "Are you alright?" Nothing happened for what felt like a life time scaring Harry, what if he is dead, he thought, a lump forming in his throat. This is silly, I don't even know for sure that he is a he or if he isn't just sleeping, why am I on the verge of crying I don't even know them! He ranted to himself.

Hours had gone by and Harry was certain by know that he had just made up the boy mumbling anything to begin with. Harry wasn't sure of the time but he could sense the eerie quiet seeping throughout the manor, so he could conclude that it was probably night. He lay down and nestled into the back right corner of the cage trying to find a comfortable position, at least as comfortable as one could being a cold dungeon all alone. After a while Harry could feel his eye lids growing heavier and his muscles relaxing. Finally a light yet nightmarish sleep overtook his consciousness, but Harry was awake not even an hour later by a soft voice coming from the cell over.

It was so quiet Harry almost mistook it as his own thoughts, his breath caught in his throat as he listened endlessly to the boy sing to himself, unaware of Harry's presence.

"I'm headed straight for the floor, the alcohol served its tour," a sad shadow weighed down on the lyrics, the melody sounded full of grief, if that was even possible. It portrayed a story of tragedy and loss, mirroring Harry's situation. Did it represent the blonds past too? "And it's heading straight for my skin, leaving me daft and dim. I've got this shake in my legs," his voice faltered, " shaking the thoughts from my head. But who put these waves in the door? I crack and out I pour..." his singing slowly shifted into more of a hum, with the occasional sniff or broken sob.

Even through the voice cracks, sobs, and long breaks when he would catch his breath, Harry could still tell his voice was beautiful, it reminded Harry of how light and carefree he always felt when he was flying or playfully bickering with Ron and Hermione. The voice sounded so familiar to Harry, as if he had heard it over a thousand times before, but he couldn't tell who it was. He hummed along with the lyrics in his head, dwelling in the lighthearted feelings he knew were only temporary. The boy stopped singing after the song ended, but Harry couldn't help but extol him for his talent.

"That was amazing! You are really good at singing." He praised not caring if the boy knew he was there. He heard a gasps of surprise, as the boy realised he wasn't as alone in the dungeon as he thought. Harry also realised that his earlier prusumpion that he was a he was correct.

"W-who are you? A-and w-why are you here?!" The boy's voice broke, but he could really care less, what he wanted to know was who was on the other side of his wall.

"I'm Harry Potter, and why I'm here is pretty self-explanitory if you know who I am." Harry responded.

( kind of POV switch, but since it is third person not really... so just roll with it)

The boy sat up, bolt straight. Merlin's beard it was Potter! Of all people to not only hear him sing, but to also find him in such a humiliating setting was revolting. His father may not treat him as such, but he was still a Malfoy. Draco may have been stripped of his dignity, food, and bed, but he still had his pride. "And who are you?" Harry asked curiously. Oh thank Merlin, Potter doesn't recognise my voice! The bloody fool! But his question brought up another problem, what could Draco say his name was? Draco glanced around quickly trying to think of a name. He snatched up a piece of torn off cloth from his shirt that was lying on the ground, he looked at the name of the brand and responded trying to sound undaunted by the question, as not to alert Potter of his bluff.

"Uh... I'm Finlay."

Shout out to @sophia35sf for the amazing song recommendation! It fit the story perfectly. Also I know the song wasn't around back then, but do I care? No.

Also I know Draco wouldn't know muggle songs, but once again, do I care?? No.