This Bitter Earth

TWENTY SIX

A/N: Hi. Yes, it's me. Heh. Surprise! We wouldn't be here without Bree so if you're happy to be reading this chapter, thank her as well as me. She is the reason I am not still rewriting things and rearranging them, then rewriting them to fit again. Speaking of, I did a lot of this, so if there are some continuity errors- sorry. I'll go through in a couple of days and try to clean any up, but I am very tired right now and have stared at this stuff enough. It's your turn now!

Enjoy!

Soundtrack: "Circles" by Hollywood Undead and "Gilded Lily" by Cults

TWENTY SIX

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Draco was pacing. There wasn't fuck all to do in this goddamn cell except walk from one wall, take three long strides, and turn to walk back across. His boots hit the stone ground with resounding thuds, breaking up the alternating sounds of hopeless wailing as he reached the door and howling wind when he turned at the window.

The window, that's how they must be getting in. Or at least, he thought so. Draco hadn't seen the door open once since he got here. Food appeared once a day, if it could be called food. Even the rabbit food Frenchie had made at the cottage had been better than the stale bread and cup of dirty water that froze if he didn't drink it fast enough.

Sometimes he did. Sometimes he was busy with the Fake Granger who was in his head distracted him with some terrible childhood memory of his Father snapping the back of his hand against Draco's cheek after he wouldn't stop crying and his grey water froze solid. The thirst didn't bother him as much as the fact that he was starting to think that the Fake Granger was turning solid too.

Fuck, he hated it here. Draco slowed as he reached the bars. If the dementors got in the cells this way, then maybe he could get out. He gripped two of the bars, feeling the cold iron against his palms, and tried... pulling. Nothing happened.

Sniffing, Draco shook out his arms, trying to warm them up a little in hopes that he could make some sort of progress this time. He flexed his fingers as he wrapped them around the bars once more. Taking a few deep breaths, he counted to three before he tried again.

One.

Two.

Three.

Feeling the muscles in his neck strain, Draco pulled with all his strength, forcing himself to hold on, to keep going, to... The scarred skin stretched and pulled tight. His arms were shaking, straining—

"Fuck!" Draco was panting when he let go.

Okay, now he was getting angry. He'd been here for a few weeks now and had lost a little of his muscle mass, but something should have happened. Right? Right.

This was bullshit. He was better than this. He was Draco Malfoy for fuck's sake.

Something snorted behind him. Some thing, because as much as she looked like his girl, she wasn't. She couldn't be. His Granger had never been this... mean.

Now she was laughing. It wasn't the soft ringing he loved to hear, but a bitter, cold thing. Just like her.

"Don't tell me this is your plan."

"Shut up."

"You can't really believe you're the first prisoner to try this. Obviously they are magically reinforced. Any idiot can see that."

Draco ground his teeth as the voice got closer. Why was she here? Why now?

Something fell and rolled across the floor. "Whoops," Fake Granger said with fake concern as his daily cup of dirty water spilled across the floor.