Evermore

Chapter Six: I Close My Eyes, But He's Still There

The Carrows painstakingly shackled Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom in the dungeons before leaving them there. They'd wanted to torture them, or curse them somehow, but because both boys were Pure-Bloods—and the Head Boy of Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively—it was all they were permitted to do. The siblings, clad in similar black robes to Severus Snape, slipped from the room, tempted to immobilize or silence the boys, but knew that nobody would be pleased with them for that as they slipped from the room.

"That was awfully stupid of you," Neville said, waiting until the Carrows had left and disappeared up the stairs back to the headmaster's office to speak to his fellow prisoner. "You shouldn't have pissed off Snape like that. He's your godfather, isn't he?"

"What does that matter?" Draco asked, his tone clipped.

"It matters in that he can make things worse for you," Neville said softly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "And what about you?" he sneered, turning over to look at him. "You could have spoken up, you know."

Neville blinked. "What?"

"When I valiantly demanded Snape give me your punishment," Draco replied, his tone steady, while Neville stared at him as if he'd grown another head. "You could have spoken up, but you decided not to. I suppose I know where we stand now."

"The Carrows put a wandless Silencing Charm on me," Neville said softly, and Draco inwardly cursed himself, hating that he'd automatically assumed the worst of him. "They locked my joints as well; that's why I was unable to scream. I was screaming, though, in my head," he went on, and Draco turned his head away from him. "Do you honestly think that I can turn off my feelings that quickly? You might be able to, but not me."

"Sod off, Longbottom," Draco growled, struggling against his chains; they were digging into his wrists, and he had an extremely low tolerance for pain.

"No!" Neville sputtered then, and his heartbeat quickened as Draco turned to look at him, similarly suspended a few feet off the ground. "No, I won't sod off, Draco! I'm sick and tired of pretending to hate you when you know full well that I..."

"You think this is easy for me?" Draco demanded, cutting him off, his voice trembling. "You think I wanted this? Any of this?"

"I don't know," Neville replied, shrugging as best he could around his restraints. "You are, after all, a Slytherin. Slytherins are known for their cunning. How should I know what you want and don't want, when, clearly, you could've used your cunning to...to..."

"To...? What? Spit it out," Draco said, attempting to focus on wandless magic in an attempt to get them both out of there.

"Lead me on," Neville said at last, and Draco's eyes flashed to his.

"What?!" Draco demanded. "You think that I..."

"Clearly, I don't know," Neville said, his tone firm, as he fought to keep Draco's gaze. "You could have been using me to get information..."

Draco scoffed, lowering his eyes. "Please," he muttered, his tone lightening then. "You know as well as I do that I wouldn't pretend to be what I am. My father expects tradition. I don't know if my mother would mind it—I know that she wants what's best for me, like my father, but at the end of it, she cares about my happiness. I wouldn't pretend to be this way," Draco continued, finally allowing himself to look up at Neville again. "Father would likely think it is some kind of curse for letting down You-Know-Who."

"Do you think that?"

"Do I think what?"

"Do you think it's a curse? Being what you are?"