Ch 4 Play Dead
I play dead to hide my heart

He was reading. Or at least he was pretending to read anyway. It was rather hard to when Goyle insisted on ranting about the fixations that the Ministry was undergoing concerning what to do with the remaining unemployed Death Eaters and how they should be placed in Azkaban with them. According to Goyle they needed more helping hands around the dreadful prison. And it was such oodles of fun to watch new people to get the jitters and such around the Dementors.

Draco had actually had about enough of the talk until one of the other guards came rushing in looking more than a little stressed. More like he had just got caught in a hall with a Dementor. The idea made Draco snigger as he looked up with raised eyebrows.

"They've all started screaming," the guard, peering over his shoulder into the hall. "And the one's just laying on the ground, twitching."

"Has he said a word?" Asked Draco standing up, Goyle was already to the door.

The guard shook his head. "Not one, sir. He's just laying there."

Draco cursed. "Bloody sod. He dies and I'll have hell to pay - Goyle, not one more word about them sending the rest of the Death Eaters here. I don't quite fancy spending time away from my family with my aunt and uncle working with me. Then I would be spending time with family."

Goyle led the way, not having let up his rant. Draco rather missed the days when all that man ever did was grunt and throw shoddy spells at people Draco hated. Then he had no mind and no real opinion of his own. Now all he could talk about was getting more staff at Azkaban. What he didn't understand was that the only staff they got at Azkaban were rather low ranking Death Eaters and the lower one usually worked under Draco, who was considered a low ranking Death Eater. It was a family shame, actually, but he didn't mind. He had little to no care what his family thought. He just rathered his father dead and his wife, well, he wanted her anywhere but near him.

Truth be told as shoddy as his job was Draco liked it. Long hours away from home was time spent in a place where he could watch people he knew and loathed waste away. But there was one that he focused on. One that he continued deal with. Potter. Potter. Potter. Potter. Everything he had done while in Azkaban was to test that mans sanity, to see what his limits were, and then they were to keep him sane. Sane enough to keep living for the sole purpose to watch everyone around him crumble, crack, and fade away.

"I don't see why-"

"Goyle, the only way that they would send more Death Eaters to us would be because they found some one dumber than you," Draco snapped, speeding up and turning the corner. It wasn't long before the sounds of the screams reached his ears but he past up each and everyone of them, counting each cell as he went. And then he came to it.

And it was true. Potter was just laying there, staring out at nothing so Draco felt compelled to do something. He kicked the bars.

"Still got a pulse then, Potter?" He snarled, bending down as close as he could to the other mans level. "The vampires at the Ministry could always use a new meal. That's where we plan on sending your lover boy when he finally kicked it, you know. But, by the looks of it, you might be taking that trip before him. Seem to be doing that a lot, don't you? Wound up in here first, and fancy this, you be vampire feed first."

And it happened. Potter looked up, but didn't make any further movements. That was, however, before he decided to strike out with his fist and make a rather loud banging noise against the bars of his cell. The blond man fell back and sneered.

Potter slowly stood up and staggered to his cot. Draco was truly amazed. It was the first time since that man had arrived that he had seen him walk. He thought for sure that he would be horribly bent. "Still got a pulse, Malfoy, yeah," he croaked tiredly sitting down. Eventually he laid down and turned green eyes to Draco. "Go home and shag a pretty little lady, will you? I think we raving lunatics could do with a night without you around." He coughed and closed his eyes.

Draco sneered and hit the bars with the palms of his hands. He swore that Potter just laughed and he narrowed his eyes. "Potter, you just love these little games of yours, don't you?"

The dark haired man licked his lips dryly and turned his head. "I love it when you don't speak. Oh, and I also like food. That would be nice some time soon. Go home, Malfoy." and Potter turned to the wall, squeezing his eyes shut, coughing a few times.

"You're a ponce, you know, Potter." Draco snarled.

But neither man said anything more after that comment was made. Draco stormed from one end of the hall to the next, stopping only briefly in front of Potter's cell. His mine was racing a mile a minute, and still he couldn't figure out the man in the cell. What kept him going, what he thought of both day and night and why he kept on staring. He would talk, but only when no one guard was around. He would talk to the others in the cells and he would cry for them. He would always cry for them, it was just how it was. It was just how he was, and Draco could simply not understand him.

"He's more than you will see, Malfoy. He's more than you say."

He snarled, remembering the Weasley girls words and his eyes flashed to the man laying upon his cot. Was he really more than a worthless pile of skin a bone on a cot? Was a more than a washed up hero boy? He didn't know and he couldn't care. His job forbid him to care, no matter how much he may have wanted to care. It just wasn't allowed.

"Your Weasley says hello, Potter," Draco sneered, walking away from the cell. "You should be ashamed, Potter. You threw her away, and for what? Good old Terry Boot. Course, you've never told her, you never had the chance and now a little birdie spilt the seeds. Heartbroken she is. I imagine she wont get over the shock for quite sometime, actually. But it's just as well. Can't be wanting her back now can you? After all, you've gone and started playing for the other team."

But Potter didn't seem to listen; he had shut his eyes and was facing the wall away from the cell doors. What more was there to say to the rat? Draco shook his head and continued on his merry way a frown present on his face and a look of thought in his eyes. What was there to do?

- - - - - - -

"That's tough," Luna said idly, blinking with her head in her hands.

Ginny groaned. "I know! First, it's like, their lot has to go and look for me and then place me under house arrest and when I'm finally allowed out who do they send to have words? Malfoy! Bloody Malfoy!"

"I suppose it's just as well though, isn't it? After all, he is in charge of the goings on in Azkaban and Harry's well being."

Luna sat back in her chair, playing with the hem of her oversized pink sweater. She smiled somewhat wistfully as she looked over at Ginny. She moved to fold her legs on her chair under her black skirt. She took a sip of her tea before stirring in two spoons of sugar and continuing to pick at the hem of she sweater. The truth was, she had something to tell, but how exactly she was going to tell it, well, that was just a bit hard to think of. Instead she watched as Ginny took a drink of her tea and sighed.

This was how they spent their time. They very well should have been talking about the great plan that the Resistance had in mind. But today, as Luna had declared, was a day for just the two of them. They were out for tea and scones and then later they would be off for dinner. After hearing about what a terrible prude Malfoy had been just the other night Luna figured that she could get Ginny out of the house and away from that brother of hers just to breathe. Hopefully it was working. The redhead did look a bit more relaxed than she had earlier in the day.

"Maybe I can convince them to let me move back to Ireland," Ginny said into her tea, looking up at Luna. "Surely they wouldn't have a problem with that, would they?"

The girls pondered and then Luna spoke up, "They might. You know how things are run now a days, don't you? They've seen you hiding out once, they're just going to assume that you're going to go back to plot something top secret with the rebels there. And why wouldn't you! Given the lot we have here, I'd give my left shoe to go over there and plot the down fall of this Ministry of ours," she said with a nod crossing her arms over her chest.

Ginny sighed. "Luna, I wish you'd stop hanging around Tonks so much. You're starting to sound exactly like her. It's scary. Also, do you know where the meeting will be?"

"I reckon I do," Luna said playfully, picking up her cup. "It might be a little place just outside of Wales. It'll be nice to see everyone again, wouldn't it?"

Ginny frowned, tossing a bit of one of her scones at the other girl. "Not everyone, mind you! Just everyone that we've got for now-"

The other girl gave a snicker. "Which is everyone. Or are you forgetting again?"

"Luna," Ginny sighed.


"Shut up and drink your tea."

The two sat there for a moment or two longer in silence, each thinking separate things. Ginny found herself dazzled with her tea and nearly lost herself in the warmth while Luna was at once back to picking at the hem of her pink sweater.