⌘Z (nott) wrote in afic, @ 2011-08-22 17:11:00 |
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The trial had been humiliating, and Theodore, now 'safe' in his cell in Azkaban -- or at least, alone -- could freely regret his decision without it causing harm to anyone. Send Blaise to Azkaban? Happily. And if he got the kiss? Well, these things happened. He could have been at home right now, he thought, enjoying a hot cup of tea, eating something Melinda brought over. Enjoying freedom all the more for the close call he'd had. But instead, he'd done something stupid -- and that's all nobility was, really: stupidity. People were noble because they weren't clever enough to put themselves first. Of all the things he'd known himself to be, an idiot hadn't been on the list, and now he was angry about it. He'd worked so hard to stay out of trouble. To toe the line. And now what? The entire wizarding world would believe he was a traitor. That he'd helped death eaters. Well, of course they would. He'd admitted to it.
He laughed, an ugly, empty sound that sent a white huff of steam into the cold room.
Of the many things of which he was capable, he'd admitted to the one thing he would never do. There was irony there, and he appreciated it, in a grim, weary way.
He'd sacrificed everything for an empty cell and the hope that he was strong enough to survive in here for a month. He'd sacrificed everything for Blaise, whom he'd never liked in more than a cursory way.
Theodore stripped off his featureless shirt, becoming a slash of pale pink in an otherwise imperturbably grey room. A trough of water was set out, and he sat down in front of it, feeling cold from the inside out. Too cold to cultivate any real sort of anger, for all his intentions. He'd never been very good at anger, anyway.
The truth stared back at him from the trough's dark depths. He'd sacrificed everything for a child. Because he couldn't live knowing he'd let someone's father be killed when he could act to stop it. It was selfish. He could be very honest here, alone with his water and his thoughts. 'Alone.' The dementors were always lurking, and though, after only one day, he could already feel the difference between when they were here and when they were further away, the hollowed out chill that soaked him from throat to gut never went away.
He was afraid of them. He could admit that too, alone and private.
He pulled a small piece of paper, folded too many times, from where it was tucked into the thin gauze around his arm. It was just a small piece of parchment. No magic. No secret code. Just a note, with Astoria's name on it. He spread this out on the ground next to his trough so he could read it again when he was finished. This small thing that gave him a little bit of courage.
First the gauze. And Theodore winced as it peeled away from a fresh brand. Another thing he had desperately attempted to avoid. The death eaters had never marked his skin, and he'd sworn the Ministry never would either -- it was funny how things changed. He took the first plunge into the ice-cold water and his skin seemed to go blue with cold as he ran it over his hands, his arms, up onto his shoulders and over his chest, teeth gritted all the while to stop them chattering.
It took up time, keeping clean, but in the end, when he was finished, there would be nothing else to fill in the countless hours of the day, so he was slow. Thoughtful. Careful.
Day 2. It already felt like a lifetime.