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The Hole	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Draco/Ron Views: 7359 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of J.K.Rowlings ideas, characters, or works. I do not make any money from this fan fiction.

Chapter List
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The Hole

Ron lay on his side, curled in a ball, his eyes closed to the sounds of dripping water, and his own breath. He sometimes imagined he could hear the storm raging outside, threatening to blow the prison into the sea, and drown them all. But it was just a fantasy. He was positive that the prison was magically reinforced, keeping the weather from really wearing it down, or tearing it apart.
A soft scratching noise came from the other side of his cell, so faint it was barely audible, and he wrapped his arms tighter around himself, trying to ignore the sound of the rats that managed to slip in and out of his food slot. The scratching kept going, constant, and rhythmic. Unlike the frenzied spurts from rats he’d grown accustomed to. He sat up, and looked around the lightless cell, looking for the source. There was nothing. No rats, no insects. Just that same erosive rhythm.
He lay back down, and closed his eyes, shutting the strange noise out. He didn’t need anything else to drive him crazier. He had plenty, right here, in his own head.
“Dammit.” A soft whisper echoed to his ears, and he scowled. He hadn’t had hallucinations before. This could only be the next step toward total dementia. He sat back up, looking at the door. Was there someone out there? Had someone come to visit and mock one of the other inmates?
Ron stared at the door, listening for any other noises, but even the scratching had stopped. The water dripping was his only company. He lay back down, and tried to fall asleep. At least then, he could escape to someplace not here. Equally as horrific, but different.
“Hello?”
He scrunched into a tighter ball, fighting the voice. He wouldn’t give in to the madness. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.
“Can you hear me?”
Ron sat upright. If that was a hallucination, it was much too convincing.
“Who’s there?” He asked the room, staring confusedly at the blank walls, the unbudging door.
“What’s your name?” The voice asked, and Ron puzzled. Shouldn’t his own lunacy know who he was? He felt a tiny spark of anger. Even in his own head, he wasn’t well-known. Of course not.
“Leave me alone.” He hissed, thumping back to his side, and covering his head with his arms. He had no interest in delusions.
“I’m in the next cell over. I’ve picked a hole through the wall.” The voice hissed, making Ron sit up at lightning speed. It was real. At least, he thought it was. He looked around the walls, looking for holes, or cracks. There was nothing, except where the stones met.
“Where’s the hole, then?” He asked the voice, knowing that this small hope would crush him later. Hope, he’d learned, wasn’t a good thing.
“Near the floor. Left, err, right side of your cell. Near the back, I think.” The voice answered, stuttering over the answer, as though having to work it out. Ron crawled away from his bed, peering at the wall near the floor, getting closer, and closer to the corner across from his bed. He was just about to give up, and declare it an illusion, when he saw it. A small, black speck, not even a centimeter wide. He leaned down, and peered into it, keeping his face far enough back, his eye couldn’t get stabbed with a finger, or ambushed by a bug. Spiders liked to live in holes that size. He shuddered, and scooted farther back. It was too dark to see the other side of the hole.
“Find it?” The voice was closer, definitely coming from the hole. Ron sighed with relief that it wasn’t a spider’s home, and lay down, right in front of the hole.
“Yeah, I did.” He answered in a low voice. He didn’t want to be heard, didn’t want the hole to be filled in, or be moved to another cell. He finally had someone to talk to. Given that it didn’t turn out to be his own mind playing tricks on him.
“Good. Now what’s your name?”
“Ron.” He answered, staring at the hole as though it would magically produce his new acquaintance. It was a new tiny light in his dark world. Something real, something substantial that couldn’t be taken away from him.
“Weasley?” The voice sounded surprised, more than questioning. Ron thought it sounded familiar, but couldn’t place it. It was too quiet, too rough from Merlin-knows-how-long of being silent.
“Yeah. Who’re you?” He asked, suddenly curious. This person knew him. Was it a friend?
“I’d rather not say.” The voice sounded hesitant. Ron frowned at the hole. Was it an enemy? It couldn’t be, they only locked up the good guys, not their own.
“Why? Do I hate you?” He asked, feeling a familiar humor enter his tone. When was the last time he’d joked? He couldn’t remember.
“Everyone hates me.” The voice was filled with sadness, and self-loathing, and Ron felt his heart twinge with pity. It was the voice of someone just as worn-down as him.
“Fair enough. What should I call you then?” Ron asked, wanting a name to put to the voice.
“I don’t care. Call me whatever you like.” The voice answered, sounding touchy, and distressed. Ron thought for a minute, trying to figure out who it was. It was a strange thing, being so curious after so long being dormant, and empty. He didn’t know who it could be, he supposed there were several people who must hate themselves, and be hated by others. Many people probably wanted to change their names.
“Then I won’t call you anything.” He said, with mock disdain. “If you want a new name, fine, but I’m not doing the work for you. Pick it yourself.”
“Ha Ha.” The voice said with feigned humor. “Very funny, Weasley.” It really was a familiar voice, but whose? Ron thought it sounded almost comforting, the first real voice he’d heard in ages. And someone he knew, even if he didn’t know who, exactly. It was rather nice, he thought.
“So, Whoever, why’d you dig a hole here? Why not to the hallway? Or out the back?” Ron asked, trying to provoke the voice into talking more.
“It was already here. I just kept going with it, really.” The voice answered. Ron nodded to himself.
“Are you going to make it bigger, or try a different wall, now you know this one’s a dead end?” He asked.
“I don’t know yet. It’s not really anymore of a dead end than anywhere else could be. I mean, the cells are back to back, so the only immediate progress would be into the hallway, but if you go that way, you’ll be caught almost instantly. So I’ll probably keep going, until I get somewhere useful. It’ll probably take decades, but I figure, I’ll eventually get out, or die trying.”
Ron laid in silence for a moment, thinking about that. It was true, he couldn’t really escape through the hallway, unless he had a wand. They’d likely snapped his wand. The only real way out, was through other cells, until they reached the outside. And then what? Jump into the ocean? Drowning definitely seemed better than slowly wasting away in here. He moved his hand, and touched the tiny opening, scraping his fingernail across it. It didn’t seem to have any effect. He kept scratching in silence, trying to widen the hole, feeling as though, maybe, if they could break through this one, there really was a chance for escape.
“I’ll help you.” He announced quietly, his finger pausing the seemingly useless act as he spoke. “I don’t want to die in here, either.”
“Thank you.” The voice replied, and he heard the scratching noise from earlier. That madman really was digging his was through the wall with his hands. And it’d actually worked. He now had someone to talk to. He continued the picking, and felt a long-dead hope swell back to life. He was going to get out. Even if they spent their whole life digging, he was going to see the sky again, before he died.
* * *
Malfoy felt his heart clench painfully as Weasly declared himself an asset. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d still be as willing if he knew who was really on this side of the wall. Had he really not figured it out? What a dunce. But still, Weasley’s help would be greatly beneficial.
Malfoy kept scraping at the wall, hoping that by the time he finally got it wide enough to see through, Weasley wouldn’t hate him quite so much. It was a nearly impossible wish, but it was his only chance. He wasn’t sure he had the mental stability left to start a different hole. He’d just have to keep going, even if it meant facing Weasley’s future wrath.
He fell asleep with his hand on the wall, his mind drifting in and out of nightmares. He always had nightmares now. There wasn’t anything good worth dreaming about. Hogwarts would never again be the wonderful place of his childhood, his home would always be tainted. His mother was dead. His friends surely detested him. There was nothing good. Except the hole. Escape, and a hurried death were his only light in his pitch black existence. If he was lucky, perhaps when the hole was big enough, Weasley would kill him, and save him a century of finger-mining through walls. His finger kept twitching, even in his sleep.

A/N: Please drop a review on your way to other fics!
After this initial meeting, there's a lot that's sort of glossed over in the next few chapters, where the characters will think of conversations that have happened between them that haven't been previously mentioned.
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The Hole