(no subject)
Jan. 28th, 2012 07:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Cellmates
Rating: PG-13ish for being kinda dark
Word count: 1, 150
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vincentursus, who wanted to see The Joker criticizing (or critiquing) a Death Eater.
Lucius Malfoy walked behind the Dementor, as far away as he could get and still be following it. The feeling of numb helplessness that had held him in its grip since his capture at the Ministry was much, much worse since entering Azkaban half an hour earlier. Horror and despair were quickly joining it as he walked by cell after cell of wizards. Some screamed or keened, awful moaning noises that Lucius knew he would never forget. Others were silent, huddled on their bunks or staring out at him with red, hollow eyes, which was somehow even worse than the ones crying out.
The Dementor had halted, and when Lucius reached it, it unlocked the cell in front of them and gestured him in with a bony finger. Lucius went, shuddering, careful not to brush against its cloak.
The door closed behind him with a creak and a clang, and Lucius took in the cell. Two bunks, one with a still figure on it. Lucius couldn’t make out anything about him in the gloom. A toilet, with no seat. A dirty sink. Lucius went to the empty bunk and shoved the box with the few things he’d been allowed to bring under it. He sank down on the bunk slowly, back straight, even though it repulsed him to touch the bedclothes, which were dingy and rough.
“Lucius Malfoy,” came a voice, and Lucius looked towards the sound. His cellmate was awake now – if he had ever been asleep – and lounged on his bunk, looking unsettlingly comfortable on the hard mattress.
He was young; not yet thirty-five, if Lucius was any judge. His greasy, unkempt hair was curly and slightly green, and he had masses of scar tissue on his cheeks, extending from the corners of his lips like the parody of a smile. It was disturbing, but there was something about the man’s eyes – which had deep, dark circles and an even darker glint – that was still more disturbing. Meeting his gaze was like looking into the Dark Lord’s eyes. Perhaps worse, but Lucius couldn’t say why. He felt a chill run down his spine.
“Lucius Malfoy,” his cellmate repeated, musingly. “I’ve read about you.” His voice was nasal, his tone mocking. He was also American, Lucius noted with additional distaste.
“The guards bring me newspapers,” the man said, sitting up and leaning in conspiratorially. “They’re good guys.” Lucius blanched. This man had made friends with the Dementors?
“Who are you?” he asked, voice hoarse.
“Back home, they call me the Joker. Funny, isn’t it?” He was totally deadpan, and Lucius sat back a little, unsure how to respond.
“Why are you here?” he asked finally, not sure, as he asked it, that he wanted to know the answer.
“They caught me trying to sneak into – what’s that little neighborhood you people are so proud of? oh – Diagon Alley. You wizarding types sure are snooty. And territorial.”
Lucius frowned. “You’re not a wizard?”
“Nuh. It’s too silly. Waving wands, riding around on brooms – ridiculous.”
Lucius would have bristled if he wasn’t so depressed and increasingly frightened. He wondered if this Joker was an untrained wizard – which, if he was, made him potentially still more dangerous.
“They don’t throw people into Azkaban for trying to get into Diagon Alley,” he said.
“They do if you shot someone and stole their wand to do it.”
“Shot?” It took Lucius a moment to realize what he meant – obviously injury or death was implied, not liquor. The Joker pointed his index finger at Lucius, thumb up.
“Bang,” he said, and Lucius nodded, remembering reading long ago about how Muggles killed each other with metal sticks that shot more metal, noisily and at enormous speeds. The heathens.
“Why did you – ”
“I was bored,” the Joker cut in. “Anyway, listen. I have a bone to pick with you.”
Lucius tried not to let his fear show on his face. “What?”
“Oh, not with you personally. Don’t worry.” Obviously Lucius was not remaining as outwardly stoic as he would like – or, this Joker was a natural Legilimens. It seemed quite possible.
“It’s all of you. Your little group.” The Joker wiggled his fingers vaguely at him. “The – what do you call them – Death Lickers.”
“Death Eaters,” Lucius snapped automatically.
“Right, right, see – that’s just the sort of thing I take issue with.”
“What?” Lucius asked, increasingly annoyed despite his fear.
“I get your name just a little wrong, and you get all snippy. As if it mattered. As if any of it mattered. All the yammering on about pure bloodlines and – ”
“Wizard blood has become more and more tainted over the last fifty years!”
The Joker snorted, and shook his head. “And that’s why you’re doomed to failure.”
Lucius became very still. “What are you talking about?”
“You care. You and the other Death Eaters. Voldemort.” Lucius flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord’s name. “He’s the worst of all, really. He cares. It makes him weak, and that makes all of you weak.”
“The Dark Lord doesn’t care about anyone.”
“Sure he does. He cares about himself. And he cares about killing that Potter kid.”
“Everyone cares about themselves.”
The Joker grinned then, and Lucius fought the urge to recoil. “I don’t.”
Lucius thought it would be best not to debate the point.
“Anyway, he cares, so he’s going to lose.”
“Are you suggesting the other side doesn’t care?”
“No, but there are more of them.”
“Among the Death Eaters are some of the oldest and most powerful wizarding families – ”
“Exactly. Some of them. And you’re all inbred and crazy thanks to your ‘ideals.’” The Joker’s air quotes set Lucius’ teeth on edge. He wanted to argue, but the thought of Bellatrix Lestrange stopped him, and the Joker was still talking, anyway, and leaning towards him in an unnerving way.
“Tell me honestly,” he said, eyes never leaving Lucius’ face. “Do you really still believe in all that shit? I mean, just look at where it’s gotten you.”
Lucius had. He had never, never imagined that following the Dark Lord would land him in Azkaban. Such an idea was unthinkable. Or, rather, it had been. Sometime after his arrest – during the trial, or the scandal – in some small, secret part of him, his unshakeable faith had cracked. He hadn’t even been aware of it until now.
Instead of replying to the question, he sneered at the Joker, the familiar expression soothing.
“So you’re on their side, then? The Mudblood-lovers? Did they offer you a reduced sentence if you could turn a Death Eater into a traitor?”
The Joker stared back at him for a moment, black eyes glittering. A small smile appeared on his lips.
“I’m not on anyone’s side,” he said. He lay down again and turned his back. The sneer slid from Lucius’ face, leaving him feeling frightened and hollow again.
The crack widened.
Rating: PG-13ish for being kinda dark
Word count: 1, 150
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: For
vincentursus, who wanted to see The Joker criticizing (or critiquing) a Death Eater.Lucius Malfoy walked behind the Dementor, as far away as he could get and still be following it. The feeling of numb helplessness that had held him in its grip since his capture at the Ministry was much, much worse since entering Azkaban half an hour earlier. Horror and despair were quickly joining it as he walked by cell after cell of wizards. Some screamed or keened, awful moaning noises that Lucius knew he would never forget. Others were silent, huddled on their bunks or staring out at him with red, hollow eyes, which was somehow even worse than the ones crying out.
The Dementor had halted, and when Lucius reached it, it unlocked the cell in front of them and gestured him in with a bony finger. Lucius went, shuddering, careful not to brush against its cloak.
The door closed behind him with a creak and a clang, and Lucius took in the cell. Two bunks, one with a still figure on it. Lucius couldn’t make out anything about him in the gloom. A toilet, with no seat. A dirty sink. Lucius went to the empty bunk and shoved the box with the few things he’d been allowed to bring under it. He sank down on the bunk slowly, back straight, even though it repulsed him to touch the bedclothes, which were dingy and rough.
“Lucius Malfoy,” came a voice, and Lucius looked towards the sound. His cellmate was awake now – if he had ever been asleep – and lounged on his bunk, looking unsettlingly comfortable on the hard mattress.
He was young; not yet thirty-five, if Lucius was any judge. His greasy, unkempt hair was curly and slightly green, and he had masses of scar tissue on his cheeks, extending from the corners of his lips like the parody of a smile. It was disturbing, but there was something about the man’s eyes – which had deep, dark circles and an even darker glint – that was still more disturbing. Meeting his gaze was like looking into the Dark Lord’s eyes. Perhaps worse, but Lucius couldn’t say why. He felt a chill run down his spine.
“Lucius Malfoy,” his cellmate repeated, musingly. “I’ve read about you.” His voice was nasal, his tone mocking. He was also American, Lucius noted with additional distaste.
“The guards bring me newspapers,” the man said, sitting up and leaning in conspiratorially. “They’re good guys.” Lucius blanched. This man had made friends with the Dementors?
“Who are you?” he asked, voice hoarse.
“Back home, they call me the Joker. Funny, isn’t it?” He was totally deadpan, and Lucius sat back a little, unsure how to respond.
“Why are you here?” he asked finally, not sure, as he asked it, that he wanted to know the answer.
“They caught me trying to sneak into – what’s that little neighborhood you people are so proud of? oh – Diagon Alley. You wizarding types sure are snooty. And territorial.”
Lucius frowned. “You’re not a wizard?”
“Nuh. It’s too silly. Waving wands, riding around on brooms – ridiculous.”
Lucius would have bristled if he wasn’t so depressed and increasingly frightened. He wondered if this Joker was an untrained wizard – which, if he was, made him potentially still more dangerous.
“They don’t throw people into Azkaban for trying to get into Diagon Alley,” he said.
“They do if you shot someone and stole their wand to do it.”
“Shot?” It took Lucius a moment to realize what he meant – obviously injury or death was implied, not liquor. The Joker pointed his index finger at Lucius, thumb up.
“Bang,” he said, and Lucius nodded, remembering reading long ago about how Muggles killed each other with metal sticks that shot more metal, noisily and at enormous speeds. The heathens.
“Why did you – ”
“I was bored,” the Joker cut in. “Anyway, listen. I have a bone to pick with you.”
Lucius tried not to let his fear show on his face. “What?”
“Oh, not with you personally. Don’t worry.” Obviously Lucius was not remaining as outwardly stoic as he would like – or, this Joker was a natural Legilimens. It seemed quite possible.
“It’s all of you. Your little group.” The Joker wiggled his fingers vaguely at him. “The – what do you call them – Death Lickers.”
“Death Eaters,” Lucius snapped automatically.
“Right, right, see – that’s just the sort of thing I take issue with.”
“What?” Lucius asked, increasingly annoyed despite his fear.
“I get your name just a little wrong, and you get all snippy. As if it mattered. As if any of it mattered. All the yammering on about pure bloodlines and – ”
“Wizard blood has become more and more tainted over the last fifty years!”
The Joker snorted, and shook his head. “And that’s why you’re doomed to failure.”
Lucius became very still. “What are you talking about?”
“You care. You and the other Death Eaters. Voldemort.” Lucius flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord’s name. “He’s the worst of all, really. He cares. It makes him weak, and that makes all of you weak.”
“The Dark Lord doesn’t care about anyone.”
“Sure he does. He cares about himself. And he cares about killing that Potter kid.”
“Everyone cares about themselves.”
The Joker grinned then, and Lucius fought the urge to recoil. “I don’t.”
Lucius thought it would be best not to debate the point.
“Anyway, he cares, so he’s going to lose.”
“Are you suggesting the other side doesn’t care?”
“No, but there are more of them.”
“Among the Death Eaters are some of the oldest and most powerful wizarding families – ”
“Exactly. Some of them. And you’re all inbred and crazy thanks to your ‘ideals.’” The Joker’s air quotes set Lucius’ teeth on edge. He wanted to argue, but the thought of Bellatrix Lestrange stopped him, and the Joker was still talking, anyway, and leaning towards him in an unnerving way.
“Tell me honestly,” he said, eyes never leaving Lucius’ face. “Do you really still believe in all that shit? I mean, just look at where it’s gotten you.”
Lucius had. He had never, never imagined that following the Dark Lord would land him in Azkaban. Such an idea was unthinkable. Or, rather, it had been. Sometime after his arrest – during the trial, or the scandal – in some small, secret part of him, his unshakeable faith had cracked. He hadn’t even been aware of it until now.
Instead of replying to the question, he sneered at the Joker, the familiar expression soothing.
“So you’re on their side, then? The Mudblood-lovers? Did they offer you a reduced sentence if you could turn a Death Eater into a traitor?”
The Joker stared back at him for a moment, black eyes glittering. A small smile appeared on his lips.
“I’m not on anyone’s side,” he said. He lay down again and turned his back. The sneer slid from Lucius’ face, leaving him feeling frightened and hollow again.
The crack widened.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-01-29 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-30 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-30 11:02 am (UTC)You do Heath Ledger's Joker so very well.
And I liked Lucius' reaction.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-30 06:41 pm (UTC)I'm very please you enjoyed this. :) Thanks again for the prompt.