~Albus~

It's going to be all right. It's going to be all right. It's going to be all right.

As the aurors bustled us back through the halls of ministry, that phrase kept repeating in my head. With every new repetition, I was finding it harder and harder to believe. But I wasn't sure what else to focus on, what else might keep me from having a meltdown right here, in the middle of the hall.

I could barely see Colette through the sea of aurors surrounding us. There must have been at least a dozen, which seemed like overkill, especially considering we didn't have our wands. Maybe they were trying to make some sort of statement, though I couldn't tell if it was a statement to us, or anyone who might see us. I still didn't recognize any of them.

Colette, from what I could tell from the back of her head, was as stoic as she always was, if not more so. I imagined she had the same glare she'd had in Russey's office, but that was probably it—no other emotion, no sign of distress or fear. Try as I might, I couldn't seem to pull that off. Personally, I was having a hard time staying upright and keeping my eyes from tearing up. This couldn't be real.

Instead of apparating, we were taken out the street entrance of the ministry, through a little red telephone box. They had to take us one at time, squeezed in with two aurors. I met Colette's eyes briefly, as she went up. I don't know what I was hoping for, maybe a smile or something encouraging. She was completely unreadable.

As the telephone box came back down, the auror next to me shoved me forward, so that I nearly fell into it. I'd hardly managed to get my balance before I was being bustled inside, and taking one last look at the ministry lobby as the box ascended into darkness.

It was fully dark outside, I realized, in the few moments after I'd stepped out of the box. Before I even had time to glance around and see if there was anyone nearby, I was being shoved forward, into the back of an unmarked black van. I barely caught sight of the two steel benches running down the sides before the doors had slammed closed behind me and I was plunged into darkness again.

I froze. There were sounds of people yelling things outside, casting spells, though I couldn't make most of it out. A few doors slamming, from the front of the car, I think, then someone slapping the side.

"Albus?"

It was Colette. I breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn't separated us yet, at least. "Yeah, it's me. Is anyone else in here?"

"I don't think so," she said. I reached out towards her voice, feeling for the bench, and managed to catch her hand. "Might want to sit down," she said, as I felt the rumble of the van starting up. I slid onto the bench next to her as it jerked forward.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the outline of the bench across from us. As we started driving, closer to a streetlight, I suppose, I realized there must have been a vent in the ceiling, as a little light filtered in for a moment, enough to catch a glimpse of Colette, of the empty back of the van, of the heavy, locked doors at the end.

"Any idea where they're taking us?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. A detention center, yes, but maybe some weren't as bad as the one Teddy had been in? Maybe this one was really just a sort of holding cell?

At the very least, maybe it wasn't the one that Ferdinand Welling was in charge of.

It took a moment for her to answer. I couldn't see her face very well in the inconsistent light, so I couldn't tell what she was thinking. Not that I'd have been able to anyways, probably. "I have an idea, yes."

"There's more than one detention center, isn't there?"

"I think there's four or five," she said. "All around the country."

"So, if we're driving, then it's likely the closest one?"

"Likely."

"And... is that one bad?"

"They're all bad, Albus."

"Well, yes, obviously..." I shook my head. "But, like... this wouldn't be the one that... I mean, the person in charge wouldn't be—?"

"I think it is," she said, cutting me off. We pulled to a stop for a moment, in a spot with a little more light. I could see her leaning forward and blinking, hear the deep breath. "I think he's there."

"Oh." I thought about patting her arm, but decided against it. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of anything comforting to say. Or, more accurately, none of the things I could think of were true.

Without warning, Colette turned to me and grabbed my arm. She leaned forward, peering into my face, hers inches away from it. "Albus, you have to promise me, whatever they do to us, you won't give in."

I blinked at her, caught off guard. The van started forward again, and we passed out of the light, but she was close enough that I could still see her eyes. "I... I won't. I know."

"Promise." Her grip on my arm grew a little tighter. "I don't know what they want, but I do know that they'll probably do some horrible things to get it. You have to promise."

"I promise," I said, feeling more alarmed now than I had this whole time. She seemed almost frantic, which was somehow scarier than the rest of this experience combined. "I won't give in."

"Whatever they might do to me, you won't do anything they want you to."

I squinted a little, trying to see her face well in the near-darkness. She was still staring at me, searching my face, it felt like. Very serious. "I won't. I promise."

Colette let out a small sigh of relief, then backed off a little, turning back to face forward. I pursed my lips, wondering exactly how bad she was expecting this to be. If... if she thought they might hurt her to get me to do something... "Colette, they want something from you, don't they? You can't do what they want, no matter what it is. Whatever they threaten you, or me. Whatever they do."

She stared at me for a moment, long enough for us to pass in and out of another light. She nodded. "Right. I won't. I promise."

Now I did reach out to pat her arm, and she didn't pull away. In fact, she shifted a little to take my hand, to my surprise. I took a breath, and found it shakier than I'd expected. "Is it bad that I'm scared?" 

"No," Colette whispered. She squeezed my hand, then let it go, staring into the dimness ahead. "I'm scared, too."

"It's going to be all right," I said, before I realized I was saying it out loud.

I could feel more than see Colette glancing at me. I almost expected her to tell me to be reasonable, realistic. But she didn't. "Yeah, it'll be all right," she agreed, finally. "This'll end. Everything does."

"And we're not going to break."

"No," she said, "we're not." She hesitated for a moment, and when she spoke again, I thought her voice wavered a little. "We've got each other, at least. So it'll be okay. Just don't let them know you're scared."

It's going to be all right. Don't let them know you're scared.

~~~~

The drive seemed to last forever, but when we finally seemed to come to a true stop, Colette said it hadn't been long enough to take us anywhere far outside of London, unless they'd used some kind of magic. Neither of us mentioned what that meant, who might be waiting for us at this detention center.

There was more yelling outside, doors slamming and the sounds of people moving about. I resisted the urge to cling to Colette's arm, though I really wanted to. I didn't think she would appreciate me acting like a scared little kid and ruining her fearless image. Maybe it would be useful to try to give them the impression that I wasn't scared, too. At the very least, my dignity was still worth something, right?

The doors finally opened, and the back of the van was flooded with light. Before my eyes could adjust, people were pulling us out, and we were being pushed and prodded into a building. I caught a glimpse of plain, gray stones and metal doors before we were inside, doors slamming behind us.

The long staircase we were prodded down, as well as the hallway afterwards, was so blindingly white that I had to squint to see. The half dozen people surrounding us weren't dressed like aurors, which made sense. The detention centers had never been open to my dad, or Mr. Macmillan, or any aurors I knew. They were under a totally different branch of the government.

We'd passed a few metal doors, twisting further into the center. Other than the doors, everything looked exactly the same. There were no markings on the hallways branching off to our left or right. The guards simply knew where to go. Personally, I had already lost track of how we'd come in.

I realized I'd been staring around at everything, and as far as I could tell, Colette hadn't been. She was in front of me, just far enough to be out of reach if I'd dared try. Head held high, she marched along with the guards as if she'd asked them to escort her. I couldn't imagine where she got the confidence. I couldn't let them know I was scared, though, she'd said. I pursed my lips, trying to channel any bravery I might have (honestly, I wasn't sure there was anything left) and stood up a little straighter, determined to at least not let her down.

We wound and wound through hallway after hallway, down several more flights of steps and up a few, as well. I was beginning to think that perhaps the only torture in the detention centers was an endless maze of boredom, when we were shoved through a door, into what seemed to be an interrogation room.

There was a table, with a chair on either side, though only one was unoccupied. Colette was pushed down into it, while two of the guards pulled me to a corner. I hardly noticed them; my attention was fully on the man in the chair across from us, shrouded in shadows until he leaned forward, into the light. I managed to stifle a gasp, though I wasn't really surprised. It was Welling.

"Hello, Miss St. Pierre," he said, in that cruel manner that he'd used in office the last time I'd seen him. "I had a feeling we'd get to see you here soon for further correction."

Colette flinched, which might have been scarier than Welling himself. Within a moment, though, she was simply glaring at him again. "Whatever you want, I'm not doing it."

"I think you might reconsider that stance before long," he said. There was absolutely no feeling behind his eyes. Just cruelty. I shivered in spite of myself, even though he wasn't paying any attention to me.

Before anyone could say anything else, Welling snapped his fingers, and one of the guards stepped forward to hand him two wands. Our wands. I bit my lip. Perhaps he was going to lock them up in front of us, show us that there wasn't any hope of escape?

Welling placed Colette's on the table, as if trying to tempt her to lunge for it. I could see her eyes darting from him to the wand, calculating whether it would be worth it. To my relief, she seemed to decide against it. Welling chuckled. "I see you learned a little from me, then. Perhaps you'll learn more this time. Perhaps you'll even get this back, in time."

He held up my wand now, studying it. "However, I'm afraid you won't have any more need of this, Mr. Potter," he said, glancing at me for the first time. I barely managed to keep myself from cowering under his gaze, in all of the three seconds he was looking at me. Then he glanced back at my wand, and with no warning, he snapped it in half.

I couldn't help gasping. I know it's kind of stupid, but it almost felt as if he'd snapped my arm in half. It was just a piece of wood, but I'd always thought of my wand as almost an extension of myself. And now it was broken in half, pieces being carelessly tossed to the floor. I blinked, eyes suddenly watery, and Welling sneered at me.

He quickly turned his attention back to Colette, though, as if I was hardly worth his time. "Now, let's discuss why you're here."

"I'm not doing anything for you," Colette snapped, turning her glare from the broken pieces of my wand to his face. Then she told him to do something obscene (that I probably would've had to give her detention for, if we'd been back at school).

Welling raised an unamused eyebrow, as if she'd spit at him and missed. Then he glanced at the guard next to me. The next thing I knew, I'd been shoved to the ground with such force that I could hear my head hitting the floor. Though I tried to bite it down, I think I might have yelled or something. Colette was staring at me in concern, now being held down in her chair, when I managed to blink up at her.

"What was that again, Miss St. Pierre?" Welling asked, standing up and leaning over the table, towering over her.

Colette stared at me for a moment longer, and I tried to muster an encouraging smile as I pushed myself to a sitting position (whether I managed it or not, who's to say?). Then, she took a deep breath and glanced back up at him, emotion disappearing in the instant her head was moving. Calmly, she repeated exactly what she'd said before, ending it with a "sir" as if she'd just wished him a good day.

I braced myself for some other assault, but none came to me. Welling studied Colette for several long seconds, the tension drawing out so much that I found myself having a hard time breathing.

Then, he slapped Colette with the back of his hand, so hard that she fell out of her chair. She gasped in pain, though I couldn't tell if it was just front the slap, or from hitting the floor so hard. Before she could sit up, though, Welling had stepped around the table and towards the door. "Take them to their cells," he said, giving us both a disdainful look. "And prepare the chamber for tomorrow."

And he was gone. I met Colette's eyes through the chair legs before the guards pulled us to our feet. Though her face was red, and likely stinging, she didn't seem to notice it. She was frowning concernedly at me, silently asking if I was all right. I nodded a little, though of course I wasn't. None of this was all right.

More hallways, each as stark and bright as the last, until we finally were pushed through another doorway and into a different sort of hallway, this one lined with cell bars on each side. They bustled us down, quickly enough that I could barely get a glimpse of the other prisoners. Most of them seemed to be asleep, anyway, so I guess it didn't matter.

They stopped at the end of the hallway, opening doors on the two furthest cells, across from each other. Colette was shoved into one, and me into the other. A clang of the doors slamming closed, then the guards marched back the way they'd come.

I sat down on the floor almost immediately, suddenly overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. Colette stood, still as a statue, just inside her cell door. I watched her, trying my hardest not to start crying; if she was going to be this strong, surely I could, too.

But the far door slammed closed, and she wilted. My eyes widened as she slowly sank down to the floor, breathing heavily and blinking quickly, shaking a little as if trying to suppress sobs. "Colette?"

She shook her head immediately. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to be fine," I started. "This is all—"

"I know," she said, cutting me off. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning back against the wall behind her, then shook her head again. "I... I'm sorry. You shouldn't be here. They clearly want something from me, and they're just using you as leverage, and I don't—"

"It's all right, Colette," I said, biting my lip. I really wanted to cry, but I'd never seen Colette so close to breaking down. Somehow, seeing her like that made it a little easier to sit up, shake my head, talk without my voice breaking. "It's going to be all right."

"Right." Colette nodded, watching me with an expression I'd never seen on her before. Fear? Not just that, but I couldn't tell what else. Something missing, it felt like. Fear and the absence of hope. It shook me to the core, though I tried not to show it.

I shook my head. "Listen, whatever they do to me, you can't do what they want. Okay?"

She hesitated for a moment, but ended up nodding. "Okay. Yes. I won't."

"I'm serious," I said, leaning forward against the bars. "I can take it, all right? I'd die before seeing you give in."

For a moment, Colette stared at me, as if trying to figure out if I meant that or not. "I won't give in."

"Promise," I insisted. "Whatever they threaten, whether I hear it or not, you won't do it."

"I promise," she said, voice hallow. She did nod, though, and met my eyes again. There seemed to be a spark in them again.

"Good." I let out a sigh of relief without meaning to. "Thanks." I didn't want to think about what I'd just made her promise, what I'd just agreed to. What might they do? I supposed it didn't matter. What I'd said was true, that I'd die before seeing her give in. But I did have to wonder if there were worse things than dying.

"We've got to be strong," Colette said, cutting into my thoughts. She seemed to have recovered a little of her confidence from before, lost a bit of the vulnerability. "We will be."

"Of course," I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt, considering I felt zero confidence at all. I swallowed. "What... what do you think the chamber is?"

She shook her head and let out a mirthless laugh. "No idea. Some sort of torture room, I'm sure. Probably best not to worry about it until tomorrow. Anticipation is its own form of torture, after all."

I glanced at my watch; it was nearly one in the morning. "Right."

"We should try to sleep," she suggested, giving me a tight-lipped smile.

"Maybe this'll all be a bad dream?"

"Maybe," she said, nodding instead of telling me that was ridiculous.

There was a bench against the far wall of each cell. I curled up on mine, trying to fit under the slightly-too-small blanket that had been on it. A skylight sat in the ceiling, far above me, a shaft that seemed to go up forever. I could barely get a glimpse of the sliver of the moon. I fell asleep staring at it, wondering if I'd ever be able to really see the sky again.

~~~~

So, am I definitely on some government watchlist because of all the research I did on psychological warfare, intimidation tactics, and the CIA for the detention centers? Probably. Was it worth it? I guess you'll have to let me know how scary this detention center sounds as the story goes on...

Question of the Day: Who would you be most angry at me for killing off?

Answer: I would be angry at myself for killing off anyone if it didn't conclude their character arc in a satisfying way. So, um, if that gives you any comfort, cool?

Vote and comment!

~Elli

Word count: 3095