Author's Notes: In the year that Harry and his class graduated from Hogwarts, the war came to it's conclusion. Voldemort won. Now, six years later, Harry is in jail, and a new prisoner is brought in. A prisoner who is very familiar to Harry...and who could help change the balance of power in England.

Warnings: This is set in an alternate future where many characters have changed to someone you may not immediately recognise. This story is also SLASH fanfiction.

Disclaimer: The ones who are mine (in the prologue, anyway) are Claw, Gary, and various unnamed prison guards. Anyone who you recognise isn't mine.

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The chains clanked around my wrists as I was marched down a long corridor by two guards. They halted me as we reached a door and opened it, and I was shoved through roughly. I almost stumbled; I hadn't slept well for the past few days, but it was only to be expected. One of the guards roughly searched me again. I couldn't protest, despite the fact that I had already been searched thoroughly several times, and that I now wore the plain grey uniform that that they had given me, bereft of any place to hide anything.

Another door, and across a large, square yard, enclosed by high walls that didn't seem to give any shelter from the bitterly cold winter winds. In the brief glance I was afforded of the yard, I could see lines painted on the walls and on the cement ground.

Then the two guards pushed me through yet another door, which was loudly shut behind me. My chains were removed, and I was pulled along; I didn't see where I was going, the shock of it all was too much for me just then. Finally they stopped me.

"This is your cell," one of the guards told me brusquely. "Number three- three-six, and don't you forget it. You're free to move around the main building after seven in the morning and before ten at night. Your cell will be locked at night, and if you aren't in it when the guard comes around it's worth a day in isolation. You can only have extra things in your cell after a month, and then they have to be cleared with a guard. Is that understood?"

I lifted my eyes from my feet to look at the stocky guard, and nodded mutely. Oh yes, I understood.

"You forgot to tell him about the procedures for letters and visitors, Officer McKinley," came a lazy, self-confident voice from behind me. I froze. Even after six years, I would know that voice anywhere - although I hadn't heard the man speak in that particular tone ever before. I saw the guards' eyes widen almost in fear, and slowly I turned around. I was greeted with the sight of a dozen or so men clad in the same grey uniform as me. They were all watching me with curious stares - except one of them.

This man stood at the front of the group. Everything about him screamed that he was the leader of the men behind him, so even if I hadn't known his face as well as I know my hand, I would have known that he was the one who had spoken. His green eyes glittered almost malevolently underneath unruly black hair and a jagged scar that was famous the world over.

The green-eyed man's lip curled. "Draco Malfoy," he drawled. "So you're the new three-three-six. Well. Welcome to Talsgate prison." His eyes flicked to the two guards, who narrowed their eyes at him, but opened my cell and left in the direction they had come from. I looked back at Harry Potter, and opened my mouth. Whatever I had been about to say, and I wasn't sure of that myself, I was cut off by one of the men behind Harry sniggering.

I grimaced as the man stepped forward, moving leisurely towards me. I easily recognised my old classmate, despite the long scar that now ran across his face. On my first night in prison, I complained silently, the last person I wanted to see was Blaise Zabini. Or perhaps Harry was at the top of that list.

"So you finally slipped up enough to land in Talsgate," Zabini mocked. I winced; I really didn't want to think about my 'crime'. "What d'you do to get in, Malfoy - lose all your money?" I didn't answer. Zabini wasn't worth it.

Apparently Harry agreed with me. "Zabini," he said softly, his voice cutting through the cloud of rage that hung around Zabini. "I believe I told you last week that I didn't want to hear you again for a month." I started; did Harry have that much control over the men in here? "By my count you still have four weeks left," he continued, then looked at a large man just on his right. "Gary?"

"Four weeks, fifteen hours, Harry," corrected the man, whose name was obviously Gary. "And it would be a pleasure to remind two-eight-nine of that."

Zabini snarled, but slinked away towards the metal stairs at the end of one of the rows of cells. Gary watched until Zabini had disappeared to the other side of the row. Harry, meanwhile, watched me until I shifted uncomfortably under his stare. It made me feel as though he knew all about me and more. I didn't like that anybody could make me feel that way - what I hated was that I had the feeling that Harry really *did* know all about me. If my years at Hogwarts had taught me anything, it was that with Harry, anything was possible.

"Claw," Harry said suddenly, startling me out of my musings. "Take three- three-six under your wing for a day or so. Don't forget that curfew's in five minutes." A tall, lean man with three scars across his face stepped forward, a strange glint in his eyes. I unconsciously shivered; I was glad that I wasn't on his bad side.

Harry glanced around the prison; all around we were being watched by prisoners. In the two levels above us, men gazed down through the metal fencing. Obviously Harry really was the leader here, I realised, of the whole prison, not just of the small group in front of me.

"Welcome again, three-three-six," Harry said eventually, and turned to leave with the others. I let out the breath I hadn't been aware I was holding, and turned away, towards my cell.

"And hello to you too, Potter," I muttered carelessly. Before I knew what had happened, I had been pinned against the cell bars by Claw. The prison was resounding with outcry against me, and I blinked in confusion. Of course. I could have hit myself. With the whole prison evidently under Harry's control, I would have to watch what I said.

"You *will* address him as Harry," Claw hissed, his face so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my face. "And you will *not* be so flippant with regards to him again, do you understand me?" I didn't have a chance to answer; my eyes flicked over Claw's shoulder to see another guard standing there.

"Hey! One-four-seven! Let the new prisoner go," the guard ordered. Claw let me go, but he was reluctant. "Come on, you lot," the guard continued. "Three minutes." The noise in the prison died down as men returned to their cells. Claw stormed off to a stairway and disappeared to the third level. Soon only Harry, the guard and I remained standing in the 'alleyway' between two rows of cells.

The guard look first at me, then at Harry, then he sighed. "Two minutes," he warned. "I'm started on row A." He left the 'alley' we were in. After a moment I could hear the clang of metal cell doors closing.

Harry was watching me again, his eyes hooded, unreadable. That had changed about him. I remember when we were at Hogwarts together his every emotion could be seen through his eyes. Now I couldn't even tell if he was angry or annoyed to see me again. Finally a small smile curved his mouth, although his eyes stayed the same.

"Don't mind them," he said quietly. "They're rather protective of me." He moved closer, until I could have reached out and touched him. I didn't though. "But I'd listen to them if I were you, Draco," he continued, stressing my name as though it were a privilege that I should be called that. "Things around here can get unpleasant if you don't." He raised one eyebrow. His scar was twisted slightly on his forehead. "How long are you in here for?"

"Twenty - twenty years," I managed. I really, really didn't want to think about having to spend twenty years in here, and I knew that there was no chance I'd be let out early for good behaviour - even if my behaviour counted as good, Lord Voldemort would never let me out. Not after what I'd done.

Harry nodded slowly. "I'm cell one-oh-two," he told me then. "That's row B, third level, on Godric alley." He grimaced. "Alley A," he corrected himself. "Come by tomorrow morning, after cell opening, and we'll lay out the 'mates rules for you." He turned towards the end of the row, then looked back. "Good night, Draco."

He sauntered off, and I stepped inside my cell. I was confused, tired, and I wished I was anywhere but here. I didn't take the time to look around my new home; I fell onto the bed and was asleep within minutes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * To be continued.