Set after the end of book five. My feeble attempt to add to the reasons Fudge had to leave office. Not for the kiddies, and all characters belong to JKR and not me.
The sky was an iridescent blue, adorned with cheerful white, fluffy clouds chasing each other in the strong winds like spring lambs. It was getting warmer, he thought – it must be near mid-August by now, and the strong sunlight outside should have improved his mood. Viewing the summer sky through barred windows had the opposite effect, as might be expected, particularly when the scene was not accompanied by birdsong but by the screams of his fellow inmates. He shifted uncomfortably, the chains around his ankles weighing heavily on his already weakened muscles as he tried to stand up and move to the window and out of the filth of the prison cell floor. Reaching up, he could touch the bars of the tiny window and reach out a slim, dirt-encrusted hand to the sunlight beyond.
Lucius Malfoy smiled instinctively; despite everything, the warmth of the sun's rays on his naked flesh could still cheer him. He had long since lost count of how many days he had been imprisoned in Azkaban, aware only that it must have been at least two months, because it was now high summer. Attacking at the ministry had been the mistake – failure had delivered him straight into the hands of his enemies. It would have been far better to apprehend the Potter boy once he had retrieved the prophecy, outside the ministry. Perhaps they could have fooled him into bringing the prophecy somewhere more auspicious – Diagon Alley maybe? Lucius sighed hopelessly. The failure of the plan was irrelevant now – if he escaped, the Dark Lord was sure to punish him for his inadequacy and if he stayed the Dementors would get him eventually.
A rustling outside the cell attracted Lucius' attention. A guard (a human guard, corrected Lucius as he watched the man draw closer) was approaching, carrying a letter. He threw it wordlessly through the bars and Lucius scrabbled for it greedily, desperate for news from the outside world. Two months away from his manor, his wife, his son… The letter was from Narcissa, and was painfully brief. By the looks of it, it had also been opened, read and its contents checked by the Azkaban guards.
Darling Lucius
The hearing this morning did not find in your favour my love. Dumbledore dragged Potter to the trial to give evidence and the jury took less than an hour to decide on your sentence – I'm sure the guards have already told you. I will not rest until you have been released – I need you here.
I have news of Draco – he has an important year at Hogwarts this year. I wish I could tell you how important. He will have help from an old friend at least.
I miss you. I love you.
Narcissa.
Lucius raised a hand to his eyes to wipe the unbidden tears. Draco had an important year ahead – Narcissa need not tell him that, so had Voldemort made plans for Draco? Who would be helping him – not Bella, surely? He felt his blood run cold – he hadn't wanted Draco to be any part of this, the boy was too young. Lucius knew that if Draco was involved with the Death Eaters, it was at Voldemort's personal request and was most likely part of Voldemort's revenge against Lucius for his own failure. What if Draco were to fail? How angry would Voldemort be with him? Would he punish Draco?
"Of course he would," spat Lucius, covering his eyes with his hand and allowing bitter tears to fall. "I'm sorry Draco, I'm so sorry…"
"I'm sure you are," drawled a gruff voice from the cell door. Lucius' head snapped up and he regarded the speaker critically.
"Moody." Lucius could barely conceal the contempt in his voice.
"You are to come with me," instructed Mad-Eye, holding the door open for Lucius to walk through. The tug from the chains reminded Lucius not to put a foot wrong, not to think about escape. He followed Moody down the corridor, passing other inmates, not daring to look sideways at them lest he meet their accusatory stares. He couldn't avoid listening to their shouts however.
"Fucking useless whore-son!"
"…dropped it! You stupid bastard!"
"You're dead Malfoy!"
"It was never going to work…"
"…wanted to be captured. Traitorous cunt!"
"Through here, Mr Malfoy," said Moody, gesturing through an open door to a white room beyond, where Cornelius Fudge was waiting.
"Thank you," replied Lucius with his customary sneer, sweeping majestically past Moody into the – blissfully quiet – room. The white room was bare apart from a table and two chairs. "What is it you want to know?" asked Lucius, taking a seat and well aware of how this was supposed to play out – Fudge would play good cop, Moody was bad cop, and somewhere in the middle Malfoy was to break-down and confess everything he knew.
"Will there be anything else sir?" asked Moody, locking the door to the cells and crossing to a second door on the far wall.
"No, leave this to me Mad-Eye. We don't need two of us here," replied Fudge.
"He's a crafty bugger, mind," warned Moody.
"I'm aware of his tricks, and I feel that the Minister of Magic is more than a match for a grubby, wandless, feeble-minded fop like Mr Malfoy."
"I'm sitting right here," stated Lucius.
"Thank you for your concern, Mad-Eye."
"Right you are, Fudge." Moody grunted and used his wand to unlock the exit door and left, casting a concerned look back at first Fudge and then Malfoy before he did so.
"Now then, let us make a start…" said Fudge, putting on his glasses and reading through the papers in front of him. "You have been found guilty of conspiring with He Who Shall Not Be Named for the second time…"
"The Imperius Curse, quite unpleasant, I assure you."
"Yes, we heard that excuse at the hearing yesterday. I'm afraid we're not accepting it this time Lucius." Fudge threw Lucius a cold smile, revelling in the man's discomfort.
"So what do you want?"
"Information about You Know Who."
"No."
"Did you believe your co-operation was optional?" asked Fudge quietly, drawing his wand. "Imperio!"
"No…" protested Lucius, shaking his head to clear the warm, calming syrupy magic from it. "Do you really think you have the skill to cast an Unforgivable Curse on me, Fudge?"
"No – but it is proof that you have some experience in resisting it."
"Any wizard can…"
"Twice? Imperio!"
"No…"
"Tell me their names!"
"Who?"
"The Death Eaters!"
"Names…"
"Yes!"
"No names. I don't know any."
"Liar!"
"If the ministry ever finds out what you're doing, Fudge…"
"Imperio! Names, Malfoy – now!"
"Bellatrix Lestrange, Evan Rosier, Alecto Carrow, Fenrir Greyback…"
"He's dead – died years ago!" snapped Fudge, his quill scribbling frantically to keep up with Lucius' list.
"No, still alive. Yaxley… Damn you Fudge!"
"Complete the list!"
"No!" Lucius pushed away from the table and stood up, then quickly backed away from the now red-faced and fuming Minister of Magic.
"Crucio!" The curse had left Fudge's wand without much conscious thought. A stream of red magic hit Lucius in the ribs and he buckled over, screaming in agony. Pain coursed through every vein, causing his muscles to tense and add to his distress as his hands involuntarily scrabbled at the floor, looking desperately for purchase. As quickly as it had begun, the pain subsided and Lucius Malfoy was left panting for breath on the floor of the interrogation cell. Fudge crouched next to him and grabbed a handful of long blonde hair, yanking it upwards to bring Lucius's head in line with his own. "Give me their names, Malfoy!"
"No names…" Fudge let go of Lucius' hair and stood up.
"Crucio!"
"No!" screeched Lucius, through the pain. Every muscle ached, every vein was filled with fire, please make it stop, please…
"Names?"
"No, no please…"
"Crucio!"
"Oh god!" Lucius felt his resolve crumble as exquisite agony racked his weakened body.
"Tell me why Draco has such an important year coming up."
"Draco? I don't know."
"Tell me!"
"I don't know – I don't know!" shrieked Lucius, tears forming in his eyes.
"Perhaps I should bring Draco in for questioning…"
"No – god no – not Draco!"
"Then tell me why he needs help from an old friend."
"Homework?" suggested Lucius with a hopeless grin. "He's never been good at handing it in on time." He laughed painfully, waiting for the inevitable cruciatus curse.
"You think this is funny, Malfoy?"
"No – no I don't."
"Really?" Fudge laughed and Lucius looked up at him, worried now. "Maybe Narcissa will find it less amusing than you do." Fudge crossed to the door and opened it with a flick of his wand, allowing a dementor to enter dragging a woman in a green dress. She was bleeding, barely conscious, her blonde hair matted with dirt – his wife, after god knows what had happened to her…
"Narcissa – no! Fudge, you bastard!" Lucius was off the floor in a second, quickly running towards Fudge soon after and pummelling his fists into Fudge's body, his head, anywhere he could reach. "Let her go!"
"Just as soon as one of you tells me what's going on with little Draco. Get him off me, would you?" The dementor dropped Narcissa and rounded on Lucius Malfoy, lifting him by his throat and pinning him against the wall.
"Oh god, no…" mumbled Lucius.
"What is Draco going to do this year?"
"I don't know – please, please Fudge – I don't know."
"Should I ask Narcissa instead?"
"Let her go – I'm the Death Eater, not her – let her go – please! I love her, please, let her go! Do what you want to me, but let her go!"
"How pathetic."
"I don't know – perhaps the Dark Lord has forced Draco to take my place – how could I possibly know what is happening when I'm trapped in here?"
"I'm sure you have your ways. Where is he? Where is the Dark Lord?"
"I don't know," sobbed Lucius, trying to get a look at Narcissa. She wasn't moving…
"Crucio!" shrieked Fudge. There are worse places to be when under the torture of the cruciatus curse, but not many are much worse than being suspended by a dementor by your neck against the wall of the interrogation room in Azkaban. Lucius screamed and convulsed, all the while terrified of getting too close to the thing that held him airborne.
"Please! Let her go – I'll tell you anything!"
"Where is the Dark Lord?"
"I don't know!" screamed Lucius.
"What had Draco got planned?"
"I don't know!"
"Finish him," whispered Fudge. Lucius looked up into the haggard, rotting almost-face of the dementor as it drew closer, scented its foul breath, and desperately tried to press into the wall to avoid its kiss. The dementor inhaled and raised its other hand against Lucius' chest, steadying him against the wall as it lowered its head, the ice from its touch and presence chilling his body as he felt the last of his hope, joy and dreams leave him...
"Expecto patronum!" shouted a gruff voice from the door. Blinding silver-white light pushed the dementor back from Lucius, who dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap immediately. As Lucius watched, the patronus – a ram – backed the dementor into a corner under that ferocious glare of its conjurer, Mad-Eye Moody. Moody rounded into the room away from the door and allowed his patronus to chase the dementor from the room before sealing the door.
"What the hell are you doing?" asked Moody.
"He wasn't being cooperative," mumbled Fudge, himself backing down into a corner. Moody bent down next to the body of Narcissa Malfoy and gently stroked back her hair. She turned over unexpectedly and snarled at him, her face a mix of sinews and greying flesh.
"Urrgh, a boggart…" muttered Moody. "I should have known. Ridikulus!" The boggart changed into harmless vase of daffodils, the vase bearing a picture of a clown. Lucius smiled a little at that – the pun on his wife's name being enough to weaken the boggart (that, or it had reasoned that crossing Moody would not be wise). Moody picked up the vase, opened the door and threw it at the waiting dementor, who caught it in surprise just as the door was shut for the final time. "Get up, Fudge."
"What are you going to do?" asked Fudge, pale-faced, reaching for his wand.
"Expelliarmus! Malfoy, don't even think about picking it up."
"Damn," cursed Fudge.
"First I'm going to take your wand, then I'm going to take Malfoy back to his cell. Finally, the two of us are taking a little trip to the ministry." True to his word, Moody scooped up Fudge's wand and dragged Lucius off the floor by his arm, forcing him out into the corridor of cells and frog-marching him back to the isolated cell at the end of the passageway. Even the other Death Eaters were silent – Lucius' screams must have echoed down here, and of course Moody was responsible for many of them being imprisoned there.
"Thank you," said Lucius quietly on arrival at his cell.
"Really, don't mention it."
"My family – are they alive?"
"Yes."
"Thank you." Lucius sat down quietly on the prison bed, trembling from his ordeal, and came to a snap decision. No-one else, as far as he knew, was aware of the letter from Narcissa – if he could keep it that way, they stood a chance of being left alone by the aurors. But how to know if Moody knew? "Moody – a moment of your time."
"No," said Moody, already turning to leave.
"Please look after my son – he's nothing to do with this. He's his mother's son – a good boy."
"Then he has more sense than his father," snapped Moody, slamming the door behind him and stalking away. As he reached the end of the hall, some of the braver Death Eaters dared to start jeering at him, though when he turned and glared at them they soon silenced themselves. Lucius smiled quietly to himself – so Moody didn't know. There was hope for his family yet. Despite the dementor's best efforts and his own aching body, Lucius Malfoy felt that, for the first time in weeks, there was some hope.