3en Have You Ever Been Hated Or Discriminated Against?
Harry
It's after hours, and maybe that's the reason why my heart is pounding so hard. Residual fear that Filch or another teacher will find me and dock points from Gryffindor or give me detention. I tell myself that the reason my palms are sweaty, and I can feel each notch of my wand in my pocket like it's burning me is because I'm wary, on the alert. Constant vigilance, right? But deep in my heart I know why I'm sweating, why my eyes dart around, why I can't seem to breathe normally.
Locked in a labyrinth deep in the castle is one of the very people I wish I could obliviate from my mind and blast from this world with one bright green Avada Kedavra. Draco Malfoy : Case #341. My mind lists off the stats of the case as I make my way through the castle that was once home to both of us. Jenkin family, six children, one aunt, two parents and two grandparents. A total of 11 suspected torturings and murders. If found guilty, Malfoy will spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, suffering along with the rest of his disgusting "pureblood" kind. It's really too bad that the Dementors have been obliterated entirely for their betrayal in the War, a nice Dementor's kiss would have put him in his place.
Hermione, always the peace maker, tried to douse my anger before coming to the castle through carefully planned arguments. Things like the five years Draco already spent in Azkaban for his unwilling interaction on the Dark Side were her arguments. To me though, she could talk til she had used every word in every language and I wouldn't give up my belief. Five years is not enough for the pain Malfoy, the Death Eaters, and purebloods all around created. Five years is not enough for bringing Death Eaters into Hogwarts. It's not enough to make me pity his "fragile" mental state.
"Patient 292 suffers from hallucinations, bipolar syndrome, substantial ADHD and ADD, and chronic depression. Violence, yelling, self-harm and outward displays of evil beliefs, i.e. long monologues on how "wrong" things are, cutting himself and writing on the walls in his blood, screaming and chanting gibberish about the Dark Lord and the death eaters." Malfoy's doctor from St. Mungos had read to me from the file. He had said it all, all the things wrong and horrible about Malfoy, with little emotion, as if he could care less about the patient under his care. I can't blame him, if I was a St. Mungos healer, I would have sent the bastard away, had him put back in Azkaban.
"Be careful, Potter. I've been watching him for months, he's broken three strong witches and wizards. He gets into your head, finds what hurts you and uses it, all without Legilimens. He's insane, and I know you don't think he can hurt you. He can't, physically..." The Head Guard over Malfoy told me after informing of all the security measures being taken to protect me from the ferret. She was a small woman, no more than thirty years old. Her face was icy, stone-ish, but my Auror senses itched as she lovingly spoke about Malfoy. She almost caressed the words, every time she said his name she sat up a little bit straighter and bit her lip a little, as if the very idea of him aroused her. I made a mental note to watch her carefully.
I've been warned, prepared, prompted, informed. There isn't anything I'm not prepared for anymore. I know what's happening in his mind, in his body. I know what to do to keep myself safe, and what lengths are being taken to keep me safe. I know the restrictions he's under. This job will be easy, and I'll go home with that shiny Head Auror badge pinned to my robes soon enough.
Stopping outside the huge iron door I sighed and pressed my ID card to the lock. A green light scanned over my hand and the badge. The door swung open with a creak. Frequent entrance and exit through the door was unlikely as to the amount of dust around the door. The employees, the staff, the guards that went into the labryinth didn't come out for awhile and most likely left just as crazy as Malfoy.
Hallway after hallway, many doors, many doors that didn't open. It was a maze like in the Triwizard Tournament but worse because there wasn't a rigged Triwizard Cup waiting but an insane Draco Malfoy. Finally I came to another huge iron door with the letters D.L.M, Malfoy's initials. I knew what was behind that door, and it didn't make me feel any better about going in there. But I wanted that higher status, I wanted the Jenkin's to avenged, and I wanted Malfoy to get his punishment. No matter the costs.
The suite was huge, staircases heading off into different areas, a huge fireplace roaring, sofas, tables. It looked like a jumbo-sized common room. It was obvious that Malfoy was being well-taken care of, the suite was bigger than my apartment times two. Scattered around the room were people dressed in padded suits, helmets on and wands held in place on wrists by braces. They were doing normal things like playing cards, watching the telly, drinking coffee and talking. It was like they weren't even concerned about watching Malfoy, who wasn't in the room.
Drapings in slytherin green, couches in black and silver leather. The rug on the floor had an intricate, beautiful Slytherin symbol. Why did they allow the blatant bias? Was it to keep him calm, to please him? I stepped into the room fully and the door slammed behind me soundly. I glanced back and saw a huge padlock slide closed around the door knob. I gulped, and turned around to find all the guards staring straight at me. "Hello. I'm -"
"Harry Potter. Ha, he's going to tear you into pieces." The woman who cut me off was tall, and skinny despite her extensive padding, with glistening blonde hair. She looked like she could be Veela, or half-Veela but she didn't have a French accent or even an English one. She sounded American.
"Tranquila, Winona. Poor boy's an Auror, that's bad enough of a job already. I'm Alejandro Vasquez, nice to meet you." I shooked Alejandro's hand and ignored the jab at the Ministry. Since the war the Ministry's had a lot of critiscm and jokes around it. It hasn't been taken seriously, especially the Aurors. Their disregard for me and the Ministry was surprising, though.
"Nice to meet you. And you are the guards?" I asked, gesturing to the rest of the room, who of which had returned to their own activities, except for Winona and Alejandro.
"Si, we are the guards of Senor Malfoy." I knew enough spanish to understand the few words Alejandro threw into his speech. He was a tall man, at least a head taller than me, and I had to look up to him which annoyed me.
"Where is he?"
"Taking his daily bath, Potter. Did the Whore not give you a list of his schedule? It's very organized, and specific, it can't be changed." Winona snapped, when I opened my mouth to ask who the "Whore" was. Alejandro shoved her hard enough to send her off balance.
"Excuse Winona, she's American and a bit, um, how you say, bitchy?" He smirked at Winona's disgruntled face before turning back to me. "I must go fetch Senor Malfoy for you, Winona will give you the schedule." I watched him leave up one of the staircases, presumably to the bathroom of Malfoy's containment. Winona glared at me before walking away at a quick pace.
"Follow, Chosen One." She sneered the old nickname at me. I wanted to hex her but I knew as well as she did that no magic could be preformed in the containment except for Stupify to subdue Malfoy. Nothing that could harm her.
"Why do you hate me so much?" I asked when we emerged into a kind of kitchen alcove. She grabbed a piece of paper off the wall and a pen. As soon as the words were out of my mouth she spun around with her wand out and pointed straight at my chest. I didn't move, a Stupefy to the heart could kill me.
"Heather Sinclaire. Remember the name?" I shook my head slowly. The name wasn't ringing any bells in my mind.
"She was my sister, lived in Britain with her boyfriend. He went to Hogwarts, Slytherin, was a pureblood. My sister was a half-blood, like me. She was shot down by someone on the Light side, for no reason." She pulled her wand away, her hand shaking. Her tough facade had dropped.
"There must have been a reason, was she -"
"She wasn't a Death Eater, she wasn't pureblood, she was neutral, unlike her boyfriend. She was killed by a Light side. Just because she hung out with someone from the other side. She lost her life because of your people. You know what happened to the people in between the sides, to the neutrals? To the ones who didn't have an openly declared war with Voldemort? They were killed, murdered, by your side because they could be evil." She slapped the piece of paper against the table. "Now shut up and listen."
"He does what he wants mostly. Sleeps, doesn't sleep. Eats, doesn't eat, we don't care. He does that stuff whenever he wants. His baths, his therapies, his medications, his visitations, are all scheduled. He has his bath at midnight, every night. His therapy with McGonagall is from 11 am to 1 pm. His meds are given, sometimes force-fed, at 3 pm every day, the anti-psychotics every four hours. Visiting hours are from 8 am to 9 am. At midnight every night, the guards leave, except for two and the two rotate every night."
"When am I supposed to meet with him?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, interrogation time, time where I can question him on the Jenkins?" I questioned watching the confusion on her face blossom into understanding.
"McGonagall didn't tell you did she? Oops."
"What didn't McGonagall tell me!"
"You're stuck here, Potter. Until you're done with this ridiculous case, you don't leave. Malfoy's prison is your prison." She laughed, right in my face, and I saw red.
"WHAT!"
"Welcome to my world, Potter." The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I turned. Glowing in the dim light, his small frame shaking from the cold of the room, Draco Malfoy was as horribly gorgeous as I remembered. He was still tall, skinny as a twig, pale and hair that shined like gossamer. My heart gave an unsteady beat and I wanted to leave. To leave before he poisoned me with his presence, again.