a/n:

I ended up working on this far longer than I should have today, given the stacks of homework I have yet to do, but I really didn't want my updates to become irregular. So yay! Finished product! =D

I want to thank all of you for the sweet reviews you left, and continue to leave. They really stick with me, and keep me on task when it comes to deadlines. That, and they make me feel all fuzzy when I read them!

And for those of you that don't review, I love you just the same for showing up and taking a peek at whatever nonsense I've managed to fit into 2500 words that week! ;)

Hope you're all well.

~ You Know Who (no, not Voldemort. And not J. K. Rowling, to who anything you recognize belongs)


"Azkaban? With Malfoy? But … but what for?"

"For yourself," Dumbledore said. "This is Lucius' last scheduled visit before he is due to get the Kiss. If I am not mistaken, you have been stripped of your chance to tell him your views on his actions many times."

"Yes, but I don't want to tell Lucius Malfoy my views on him, or on his actions," I asserted.

"You underestimate the value of closure, Miss Zabini."

Any discernable way out of this was slowly disappearing. I knew that no matter my argument, Dumbledore would find a way to refute it. Still, I tried.

"But isn't it a little invasive? I mean, it is Malfoy's last chance to see his father. I'm quite probably the last person he'd want to have around."

Dumbledore considered this.

"You know, I have learned that sometimes it's necessary to invade; so long as you do it with respect."

This made no more sense than anything he usually said, and I could do nothing else but sit and try to decipher the meaning of these cryptic words.

"There is also the matter of safety – Draco's, not yours."

"What do you mean?"

"The Ministry are not such great fans of the Malfoys like they once were. With the Dementors so thirsty, it would not be surprising if the Ministry worker accompanying Draco turned a rather blind eye if something should happen," he explained solemnly. "However, if someone else were with him, I can guarantee that he would not be quite so negligent."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Oh, I know old Frank Kerrigan quite well – he's a good friend of Mundungus Fletcher's, actually. Wonderful Gobstones player, but a little lacking in common moral decency. You see, he has a certain habit of picking and choosing who to save more than he ought to, as Mister Malfoy learned last time."

But before I could ask for specifics, the office door slid open to let Malfoy in.

"Ah, there you are, Draco. Good evening."

Malfoy gave a miniscule nod and, once again, took a chair beside me. How many more times would we be called together behind the headmaster's desk to do something completely mental?

"I apologize for taking so long to contemplate your request to visit your father. It was not a matter of if, but of how."

Malfoy said nothing.

"You are cleared to go tomorrow, as you had hoped."

"What's the catch? You said there would be one."

"I like to think of it as less of a catch, and more of a condition," said Dumbledore. "And that condition is that Heidi must come with you."

I waited for the eruption, silently hoping Malfoy would scream enough threats to put an end to this god-awful idea. Maybe this would finally be the day his mouth got me out of trouble instead of into it.

"Alright."

I turned straight to him. It was the first time we had made eye contact for at least five days, and that included the few times he was in class. 'Alright?' I mouthed. If I looked anything like how I felt, then I did not look good.

"Wonderful," said Dumbledore. "You have learned how to cast a full-bodied Patronus, correct, Heidi?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Everyone in Dumbledore's Army learned how to do it."

The headmaster looked visibly touched. "Forgive me. I shall never get used to hearing that name, or cease feeling humbled by it, I must admit. I am so very proud of you all."

The statement made it infinitely harder to do what I wanted to: explain to him that under no circumstances, dead, alive, or possessed, would I ever go to Azkaban with Draco Malfoy ever.

"So we're allowed wands?" I asked, feeling somewhat relieved by this - albeit tiny - silver lining.

"No." It was Malfoy that said it. "Not in the visiting chamber. Only in the tunnels."

"What tunnels?"

"They take you underground so that you don't have to go past the prisoners. Zabini, you didn't think you could just walk through the front doors and say hello to society's finest did you?" he demanded, his voice full of condescension.

I shrugged, feeling a little bit ashamed. I had always assumed that was how it worked - mostly because life never forced me to know otherwise. The only prisoner I had ever mingled with had been one of the best men I knew, and a role model in my own ongoing rebellion against familial expectations. I had forgotten that Sirius' fellow inmates were people I was better off not walking past, or looking at, or knowing about.

Malfoy was looking like he very much wanted to trade me in for someone useful. But his sneering lips were firmly shut.

"Heidi, would you mind casting a Patronus?" asked Dumbledore, breaking through the silence.

"A Patronus? Right now?"

Dumbledore nodded.

I glanced uneasily at Malfoy, who quirked an eyebrow at me, clearly unconvinced. Well, I'd bloody show him! I cleared my throat and raised my wand.

"Perhaps aim it away from Mister Malfoy," said Dumbledore.

I blushed and moved my wand away from the direction of Malfoy's chest and to an unoccupied corner of the room. "Sorry," I mumbled. "Habit, I guess…"

I shut my eyes and visualized the day I got sorted into Gryffindor.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A silver stream shot from my wand and rearranged itself into its corporeal form, which I hoped would disappear before anyone saw what it was. No such luck.

Dumbledore laughed heartily. "How marvelous! I should have known! A penguin!"

"Well don't I feel safe now," said Malfoy bitterly. "An obese bird that can't even fly."

"Patronuses don't need to fly, Malfoy," I chided.

"They need to do something other than waddle."

"Well what does yours do, then? Run away from the Dementors to fight the nearest First year instead?" I snapped.

It felt right to squabble with him again after days of radio silence - like normality had been somehow reestablished. But it hadn't. As quickly as I had caught a glimpse of his old self, he went back to being unaffected by the provocations that once would have worked brilliantly.

That was how much he needed to say his goodbyes to his father.

Feeling somewhat ashamed of my obtuse childishness, I shut my mouth and sat back down.

"Very well, children. We have reached a consensus. You will meet tomorrow before sunrise to ride a carriage to Hogsmeade Station. The Hogwarts Express will be waiting there to take you to London, where you will travel to the Ministry by car. As I have already told Heidi, the man you are meeting is called Mr. Kerrigan. I believe you have already met him, Draco. He will be supervising you the entire time in Azkaban once more, as is customary with the Ministry."

"Should I write to my parents to let them know where I'll be?" I asked.

"The moment you say yes, I'll send an owl myself," said Dumbledore.

"And … if I say no?"

I looked at Malfoy out of the corner of my eye. He was staring tensely at the floor.

"Then I will have to cancel all arrangements for both of you."

I exhaled a weary breath. "No, don't do that; I'll go."

D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D&D

Dawn came prematurely, I was sure. Someone who despised me must have had the sunrise rigged.

I tugged on a scuffed pair of boots, dull-looking jeans and a jumper, and made my way out to the dungeons, careful not to wake one of the girls. When I saw Malfoy, I knew immediately I had made a grave mistake in interpreting the dress code. He was clad for a funeral as always, but everything on him was immaculate, creaseless … perfect. He wore a thick black travelling cloak and gloves of dragon leather, and his hair, which was usually free to fall on his face, was smoothed carefully away. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought him a force to be reckoned with.

"Should I go change?" I asked uncertainly.

"There isn't time."

"But you're all … fancy," I remarked.

"Out of respect for my father. Are you interested in paying him your respect?" he asked pointedly.

"Guess not," I mumbled.

"I didn't think so. So let's go."

I followed him out the doors, where a lone carriage was waiting for us. I muttered a hello at the Thestral guiding it. I had only been able to see them for a few months, and although they were in many ways hideous, I acknowledged them whenever I could. After all, there's nothing worse than being used but ignored.

"Who were you talking to? Just then?" demanded Malfoy as he climbed into the carriage after me.

I blinked at him. "The Thest…ral… Wait, you still can't see them?"

He scoffed. "What, you think you're better than me just because you can see some stupid death horse? Don't make me laugh."

"You're right, Malfoy. How silly of me to think that death is in the job description."

He glared and adjusted his cloak. I was starting to regret not bringing one myself. As the carriage pulled away, a silence came over us that was as bitter and brittle as the chill in the air. Multiple times, I opened my mouth to say something he'd have cursed me for – like if the girls were enjoying his 'cool new tat' – but the way he was staring at the carriage floor convinced me he was contemplating something bigger than him, or me, or any petty thing I could say. So I kept quiet.

I hoped I was being discreet as I took him in, because looking away wasn't an option. I'd never seen him like this. He wasn't plotting; plotting made him smirk and boast with childish glee. No, he was planning, the way I'd seen my parents, or the Order, or Dumbledore do. Gone were the traces of childhood from his face. And gone was my self-assurance.

"Could I ask you something?" My voice sounded much smaller than usual.

"No."

"Alright," I said, wilting back in my seat somewhat.

He took me in with obvious aggravation and, against his usual judgment, asked me what I wanted.

"Oh, I was just wondering if there was a screen separating the visiting room. Or a window. Or, you know, some metal bars."

"No, it's an open room. Why?"

"So um … so he could reach out and … touch us? Theoretically?"

Malfoy must have realized what this was really about, because he let out a sharp breath. "Drop it, Zabini. No one's going to touch you."

"Oh." I let another stretch of silence trickle by. "And the Dementors, do they float around freely?"

"Only in some-"

"Which parts?"

"The cages, Zabini."

"Oh." Another silence. "And what are the ca-"

"Zabini, enough!" He cursed under his breath. "What are you, scared all of a sudden? No more Gryffindor lectures about bravery being the best protection? Scared of the Dementors, are you?"

I huddled into myself. "No," I muttered. "Not of the Dementors."

We rode the train in different compartments, in an unspoken agreement to deal with this alone. As the scenery outside became a blur of autumn hues, I felt my lids go heavy; worrying had worn me out. But the slumber I fell into wasn't peaceful.

"Never expected to be seeing you here, little Heidi Zabini."

I scrambled backwards, the glass of destroyed prophecies crunching under my feet. My wand was stuck under a shelf meters out of reach.

"Well, it looks like you'll be missing dinner at the Manor this month. A shame, really. But I'll give Narcissa your best."

"P-please," I croaked, in a voice that seemed nothing like my own. "M-my parents. They don't know I'm h-here. Mister Malfoy, please!"

His white face contorted into a sneer, rendered colder by the blue light of the room. Somewhere near me someone squirmed on the floor, but I didn't know if it was one of us or one of them.

"Your parents?" Lucius said quietly. "But you should have thought of your parents much sooner, instead of following Potter to whatever childish heroics he had planned."

He jerked his wand and it felt like something dull and hard hit my forehead, causing it to gash above my brow. I yelped in pain, my heart threating to split just like my forehead had. I had never been this afraid. All I could do was beg, until my whimpered and repeated 'pleases' had lost all meaning. And when they did, Lucius Malfoy began to raise his wand once more, and mutter the words that would end it.

"Avada-"

"Come on, Zabini! Just get up!"

The voice, foreign though it was, had given me a brilliant idea. Up! All I had to do was get up! But as I tried, my body swung annoyingly back and forth, like the hands of some deity were rattling me awake.

"Stop it!" I yelled to no one. "I have to get up!"

I grabbed frenetically at the air above me, and when my hands had trapped what felt like a face, I opened my eyes to find that God was Draco Malfoy.

It took a moment for my brain to recouple with my body, and while I waited to gain control of my hands, they remained firmly around Malfoy's anxious face. Grabbing him must have caused him to lose his balance, for he was halfway on top of me, with one hand on the window for balance, and a knee in between my legs. In my delirium, I was relieved to find myself with him - another human - whose eyes were much less hardened than the ones in my nightmares, despite the blood ties that they shared.

"Alright, Zabini?" he asked warily, gently separating his face from my cold, sweaty hands.

I tried to laugh it off as nothing. "I – I don't usually – it's just because of today. I'm not like … like some kid with night terrors, or something."

He nodded dubiously.

"Really, Malfoy!"

Malfoy raised his hands. "Fine, Zabini, whatever. I don't really care either way. I'm just here to tell you we're at King's Cross."

"Oh."

I realized that the train was no longer moving, and that a packed station platform was visible out the window. I slipped out of the compartment, with Malfoy ahead of me.

"Malfoy, wait!" I called as he made his way off the train. I chewed on my lip, wondering how to voice the problems brewing inside. "I – I don't know how I'll act today. In front of him."

At least if I told him, it was fair warning.

I expected Malfoy to sneer and declare that his father was worth at least ten thousand of me, and that if I didn't act like it, I'd be rife with regret. Instead, he looked down at me, silently taking me in. I must have looked so idiotically weak, with my hair plastered to my forehead from the sweat of my nightmare, and my teeth chattering from my inability to dress for the weather.

"Act how you want, Zabini," he concluded with a shrug, before gesturing for me to keep up.

To anyone who didn't know the nature of a Malfoy, those words would have meant nothing. But I knew him. And those words had made whatever awful things that lay ahead of us today that much less awful.