Halloween had come and gone (With the chaos, and the Great Hall feast, and Draco entirely too distracted by watching Neville see how much of a fool he could be. Did he actually try to faceplant into the soup? Was that intentional? Draco was pretty sure it was.), and now the time turned to All Souls' Day.

Draco Malfoy's mother had come to Hogwarts. He had stood with Professor Snape until she had reached the dungeon corridor where his room was. With a graceful bow, he thanked Professor Snape, and his mother greeted her friend with a smile. "I hope he hasn't been too much trouble?" She said with a toss of her head. Professor Snape's dark eyes rested on Malfoy a moment too long, and then he smiled without showing any teeth. "No, I daresay that hasn't been a problem of late." Draco Malfoy wanted to whip his head around, to see what possible expression Snape had on his face for that comment. Instead, he rounded himself beside Narcissa slowly and gracefully, losing the glimpse of Snape's expression to preserve his dignity.

"I imagine it's been rough, what with losing the Potter boy and all." Narcissa Malfoy wore a bland smile, and Snape simply nodded, "The Gryffindors are taking it hardest, of course." Snape then gave a languid shrug, "I have high hopes for Slytherin winning the Cup this year. As reckless as that boy could be, he somehow always found the snitch." Draco Malfoy fought to keep his eyes from going wide. Snape never called Potter anything other than his last name (occasionally with a Mister attached, when Snape was in an especially vindictive - that is to say good- mood).

"We'll be taking our leave now. Expect us back before dusk." Narcissa said with a demure curtsey - careful not to dip too low.

"As always, it was a pleasure." Snape said with a ghost of a smile. "Take care, and gods speed to you both." Draco Malfoy bowed deeply to his head of House, before strolling along behind his mother.

Truth be told, he didn't want to go. He never wanted to go. He envied Neville in a way - his parents were well-cared for (Draco Malfoy had seen them once, when his father had donated enough to the hospital to be afforded a tour of all the wards. They seemed, gone, for lack of a better word. Dimwitted, lost.). Not so, his mother's kin.

Narcissa used the floo in the Slytherin Common Room - a few people looked up, but most hid their gaze. Everyone knew where they were going, and few wanted to think about it at all.

In moments, they both stood in a seaside port, up at the north of Scotland near the Hebrides. Draco Malfoy hid his shiver, as Narcissa Malfoy bustled him onto a thin skiff. Ice, he thought, as he conjured the walls around his heart. I will go and I will return, so must it be. Grim certainty was the only thing that had ever held him together through this. His mother passed the boatmen a passel of gold, and they began to row, singing a shanty that echoed with grimness out into the ocean blue.

"Oh, have you heard the news, me Johnny
One more day
We're homeward bound tomorrow
One more day
Only one more day, me Johnny
One more day
Oh, rock and roll me over
One more day"

But today, Draco Malfoy thought, his eyes resting on the horizon - with that grim certainty warding his heart - expecting the fortress to rise out of the sea, we sail for Azkaban. And a grimmer and more desolate place there's never been.

Slowly, as the men rowed and sang gay tunes, the fortress reared above the water, from top to bottom. Draco did not question, merely endured. There was only one way through Azkaban sane, and that was to be resolute, robust, obdurate. Students at Hogwarts (not Slytherins) saw him afters, and they often wondered what had put him in such a ... cold mood. But it wasn't cold, exactly. Merely the refusal to be affected in any way.

[a/n: Yearly visits. To see his family's shame, with the Aurors gloating all the whiles.]