Disclaimer: I don't own this…
36- Hate Breeders
"As you know, Christmas holiday is to start in a week," McGonagall explained to the four students sitting in chairs before her desk; all bundled up and ready for their trip; listening attentively, and in respectful silence. "In the past two months, you men have impressed me with your ability to get along after your debacle, and neither of you have missed class or detention, so I am going to end your nights of detention for behaving so well." The students' faces lit up, which the elder witch expected. She finished,
"And though I am astonished by this request for you all to visit your parents, Draco, I am happy to allow this. Please, do give Narcissa my best."
()()()()()
The four were all excited about the Headmistress' decision, and they would have been even more so, if they had not walked to Hogsmeade only to apparate at the gates of Hell.
The students, all huddling close and standing hand in hand, craned their heads back as they looked up at the tall, stone building that was Azkaban. After arriving, they had meant to break apart from one another, but were unable to once they'd turned to look at the menacing structure; finding comfort in their closeness to each other once the chill of the ocean set in, and the haunting visage reached their eyes.
Even at mid-day, the building looked like a nightmare; to Draco it was. He'd known when they released him that he would have to walk back in to make visits to his parents. However, he'd never thought he'd be standing with his hand in Harry's, who was holding firmly to Hermione's. Draco's hand being in Pansy's had been expected, and the four of them together was making the anxiety in his soul ease just enough to walk through the newly open gate; the stone parting and gaping ominously in the wall as they approached.
The Aurors who stood in the two tall watchtowers on either side of the entrance looked down at them in silence as they passed. The Ministry had needed to open a new branch of the Aurors department, and those Aurors now stood guard at the prison; the Ministry having had to accept nearly any applicant who came to join them after the war. The many losses on the Light side had also played a hand in that. Ron Weasley, though an annoying, offensive git, was surely needed. Draco knew who was being held within the walls, and England needed as many willing Aurors as possible.
They made through the outer wall, via the newly opened "door", and into the hallway. It was dark as they walked the six or seven meters through the near total darkness to the dim light at the end. The blonde knew the room to be the waiting room for visitors and those who wished to pick up a loved one. As luck would have it, this was Azkaban, and the waiting room was poorly attended to; it smelled of mold and rot; every surface- whether it was a chair or a table covered in 100 year old magazines- was covered in dust; water covered the walls, which leaked from unknown sources. There was a sign on the wall that read "Keep Elves Chained at all Times".
Hermione sniffed at the old sign, and walked, with a glare on her face, to the window that was closed behind iron bars. There was a golden bell with a chain hanging beside the secretary's window, and the curly-haired witch rang the bell expectantly. For a moment the four waited in silence, and were very surprised when a young woman, who was smartly dressed with perfectly styled red hair and liberally applied makeup, opened the window with a bright and cheerful smile, saying,
"Good morning! Are you here for visiting?"
The four students both stood still, stunned at the woman behind the window. Draco didn't recognize her from his last trip to Azkaban- he'd only been in and out once- where he'd been assisted by an elderly, gruff Auror who had been none-too pleased with letting him go. That one instance didn't make him an expert on the staff they kept.
While Draco relived his memories, Hermione, ever sharp, responded, "Yes. I'm Hermione Granger, this is Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson. We are here to visit Narcissa Malfoy. Draco will be visiting Lucius Malfoy alone."
Now it was time for the witch behind the window to look shocked, because everyone and their mom knew who Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and the Malfoys were, as well as a great deal of their history together. The witch blinked at them- well, Harry mostly- for a few seconds before she cleared her throat saying with a kind smile,
"I will need to inspect your wands, and I will be keeping them here while you visit. There is a strict "No Magic" policy while on the premises." she looked back to Harry, then Hermione, "You've filled out the Visitor's form and you've been accepted, correct? It was all in the handbook." She then gave Draco an odd glance, but turned her attention quickly back to Harry, then back to Hermione.
Then back to Harry.
"Yes, I read it," Hermione said as kindly as possible, "and we were accepted. Governor Garne sent us our approvals last week." The witch nodded at them slowly, with her plastered smile, and stared for a moment before she recovered once more and said, whilst holding out her hand,
"Your wands please."
The four passed the witch their wands, performed the identity charm to confirm their identities, locked them in a safe behind the desk, and closed the window before leaving the four alone in the never before used waiting room. It felt cold, it felt old, it felt odd... but there were no dementors, so that was good enough. The four sat in almost complete silence for the better part of an hour before the window opened again, standing quickly to return to the counter.
"Governor Garne-"said the witch, "- will be down in just a moment to speak to you all, and lead you to your visit. You're the first visitors the prison has ever had."
The four didn't know what to think of that last fact, considering they were the first to do a lot of things the past few years, so Draco decided to ignore as he inquired, "Is there a problem?"
The secretary shook her head, and said, "No. He would like to make your acquaintance. And, of course, give you a few of the guidelines for your visitation. You four are some of our first visitors here at Azkaban since the policy reformation."
"You mean since the dementors were removed?" Harry answered. The witch gave a shrug, and a nod, and then said, "Garne will be right with you," and then closed the window with a bright smile.
()()()()()
Fynnard Garne was an extremely tall, elderly, harsh-featured man that had been exceedingly stern with Draco as he had escorted the group to the visitation room. Originally, the plan was that their visit would be held in a room with a clear, magical division, but with a few short, charming, though somehow harsh, words from Hermione, Garne had decided they could visit in a room without a barrier; the inmates un-bound, though closely monitored.
With a frown at Draco, and a smile to Harry and Hermione- he ignored Pansy all together- Garne left them alone in the room. It was empty besides an old, dusty stone table and chairs, and two doors. The small space smelled somehow worse than mold, and it was even darker than the waiting room they'd occupied moments ago. Draco thought that the hallway leading to this point was awful, but the visiting room was even worse!
"I can't believe they leave this room like this," Pansy said as she watched Hermione try to wandlessly Scourgify the dirty seats, which did nothing through the magical dampening spell they must have used on the prison. The furniture was filthy, either from laziness, or plain old misuse, no one really knew; or, perhaps, no one knew how clean without magic..?
"I can," Draco answered in disgust before sitting gingerly on the dusty seat. "You should see the cells."
"Don't give me those images, Draco," Hermione said with a repulsed frown. She was sure that it was only the fact that Narcissa was inside of this place that Hermione suddenly wanted to petition for better facilities for prisoners. Well… one prisoner. There were a few people in there she didn't give a shite about whether or not they had amenities.
"Try living in those images," the blonde muttered, attempting, in vain, to still the pounding of his heart; the tapping of his foot. He'd only been there two months, one week, and a day, but it was long enough for him to know he'd never forget it. He'd been put in before all of the dementors had been removed, and even in the middle of the summer, the rooms had been dark, and gloomy, cold, and stale. When they'd all been banished, it felt no less haunted, nor smelled any less like death, decay and an unpleasantly brisk winter's day.
Pansy, noticing the blonde's anxious jitters, had seen Draco not hours after his homecoming, and she became nervous about visiting the Malfoys since they'd gotten the acceptance letter from Governor Garne. Now, she was even more so due to them being in the belly of the beast. She feared his reaction to seeing his father above all things; knowing that seeing Narcissa would be more healing for her best friend and lover; where Lucius was always a detriment to his son.
For quite some time, the four sat in a silence that filled the room with anxious jitters. Eventually, the door in the room through which they had not entered suddenly opened, starting the four into silence as they went still and turned to watch as Narcissa Malfoy entered the room. At least, they thought it was Narcissa…
The self-assured stance of the Malfoy matriarch had since disappeared from the frail form covered in dirty, mangled rags. The woman who entered was hunched slightly, and her wild, matted hair was already beginning to dread; the platinum locks she once sported now brown and dingy. Her hands and bare feet were covered in what looked like soot and earth, and the only thing that could mark her as Draco's mother was the tears that reached her sallow, blue eyes when they landed on her son.
"Draco…" she said, as if the stock- still man was an apparition.
"Hello, mum," Draco replied, before moving forward to hug her.
A/N: I'm just going to say that my punk rock life made it possible for me to spend a few nights in jail. *knocks on wood* Those particular experiences helped me with this chapter, so… I guess it wasn't ALL a TOTAL loss. Any experience is a "good" experience when it comes to writing, right?
(Hate Breeders)
Because you were bred to take it
Next stop annihilation
They bred the hate right in your fuckin' bones