Chapter 10: Azkaban

Teeko returned from the hospital with a letter for Dagmar later in the afternoon. Arne's suggestion was to fill out the form to the best of her ability and mail it to him Monday, as requested. He intended to set up individual meetings with everyone later in the week to go over them. Given that Dagmar had concerns, Arne appreciated the heads up to pay extra attention to hers.

Dagmar set off on the task. Her nerves that putting herself on paper like this might undo all the work she did to get here alternated with a strange calm. It was cathartic to confess all her wrongdoings, and be judged by an impartial party.

It was all more than Dagmar could write in one go. She took a decent break Tuesday to do some shopping in Trollmannsgaten with Draco. He wanted to buy cloaks big enough to fit over his armour. Dagmar dipped into a bookstore as well, so that she could buy all her textbooks for the first term. She hoped that wasn't too presumptuous of a move before meeting with Arne.

The weather cooperated toward something fit for flying after the week's ugly start, so Draco wrote all his new coworkers to see when they might like to get together. Draco came out of the office with a messenger in hand.

"Potter's asking about Azkaban," Draco told Dagmar. "He wants to know if Monday works."

"I don't see why not," Dagmar said after a moment of thought. "The only thing I have to do is send all this off to Arne. I could do it before we leave. What time is he thinking?"

"I'll ask."

Draco nipped back to the office for a quill of his own, and dipped it into Dagmar's ink. After responding to Potter, Draco laid on the couch next to Dagmar. He left the messenger open on the coffee table when an owl returned from one of the other dragonologists. Draco tended to that and had time to fix them both lunch before words had appeared in the messenger.

"Wants to leave early," Draco relayed to Dagmar. "The Auror office opens to the public at eight. He says we have to go there first to be cleared by Kingsley, then it's a three hour long ferry out to Azkaban."

"Oh." Dagmar wrinkled her nose slightly. She already wasn't looking forward to this without six hours worth of travel. "I guess that would work."

"Do you think it's worth spending the night at my manor if we have to be in London that early?" Draco asked as he dashed down a response.

"Mm. . ." Dagmar paused in her own writing. "Would it interfere with our anniversary plans?"

"Doubt it," Draco replied. "Might even fit in nicely. We could go back to where it all began."

Despite her reservations for why they went back to Britain, Dagmar smiled and reached over to squeeze Draco's knee. Dagmar could see the allure of shacking up in Draco's room. A year ago, they had been in Bergen for their week-long holiday. Sunday would mark the day they'd returned to Malfoy Manor, and Draco had asked if they could formalize their courtship.

Draco's coworkers all agreed to a noon takeoff on Friday. He spent the brunt of the morning doing some maintenance on his Firebolt, while Dagmar was finally able to crack the first of her textbooks. With Draco having nothing to do past eleven o'clock to preoccupy himself, Dagmar didn't get a whole lot done either while he bummed around and played with Heimdall. Heimdall skittered around after the light reflected off Draco's watch face.

The fireplace worked, startling Dagmar since she'd lost track of time. A woman no taller than Hermione and with strawberry blonde hair stepped out. She brushed loose hair out of her face, shuffling her Firebolt from one hand to the other so that she could shake Dagmar and Draco's hands.

"Hanna," she introduced herself, smile flickering as she watched Heimdall sprint up the stairs. "Oh, did I scare your cat?"

"He's not big on strangers," Dagmar told her. "Don't take it personally."

When Roar and the girls had visited to help with the garden, Draco had made a joke about Heimdall not knowing the difference between a visitor and a murderer. Draco just smiled in a strained way this time. Hanna didn't have a chance to notice his hesitation before the fireplace lit up emerald again. A stocky man with short, brown hair stepped out. He clapped Draco on the shoulder, although extended a hand to Dagmar to introduce himself as Leo.

"Alex is right behind me," he said in English. Hanna furrowed her brow at the change, but Leo switched back to clumsy Norwegian when a tall blond stepped out of the fireplace. While they all chatted, Dagmar noticed Alex taking interested glances at her spread of textbooks.

"You must be the Dagmar Frida mentioned," he said. "She's my sister."

"Must be." Dagmar chuckled. "She said she had a brother, but not that you were a dragonologist."

The last to arrive was Masha, who reminded Dagmar immediately of Milly in how serious and focused she was. Now that she was there, they could all head off. Their voices carried in from the garden, and quickly tapered off with their departure. Nearly a quarter-hour passed before Heimdall tentatively rejoined Dagmar on the love seat. He purred, eyes closed as she mindlessly pet him while reading.

They all returned mid-afternoon. Draco was just as excited as when he'd come home Monday from the reserve. He ended up offering them all coffee as they chatted out on the top deck. Dagmar hoped she didn't come off as antisocial by not joining them, but she wanted to give Draco a chance to foster what would likely be his primary social circle for many years to come. She enjoyed listening through the open windows to Draco flourish in his new environment.

That endearment followed Dagmar into the weekend, which she and Draco ended up treating like an extended celebration for their first year together. Dagmar found herself checking her jewelry box Sunday morning, while she packed for a night in Britain. The ring she'd lent Draco for sizing had yet to be returned, which disappointed Dagmar. Her finger was starting to feel bare without something on it.

Dagmar kept constant contact with Draco while they took a long walk Sunday afternoon around the back trails, and then had dinner at the Fløyen restaurant. They relaxed for a little while at home before gathering up their bags and apparating down to Den Sultne Jotunn.

Malfoy Manor was silent and unlit when they arrived. Dagmar had a feeling it had yet to be used since deemed headquarters for the Order. Especially considering what they'd come to Britain for in the first place, the lack of life felt heavier than usual.

Even Draco's room had turned impersonal, since it had been stripped of all his belongings. It felt more like a room at an inn than his childhood bedroom. Dagmar's heart squeezed a little by it, and she could see Draco struggling with it as well. She was more than happy to distract Draco by guiding him to the bed.

Draco sighed afterward, seeming to have pulled himself back out of his inscrutable mood. "It's starting to feel familiar again."

Dagmar chuckled. "This room will always be a special place to me."

She could still see ghosts of the initial milestones the two of them passed together. Dagmar's favourite spot in the early days was the chair over by Draco's desk. It was where she'd first learned about their arrangements. That initial crushing doubt had long since been erased.

Dagmar budged up closer as she considered the end of the bed, where she and Draco had sat a year ago that day. "I was so naive about how much a good snog could turn me on."

"I wasn't." Even though he'd been inside Dagmar less than ten minutes ago, Draco's laugh turned airy with embarrassment. "I remember thinking I hoped you hadn't noticed."

"I did," Dagmar admitted. "Sorry."

Draco pressed his face into Dagmar's hair with a quiet groan.

"I don't have to use much imagination to guess what you got up to after I left." Dagmar rubbed his arm. "I did the same thing, if it makes you feel any better."

Dagmar struggled back then with the idea of a man lighting her up like that. It was so common now, that Dagmar acknowledged it when it came on no differently than something like hunger or thirst. It was a basic physical need with a clear method of care.

"So where do you see us in a year from now?" Dagmar asked.

Draco hummed, his touch turning rhythmic. "Honestly, probably not much different than things are right now. I like where we are. Engaged, I hope. Maybe back in contact with my mum and planning how to move toward getting married."

"We'll be engaged so long as you care enough to ask between now and then," Dagmar jested. "Otherwise, I'm quite content too. It's a good life, what we have now."

It wasn't until Dagmar tried to doze off that she recalled another occurrence a year ago that day. She'd gone home, since the Ministry search had concluded. Her mum had said something about rather having to put their home back together than sitting in a cell in Azkaban. Dagmar hated it when she said that then, and it was even less funny now as Dagmar prepared to go visit her there.

Going to sleep on that sentiment robbed Dagmar of any real rest. A rock settled in her stomach when the new day dawned. Draco was equally quiet and distracted as they went about getting ready. Just like the previous Monday, getting up so early was difficult. They had at least been excited about orientation.

Dagmar went through the fireplace first to Diagon Alley. Neither she or Draco had ever used the Ministry's visitor entrance, but Potter had written them instructions on how to navigate the ten minute walk from the Leaky Cauldron.

"Didn't you ever visit the Ministry with your father?" Dagmar asked as she took Draco's hand in the street.

"Not often, but he always apparated." Draco smirked more out of humour than arrogance. "Minister's special allowance and all that. I can't really imagine my father walking out here with all the Muggles."

"Me neither."

The Muggles weren't dirty or sketchy looking in this part of London. The tourists were already out in droves, which Dagmar supposed shouldn't be unusual, seeing as one of the streets they crossed was a straight shot to Buckingham Palace. The weather was nice too. London and Bergen suffered from a similar problem of frequent drizzle, so anything to the contrary didn't go without notice. Dagmar heard frequent mention of it in nearby conversations.

"This must be it," Draco said as they came up to an abandoned, red telephone booth.

Dagmar fixed the identification clip ejected by the phone to her blouse, and leaned against Draco as the booth sunk into the ground. She was just starting to feel claustrophobic when light appeared near their feet. Dagmar rarely visited the Ministry, so her gaze was everywhere as they stepped out into the Atrium. Had she not been looking toward the Magical Brethren statue, she might have missed a wave and call of her name. Dagmar let go of Draco's hand so that she could give Hermione a hug when they met up.

"What're you doing here?" Dagmar asked when she let her go. "I didn't even think you'd be available this morning."

"I start at eight." Beaming, Hermione gave Draco a nod of acknowledgement as he caught up to them. "I thought it'd be a good chance to say hello. I can show you where the Auror office is too, if you like, not that you probably need the help."

"Come anyway," Dagmar invited her. "I wish we could arrange to meet up later, but we have no idea when we'll be back."

Hermione's grin faded. "How're you feeling about the whole thing?"

"Probably about as good as could be expected." Dagmar grimaced and shrugged. "I wanted to try to come into today looking forward to seeing my mum for the first time in nearly a year, but it's not quite working. It's a loaded visit."

"No kidding."

Hermione lingered as Dagmar and Draco registered their wands at the security stand. They carried on toward the lifts. Cool panic washed Dagmar's innards when she met the gaze of someone familiar. Ernie waited for a lift as well. He'd cut his hair short since the end of the school year, and wore a pinstriped suit. In the half-second they looked at each other, Dagmar saw all the colour drain from his face. They hadn't spoken since study hall last forced them to, although Dagmar had heard a whisper in the meantime that Ernie referred to her as a dodged bludger.

Thankfully, he didn't get into the same lift as Dagmar, Draco, and Hermione. They got out at Level Two, and Hermione walked them up to the door that led into the Auror office.

"I'm sorry, I've got to run before I'm late." She took a step back to the lifts. "Send me an owl or something whenever you've got time. I'd love to see each other for longer than this."

"I feel bad I haven't," Dagmar said to Draco as they headed into the Auror office. "I guess everyone's just getting settled in right now, ja?"

Draco nodded. "I haven't talked to Blaise or anyone either. Wouldn't hurt to send him an owl sometime soon, see he's all right and not bored to death yet at the bank."

Dagmar laughed, although it fell flat in the face of so many serious Aurors around them. Some looked up as if suspicious they were there, but returned to their business when Kingsley came out of his office.

"Morning." He passed them by, heading for the exit. "We'll leave straight away. Harry and Kat are already up at the ferry terminal."

They all kept on down along the hallway past more doors, some open but most closed.

"There are two security points," Kingsley told them. "You'll go through one before getting on the ferry. You'll be asked to remove any jewelry and to turn out your pockets, along with your wand. You'll also be temporarily stymied."

"Er. . .what's that?" Draco hesitantly asked.

"New thing the Azkaban admin office came up with." Kingsley turned up the wrist of his right hand and pulled back his robe. He touched a spot a few inches down from the heel of his palm. "A small rod is placed at the head of your magic conduit. Essentially, without your wand, you would be a Squib."

Dagmar's stomach tossed nastily. She didn't like the idea of that at all, even if it was only temporary. "Does it hurt?"

"I've heard it's uncomfortable, but I couldn't say personally. Enforcement officers aren't required to go through the process."

Dagmar exchanged a glance with Draco. He looked about as comfortable as her with it, but what else could they do? They'd come this far. Dagmar didn't feel like she could turn back now. If she did, she wouldn't get this close to visiting Azkaban again.

They turned into a room near the end of the corridor. It was fit with unmarked fireplaces. The one Kingsley gestured them toward was a straight route that required no spoken instruction. Dagmar stepped out when she spotted Potter kicking his feet along in a slow pace, his arms folded. Parasca stood over by the small terminal's windows. The weather was a little more overcast here, and the waters of the North Sea choppy.

Parasca looked over, and Potter stilled. Neither of them had a chance to say anything before Draco appeared next, followed quickly by Kingsley.

"Right." Kingsley gestured to the left. "This way."

The security checkpoint Kingsley had mentioned was just around the corner. Parasca went first, although had come prepared by having nothing in her robe pockets spare her wand. She and Potter both got to keep them. Draco stepped forward next, since Dagmar hesitated. He handed over his wand and the few coins he'd packed as a precaution. Dagmar couldn't see his face as one of the security agents requested he extend his right arm, but he didn't flinch as what looked like a small pin was pushed into his wrist. His middle and ring fingers twitched though, and he rubbed the insertion point afterward. He wore a grimace as he joined where Parasca and Potter waited.

"Come along, then," one of the agents prompted Dagmar.

Her heart pounded as she shakily handed over her wand and Potter's directions for the Ministry entrance. The security agent had to grip Dagmar's hand to steady it. Feeling a little lightheaded, Dagmar looked away as she waited for the puncture. Something went quiet inside of her, like a hush of the mind before sleep. The security agent let go of Dagmar's hand. It didn't hurt, but Dagmar still disliked it greatly. She could feel the pin there if she flexed her hand.

Kingsley waved them off before heading back the way he'd come. A hint of the sea teased Dagmar's nostrils, similar to the salty air back home. Around another corner, they went through a pair of doors, and then they were on a short ramp leading to the ferry. A couple more security agents closed the rear gate behind them.

The ferry jarred into motion as they walked toward the cabin. Inside, there were a couple of booths and transport cells. Parasca and Potter took a seat on one side of the closest booth. Dagmar followed Draco in across from them. The mainland already shrunk in their wake.

"So what's the plan?" Draco asked to break the silence. "Is there one? Will we be alone with our parents? Together or separate?"

"Their cells are in different sections of the prison," Parasca answered. "There isn't a visiting area. It's still a relatively new thing for outsiders to come in. You won't be alone. Harry was going to go with you, Draco, and I'll accompany you, Dagmar."

Draco frowned. "My father won't say anything in front of Potter."

"Kingsley arranged with the gaoler for me to bring my invisibility cloak," Potter replied. "Would your dad believe you if you said your estate advocate pulled some strings and got you in alone?"

"He might."

"Worth a shot, anyway." Potter shrugged.

"Do you speak Norwegian?" Dagmar asked Parasca. "I'm sure my mum will speak that rather than English."

"Someone there will," Parasca said. "They would have already prepared for that possibility before allowing this visit."

"Okay."

The mainland disappeared below the horizon. There wasn't much else to discuss about the visit to come, and conversation was stiff otherwise. Dagmar grew restless. There was only so many times she could take a short walk around the ferry or stand at the edge and look for fish in the dark waters below. The ferry security followed her at a short distance, and they weren't much keen to let Dagmar and Draco talk alone when he came to find her once.

Dagmar resigned to stay in the cabin after that. There was an old set of wizarding chess left for passengers which, even though Dagmar didn't much care for the game, was something to kill the time. She didn't do much in that regard when playing against Potter, since he was good at it. Draco challenged Potter afterward. Dagmar switched him places so they could keep on, while she and Parasca tried out the deck of playing cards.

Parasca ended up dealing Draco and Potter in once their game wrapped up. The games Parasca knew were simple enough that Dagmar didn't feel overworked with her lack of focus today. Potter knew a couple games too, from growing up with Muggles. With the games as a nice distraction from where they all headed toward, Dagmar found it easier to relax. Parasca was more interesting to listen to here than in their old Defence classroom, since she didn't have to worry about staying on a certain topic for the sake of their education. She told them some stories from her Auror days before the topic transitioned to her life in Romania.

Dagmar discarded for her turn. "Do you miss it there at all?"

"Da and nu," she replied, picking up from the deck. "It was an adjustment for sure, coming to Britain. I didn't think I would have such difficulty moving so far away from my parents. I spent a lot of time with them after I retired. On the other hand, being so close to Luca for the year was lovely. We didn't have as much time together as I would've liked before he started at Durmstrang. I worried what would come of me and Luca's relationship when I consulted on that strigoi case—well, the Voldemort case. He stayed with my parents while I was away. I was gone longer than I thought I would be, but I think all it did was make him see my parents as like a second set for himself."

The game had stalled. Draco looked over at Potter. "Your turn."

"Er—right." Potter sat up straighter again before reaching for the deck.

On top of Hermione and Blaise, Dagmar filed it mentally away that she ought to reach out to Luca before he returned to Hogwarts. Because Luca went to Romania on the holidays, Dagmar didn't expect she would have a chance to see him over Christmas or Easter. Even if he stayed in Britain to be with his mum, that didn't mean he wouldn't be too busy.

The sea grew more restless outside, the sky darker. Dagmar started to grow motion sick from the constant rocking. She was almost relieved to see something appear on the horizon while catching some fresh air. A stone building rose up into the sky like an obelisk.

Dagmar almost wondered how the ferry would line up with the dock when the waters were so rough. The security teams working on both sides of it managed. When Dagmar stepped off onto the island's barren, uneven ground, it still felt like it moved underneath her. The light drizzle hit like shards of ice against her cheeks. Dagmar kept her mouth closed tight while going through the last security checkpoint. Seasickness contributed threateningly to her reemerged fear of tossing. Even though the guards cleared Dagmar for entry, they still didn't look completely like they trusted her.

Parasca and Potter waited for Dagmar and Draco. Potter had pulled a familiar silver cloak out from the inside of his jacket. It laid folded over one arm.

The gaoler greeted them then, gesturing them over to his office. He had a few logistics to go over with them. He raised the point that Hildegard was bilingual, and that someone speaking both English and Norwegian would have to accompany Dagmar to the cell. Dagmar was relieved that Parasca said she would still like to go. The gaoler allowed it, so with introduction to that guard and another, they left the office.

The two guards brought them to a stop at a fork.

"We'll be going through here," the one assigned to Dagmar said with a jab of his thumb toward the left gate. "Malfoy's the other way."

"Right." With that, Potter threw his cloak on. The air where he stood wavered for a second before stilling as he disappeared.

Dagmar squeezed Draco's hand. "Good luck."

"You too," Draco unstuck his tongue long enough to say. He'd gone pale, and Dagmar doubted she had anymore colour right now.

Dagmar's legs felt weak as her guard led her and Parasca on. They were admitted to the north wing by two more guards. After traversing a small, cramped hallway, cells appeared. The first prisoners didn't seem to notice Dagmar, but before she'd reached the first flight of stairs, some were standing at their bars and yelling to alert other prisoners that something in their environment had changed. Dagmar's heart thumped in her throat, which did little to help her breathe as they climbed even more stairs. On the fourth floor, Dagmar's veins ran cold when she heard her name coming from one of the cells they passed.

"Daaagmaaar. . ." it repeated in a teasing manner.

The guard ushered Dagmar and Parasca on, since they'd both stopped. "Pay Lestrange no mind."

Dagmar pulled in a little more on herself. She couldn't remember ever meeting Rodolphus Lestrange before. It unsettled her that he knew who she was, even if it wasn't a stretch of the imagination given his acquaintanceship with her parents. Dagmar jumped a little bit when touched on the shoulder, but it was only Parasca. She offered Dagmar a tight smile in attempt to comfort her. Dagmar didn't know if that was possible right now, but she appreciated the effort.

The cold sea air passed through Azkaban unhampered. Dagmar's teeth chattered, and she wished she'd worn a thicker jacket. Her trembling worsened as, after another flight of stairs and traipse down the corridor, the guard came to a stop. He clattered a stick he carried against the bars of a cell.

"Ramstad," he sharply spoke. "Visitor."

Dagmar's mum sat on the bed in the corner of her cell, knees folded in and head leaned against the wall as she looked up and out her small window. Even though there was likely nothing to see in the grey sky, Dagmar's mum seemed hard-pressed to pull her gaze away from it.

Her demeanour changed when she saw Dagmar. A couple rapid blinks seemed to lessen the dullness of her eyes, and she pushed herself to sit up straighter. Dagmar's throat clamped as the guard unlocked the cell door and gestured her in. He closed it behind her.

Dagmar lingered close to it, still uncertain. Her mum's hair had lost its shine and clumped in places. She'd lost some weight, which turned her once healthy face sharp and hollow. There were dark circles around her mum's eyes. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week. Maybe she hadn't.

When her mum crossed the cell, Dagmar had to fight with herself not to try and move away. She was already pretty much in a corner. Dagmar couldn't go any stiffer when her mum wrapped her arms around her. They tightened beyond what her mum looked even capable of in her state. Barely a sniffle preceded a rack of her mum's body. Her sobs were otherwise quiet spare the shudder of her breath.

Eyes stinging, Dagmar returned her mum's hug. She was lucky to be able to, despite where they were or the circumstances that brought them together. Dagmar had waffled with doubt since last summer whether or not she would ever see her mum again. It hadn't seemed likely at all after Dumbledore informed her of her dad's death. The future looked no different. Unless Potter needed her to come back up here and milk more information out of her mum, it was extremely unlikely Dagmar would get another pass to Azkaban.

"Oh, don't cry," her mum whispered in her ear. "You're too beautiful for that, jenta mi."

Dagmar managed a strangled laugh. She let go of her mum to look back outside the cell at the sound of voices, but it was just the second guard translating Dagmar's mum's words to Parasca.

"How did you get to come here?" Dagmar's mum cradled her face so that she could wipe Dagmar's cheeks with her thumbs. "I didn't think anyone but Aurors would be able to. I didn't think you'd want to."

Dagmar shrugged at that sentiment, feeling guilty that it was true. "Mrs. Keene pulled some strings. I don't know that I'll get a second visit, but. . ."

Her mum's face tightened. She rubbed Dagmar's arms. "Well, I'm happy to see you anyway."

"You too."

Her mum gestured at her bed, which looked so decrepit compared to the comfortable life they used to have. "How long are you here for? Do you know?"

"I'm not sure." Dagmar could feel the frame through the mattress when she sat down. The blanket was so thin, it bordered on transparent. "They didn't say."

"Tell me what's going on with you, then," her mum said, slightly breathless. "I was thinking about you when the end of June came. I think about you all the time, actually. Are you still with Draco?"

"Mhm." Dagmar fidgeted a little. "We're talking about getting engaged soon."

A warm smile came over her mum. "School went well?"

Dagmar nodded. "I wrote straight Os on the NEWTs. Draco and I both graduated with distinction. Him and I were lucky to have such a good group of friends to see us through the last few months. If I didn't have them—if I didn't have Draco—I would've had nobody. So I guess all considered, ja, I did pretty good."

While Dagmar spoke, her mum's smile slowly fell. Dagmar's flash of happiness to see her mum just as quickly evaporated. Resentment—a much more common emotion—reemerged.

"We've never talked about Voldemort, or why you had anything to do with him." Dagmar worked to keep her voice steady. "I always hated it. You must have known that. I was ashamed of you and Dad. I planned pretty much right from the time you joined him that I would go my own way after Hogwarts, but not like this. I think I deserve to know just what you were thinking. I want to know what was more important to you than our family. I need a reason before I feel ready to start spreading Dad's ashes."

Dagmar's mum gave her an owlish look. "You can't really have come all this way to talk about that?"

"Don't you dare," Dagmar snapped. "You don't get to play stupid or deflect anymore. That opportunity went out the window when you got Dad killed."

A heavy shine rose in her mum's eyes. Although Dagmar felt bad as her mum's breath shortened and she sat there like a child in trouble as she cried anew, Dagmar didn't let her see that.

"You and your dad are all I think about," she shakily spoke once she'd composed herself. "It's all I can see when I close my eyes. His face. . .herregud, I miss him."

"So do I." Dagmar's chest tightened. "His ashes are on the mantle in my house. Mrs. Keene gave me the list of places he requested they be spread, but I can't do it yet. I need closure, Mum. I need to know what happened."

Her mum shook her head. "I can't."

"You can so. You just won't." Dagmar's stomach rolled hot with anger. "I'm not a child anymore. I'll be eighteen in a few weeks. If you have any love left for me, you'll explain yourself. You and I are the only ones left. You're spending the rest of your life here. This is it. I don't know, if you're not willing to finally be honest with me, that I'll be able to take this anymore with you. It was already intolerable. I'm just fine moving on with my life and leaving you in the hands of the Aurors. Are you?"

Her mum's bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. It was at least a good sign that she was thinking. She glanced at Parasca and the guard before replying in a whisper—rather, a slew of hisses that Dagmar not only recognized, but understood: "It's far from over. I can't tell you—"

"HEY!" The guard hit his stick against the bars, making Dagmar jump. "No whispering!"

He was opening the cell door again. Panic came over Dagmar's mum and she gripped Dagmar's arm before carrying on. "I can't tell you. I really can't. He was protecting us. The Ministry, Dumbledore. . .they would rather have us dead."

It was all she could say before red light hit her and she slumped back on the bed, stunned. Dagmar cried out from the surprise of it, but didn't get much else a chance to react before the guard was pulling her up, away, and out. Dagmar resisted his heavy-handed guidance until she was back out in the hallway. Parasca was giving Dagmar a shrewd look, which compelled Dagmar to avert her gaze.

"You know the way back to the exit?" the guard asked Parasca. "I'll have to deal with her."

"I believe so," Parasca replied.

Dagmar wanted to stay since she'd hardly had any time at all with her mum. She sincerely doubted now, after that, she'd ever be allowed back to see her.

"Come on," Parasca gently coaxed Dagmar as she lingered at the edge of her mum's cell. "You shouldn't be here for this."

Draco only had one flight of stairs to go before the guard leading him and Potter to his father's cell came to a stop. It gave Draco no pleasure to see his father jarred awake out of sleep. He pitied the slightly-emaciated version of his manor's old patriarch curled up under a ratty grey blanket. It embarrassed Draco that Potter should see his father like that as well.

His father blinked at the guard before his grey eyes shifted to Draco instead. His fatigue seemed to disappear and make room for some mimicry of his old regality. He turned haughty as the guard unlocked the cell to admit Draco. When his father sat up in his bed, he idly tried to pat down his hair. His stubble came in grey in places, making him look far older than his actual years.

Draco slipped his hands into his pockets, glancing back over his shoulder as the guard's echoing footsteps receded down the hallway. His father listened too, thinking.

"I must not be that dangerous of a prisoner in the Ministry's eyes," he remarked, voice gravelly. He cleared his throat. "The only other visitor they left me alone with was Dumbledore. I suppose they think you can handle your own, whether or not you have that pin in your wrist."

Draco's father flashed his. Where Draco had been stymied earlier, a small dot not dissimilar to a bruise had developed on his father's forearm.

"Not like it would be hard," Draco coolly replied. "You don't look like you could fight your way out of a wet paper bag right now."

His father's eyes narrowed, mouth pulling down at the corners into a sneer.

"Of course—" his tone bypassed Draco's in iciness, "if they're comfortable leaving the two of us alone, they must not think anything productive could come of this conversation."

"Mr. Clayton pulled some strings," Draco repeated the story they'd come up with. "The amount of damage control I've had to do thanks to you has been more than expected. It's likely only by the grace of that our assets haven't been fully seized, and the wealth stripped from our name—not that the name means anything anymore."

His father's face lengthened at that. Draco had touched a nerve. "What sort of damage control?"

"Alliances," Draco answered. "The Dark Lord is gone. Disappeared again, like he does best. You can't think your antics gave me much other choice than to turn to Dumbledore."

His father studied him. "You're sure that was wise?"

"It doesn't matter whether it was or not. I did what I had to."

Draco hesitated to say more, unsure if he should be telling his father anything like this. In Azkaban or not, his father was still a high-ranking Death Eater. Draco had to remind himself that Azkaban was secured now by Aurors. While perhaps not the most despondent place in the world anymore, it was probably now the most secure.

"Heard from your mother?" his father asked.

"No."

"Hm."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What about it?"

"I was told she vanished." Whatever had happened between Draco's parents, his father still aged a little with new concern. "I suppose she's safe. The Dark Lord always takes care of those who are loyal."

"You think she's with him?"

"I can't imagine where else she would be." His father shrugged. "Bella would've gone to get her before the Ministry could."

"I suspected that," Draco said. "I didn't hear anything, though. Still haven't. I thought that if the Dark Lord had her, he would've used her to draw me in."

"Perhaps not. He's normally above such shortsightedness."

That unsettled Draco, even though he had direct evidence to the contrary that his mum was safe somewhere far away from here. His father didn't know about the letter. He didn't even seem to know that the night of his arrest had also marked the end of his marriage.

"Should I be concerned, then?" Draco asked.

"No." His father dismissed the notion with a wave. "It doesn't matter. None of it does. The Dark Lord's impending reign is inevitable. Once that happens, the world will only come down to blood. We'll be fine—rewarded, in fact, for our loyalty during times when mere faith had to suffice. It won't even matter that you've allied yourself in the meantime with Dumbledore. It might even work in your favour if you have information when the time comes that could put him in the Dark Lord's hands."

Draco suppressed a grimace, for he could only imagine how those words were going to be interpreted by Potter. He hoped he'd garnered enough trust for it to blow over.

"What's the Dark Lord waiting for, then?" Draco asked. "What does he need to make that happen?"

Draco's father eyed him in new thought. "He could take it right now. It's just not ideal. He needs to wait if he wants it to be more than a temporary fix."

"He needs to find what he's looking for," Draco spoke for him. "Who's Magnus Norheim?"

"Now, where ever did you hear that name?" His father's tone turned teasing. "Hm, I suppose that answers the mystery as to where Everett and Hugo wound up. It gives me hope that, even if someone can't be found at the moment, nobody can truly hide forever."

"What did Norheim steal?"

"I'm sure you'd love to know."

"Why else would I ask?"

"There are always ears here," Draco's father said. "Don't think I've forgotten how we last parted ways. I'm no fool, boy. Who's listening? Dumbledore? Potter, perhaps?"

Draco just shrugged. "Forgive me for trying to help."

"I'm sure that's exactly what you were doing. Who you're trying to help is the question," his father replied. "I won't risk it."

"So then there's a chance the Dark Lord could be stopped."

"No, like I said." His father idly picked at the grime underneath his nails. "It's a matter of what's most ideal. Believe me, you personally do not want the Dark Lord to be forced to rush."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I hope you don't find out."

Perhaps having sensed the end of productivity in this conversation—as if there'd been a beginning to it—footsteps returned down the hallway. The same guard that had led Draco and Potter there reappeared.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"I think we're done," Draco replied. "I've nothing else to say."

"Nor I," his father said.

The guard unlocked the cell and gestured for Draco to exit. Draco hesitated at the bars.

"I guess this is probably goodbye, then," Draco told his father. "I can't imagine I'll be allowed to come back."

"It's not goodbye." His father smirked anew. "I'll see you on the other side of all this."

Draco followed the guard back the way they came. A pit had settled in his stomach. Draco didn't like that his father gave him so much to think about. Could he be speaking the truth about You-Know-Who's imminent rise to power, or did Draco just bear witness to how utterly brainwashed his father was by You-Know-Who's rhetoric?

Dagmar and Parasca had already made it back to the foyer. Dagmar's face was blotchy, although the tension bled out of her shoulders when she spotted Draco. She felt heavy—weighed down—after Draco brought her into a brief but tight hug. She pulled back a bit when Parasca addressed them with mention of leaving. Draco was more than keen on that.