A/N: Thank you to everyone who left me comments! I'm really bad about replying, but please know that I truly do read them all and love them so much!

AlphaBet love to BiscuitsForPotter and DisenchantedGlow as always!

Draco had only been to Azkaban prison once previously. The summer before his sixth year began with him and his mother trekking through the dark corridors to visit his father in a cramped visitation room just a month after he'd been arrested. Draco supposed that he should have gone back after Lucius had been arrested following the Battle of Hogwarts, but he hadn't. Dolohov had established himself as High Minister and had taken Draco under his wing so quickly he hadn't had time to think of anything except his training. Once his time was his own again, it had been too dangerous for a known Death Eater to travel to such high-risk areas.

"This way, Mr. Malfoy." The guard was a surly, wiry man, pale from lack of sunlight and sunken eyes weary from continued Dementor exposure. A small Patronus of a hedgehog trailed after the man as he led Draco and Dawlish, who had agreed to accompany him, through the labyrinth of corridors.

Draco's footsteps echoed loudly against the stone floors. On both sides of him, he could see prisoners in their cells, some peeking out at him from behind their bars, others huddled in the far corners, clutching their heads and rocking. Draco fought to keep his gaze forward, trying not to think of how easily he could end up being one of these wretched souls. Trying not to think of his father in his last days.

He wondered how much less hospitable this visit would have been if Shacklebolt had not owled ahead speaking on Draco's behalf and if Dawlish hadn't been sent with him. This guard certainly seemed to dislike Draco to some degree. He kept sending scowls over his shoulder, as if he expected Draco to hex him while his back was turned.

At last, the guard arrived at the end of the corridor and swung open a heavy looking metal door. Draco stepped inside behind the guard and felt the air rush from his lungs.

Before them was a metal table under a hovering orb of bright light. On the table was the obvious shape of a body, tall and thin, underneath a white sheet.

Draco's mouth went dry and he swallowed thickly. He had been told that he would have to identify the body, but now that he was here, he wasn't sure what would happen when the guard pulled back that sheet. That was his father on that table. Would he cry? Scream? Laugh? What was the appropriate response to seeing one's father's corpse?

Draco had had a tumultuous relationship with his father. Lucius had been stern, cold, even cruel at times. He'd raised Draco to follow in his own proud footsteps, and that path had set Draco to become what he was now: a killer.

And yet, this was his father. He had always cared for Draco. He hadn't been the most nurturing parent, but Draco had never felt unloved. Lucius had always been willing to go above and beyond to make sure Draco and his mother were well cared for and had everything they could possibly need.

The guard moved around the table and looked at Draco, eyes questioning if he was ready. Draco nodded, and the guard pulled the sheet down to reveal Lucius' face.

Throat tight, Draco stepped closer. There was no question, this was Lucius Malfoy. He nodded at the guard.

"I'll give you a moment," the guard offered, leaving the sheet folded down and moving back toward the door. "Knock when you're ready."

The door closed, and Draco was left alone with his father.

Draco wished he knew how to properly grieve for the man who had given him everything, yet left him with so much damage.

He looked down at his father, wondering if he'd truly diminished so much in the two years since Draco had last seen him. He seemed small, almost… frail. Draco had always been so intimidated by his father growing up. Lucius had always seemed almost god-like, lording over the Manor and everyone and everything in it with such firm authority. But looking at him now Draco couldn't imagine why he'd ever thought of his father like that. Perhaps Lucius had been nothing more than his self-righteous demeanor. Stripped of that, he was far more… human.

The bright light was glinting off of Lucius' thinning platinum hair. He was pale, which was to be expected, but Draco couldn't get over the shock of seeing just how grey he looked. Azkaban had changed his father the first time he'd been imprisoned. It seemed that it had been even worse the second time around.

A cold knife of guilt twisted in Draco's gut. He should have visited. Early after the Battle of Hogwarts when he hadn't been a wanted man. He should have fought through an uncomfortable conversation with his father if for no other reason than to assure Lucius that he cared.

He stepped closer and placed his hand gently over his father's heart. "Goodbye, father."

With a heaviness in his chest, he replaced the sheet over Lucius's face and turned away to knock on the door.

The guard pushed the door open and jerked his head impatiently. "Very well, Mr. Malfoy. We have some things to discuss in the main office. Personal effects to be released and a few forms to sign."

"Fine," Draco bit out with a nod.

He followed the guard down a short corridor off to the right where there were no cells. He guessed that these were offices and quarters for the guards and staff on call. At the end of this corridor was a spacious office with perhaps the largest window in the entire prison. It was heavily barred, but still large enough to let in some light from outside.

There was another guard here, his robes a sleek black rather than grey like the other man's. He stood from a rather worn looking desk and stepped around to shake Draco's hand.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm Earnest Wilson. I'm the governor here. Please have a seat." The man gestured to a pair of chairs across from the desk and Draco and Dawlish sank into them.

"First, I would like to offer my deepest condolences to you," Wilson said, sinking into his chair.

Draco cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"All of your father's personal effects have been relinquished to you. We tried to contact your mother, but we weren't able to—"

"She's abroad," Draco clipped.

Wilson shut his mouth and nodded. "Very well. We will release the items left to her into your care as well. Your father's will was clear that in the event one of you was not available, the other was permitted to accept what remained."

Draco nodded. Lucius had perhaps expected that either he or his mother would die prematurely. Or perhaps he knew that Narcissa was likely to flee the country. At any rate, Draco was grateful that his mother would not have to come here to retrieve anything when—if—she returned.

The guard produced a box which contained only a few items. The robes Lucius had arrived in—the same ones he would have worn upon his release; his wand, carefully concealed within his walking stick; two letters, one addressed to his mother and one to him.

Draco's fingers twitched, longing to read the letter his father had written him. But there would be time for that later.

"How did this happen?" Draco asked sternly.

Wilson shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "The investigation is still underway. Our preliminary investigation has found evidence of a break in. It seems that someone gained access to the prison and was able to find your father's cell. He was killed by the Killing Curse. It would have been instant."

He said this as if it should have comforted Draco to know that his father felt nothing, but Draco didn't feel comforted at all. He just felt numb.

"We will do everything in our power to ensure that this never happens again. I know that is of little comfort to you, but please know we are working closely with the Auror Department to try and find the perpetrators." He gestured to Dawlish, who nodded but said nothing.

Draco grunted. As far as he was concerned, there was no need for an investigation. He knew exactly what had happened. This had been payback for Draco killing those five Death Eaters at their safe house.

He'd killed some of their own, so they had murdered his father.

"The guard mentioned paperwork," Draco pressed.

He had to sign a few documents to verify that he had identified the body and to consent to a release of the remains to a mortuary. Afterwards, Dawlish escorted Draco to the ministry, where he had a whole slew of papers to sign. Most of these pertained to Lucius' will and estate. With his mother unreachable, Draco was the only one left to handle these affairs.

He mechanically signed everything he needed to, still feeling hollow. By the time he returned to headquarters, it was well after dinner time. Dawlish, who had been very quiet all day, clapped Draco on the shoulder and offered to heat some food up for him.

Draco declined, not feeling hungry in the slightest. Adjusting the box of Lucius' personal effects under his arm, he climbed the stairs and closed himself in his bedroom.

At long last, Draco picked up the letter and held it in his hands.

Did he really want to read it? These were surely the last words his father would ever share with him. It seemed so… final.

No, he had to read it. He owed his father that much. Hands trembling slightly, he opened the envelope and pulled the single parchment from within.

Draco,

With my death, the head of household title now passes to you. You are Lord Malfoy. It is up to you to continue to bring honor and pride to the family name. Remember our traditions and make your decisions accordingly.

It is your duty to continue the Malfoy line as it has existed for centuries. Future descendants will look to your leadership and guidance. Never forget there is great pride and responsibility in being a Malfoy.

Look after your mother. She is a strong woman, but she will need you now more than ever.

You have been strong and upheld the Malfoy name with honor. I know you will continue to do the same.

Your Father,

Lucius Abraxus Malfoy

The Malfoy name… What had Draco really brought the Malfoy name? Death and darkness mostly. Shame, as he saw it, rather than pride. Would his father have been proud if he'd known what Draco had become? Would he have delighted in the deaths of all of the men who betrayed or defied Dolohov? Would he have spat in Draco's face at his failure to murder Granger?

With a sigh, Draco dropped the letter back into the box and slid it under his bed.

He laid down on the mattress with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. Mere hours ago, he'd been blissfully happy, holding Granger in his arms. But now… now his world seemed much darker.

They'd killed his father because of his actions. His father's death was his own fault, really. If not for him, Lucius would have completed his ten year sentence and been released. Alive, wealthy, and perfectly happy to be reunited with his wife. But because of Draco's impulsivity, he was dead.

Draco's stomach twisted. If they'd been able to break into Azkaban, there was no limit to what they were capable of. The safe houses were being compromised, and Draco had no idea how they were managing to find them.

Granger was already being targeted because of her brilliant mind. Draco could only imagine how badly Dolohov would want her dead if he found out that she and Draco were now intimately involved.

They would have to keep it very quiet. He wondered if he should obliviate Potter and Ginny. If word got out, and if there really was a spy, Granger would be in even more danger.

He shook his head. One problem at a time. Lucius was dead.

Draco wasn't sure what he felt. Guilt, yes. Sadness? He couldn't be sure about sadness. How could he begin to grieve Lucius when he'd been so distant from him when he'd been alive? Their relationship had always been strained. Narcissa had always been the loving one, the nurturing one. He could always turn to his mother for compassion. When he'd been growing up, every bit of good news he got, he'd always wanted to share it with his mother first.

His father had been more stoic, offering stern encouragement with all of Draco's accomplishments. Nothing was ever good enough. He could always do better, get higher marks, fly with more skill, achieve more. It had been motivating, but if he just wanted to feel good about what he'd done, Draco would never turn to Lucius.

He felt… angry. Angry that he'd never have a better relationship with his father. Angry that Lucius had always been so cold and distant when Draco had been growing up. Angry that the Death Eaters had snuffed out his life and left Draco with this swirling emptiness.

Draco sat up. It was late. His bedside clock told him that it was nearly midnight. He didn't want to go to Granger like this and put the burden of his troubles on her shoulders, but he couldn't bear to be alone.

Quiet as he could, he tiptoed out of his room and down the corridor to her quarters. He didn't bother to knock. He slipped inside and locked and silenced the room behind him. It was dark save for the pale moonlight streaming in through the window. Granger lay on her side with her back to him, her ribs expanding and contracting with each breath.

As he reached her bed, Granger stirred. She lifted her head and turned to look at him, blinking sleepily.

"Draco?" she mumbled.

Saying nothing, Draco slipped into bed behind her and wrapped his arms around her torso.

She twisted in his grasp, her eyes wide and filled with concern. "I'm so sorry about your father," she breathed.

Draco's heart clenched. She really was good, wasn't she? Too good, in fact. To express condolences for a man who had hated her and her kind, who wouldn't have lost a wink of sleep if she'd died in his drawing room two years ago.

"Are you alright?" she asked, splaying one of her hands out on his chest.

He swallowed, placing his hand over hers. Her eyes were shining in the moonlight and he wondered what he could say to put her mind at ease. In truth he wasn't alright. And he had no idea what he needed in order to feel alright again.

Leaning forward, he captured her lips in a fierce kiss. She returned it immediately, opening herself up without hesitation to whatever he might need in the wake of his loss.

She was too good… too self-sacrificing. And Draco was just broken enough to take advantage.

He shifted his weight on top of her as his tongue delved into her mouth desperately. Small hands closed around his biceps as she returned the kiss enthusiastically.

Frantically, Draco fumbled with the button of his trousers, pushing them down as she set to work on the buttons of his shirt. His cock was already hardening, desperate for the comfort of her body. Her pajama shorts were easy to drag down her thighs along with her knickers. She sat up slightly to rip her tank top over her head and toss it to the floor.

Draco discarded his pants and stroked his cock vigorously a few times. Granger leaned back on the bed, spreading her legs invitingly.

Merlin, she was too good. He didn't deserve her. Didn't deserve to have her look at him adoringly as he made love to her.

Wordlessly, he pushed her body so that she rolled over onto her stomach. He pulled her hips so that they lifted up off the bed. He used his palms to spread her arse cheeks, dipping his fingers into her as she moaned and arched her back. She was soaked, already rolling her hips wantonly.

He gripped his cock, teasing her entrance for a moment before thrusting into her hard. She gasped as he fucked her without restraint. His hands found her waist and pulled her back to meet him roughly with each snap of his hips.

Crying out, Granger's hands reached forward, gripping the sheets in fistfulls. He reached forward with one hand, gathering up her thick curls and pulling them back. A strangled scream left her lips as her back arched. He slammed into her hard and fast, his thoughts fuzzy and far away.

What would Lucius think of his son's new paramour? Not a prim and proper pureblood witch to demurely lie back and think of England, but a brazen muggleborn who was desperately dancing her fingers over her clit to seek her own release. An amazing, gifted witch who accepted every bit of him, countless flaws and all.

And he was fucking her like a beast. Like she was something to be dominated. Like she was a… a Mudblood.

Something within Draco fractured as Granger cried out her release, quivering around him and collapsing forward onto her elbows in bliss.

Draco stilled, watching Granger come apart. His incredible witch, letting herself be used for his sick comfort. Heart plummeting, he pulled out of her and gently rolled her over onto her back.

She was smiling, and she spread her legs for him and pulled him closer by the hips. Her cunt was still fluttering as he sank back into her, moving much more slowly.

"I'm sorry," he intoned miserably, leaning forward over her to kiss her tenderly. "I'm so sorry."

What he was sorry for, he wasn't entirely sure, but he thrust into her slowly, like an apology.

Granger went still at his words, and then her hands moved to his face, pulling him back so that her eyes could take him in. Whatever she saw, she seemed to understand, for her thumb began to draw a soothing path over his cheek.

Her lips parted, and he became aware that there was moisture under her thumb. He was crying. A few tears escaped his eyes and she brushed them away gently, without judgement.

Dipping his head to the crook of her neck, he thrust into her a bit harder while maintaining his slow, languid pace.

She was speaking as her fingers danced over the back of his neck and shoulders. "It's alright. It's alright."

But it wasn't.

He didn't know what to say to her to make up for everything. For the rough way he'd just taken her. For the sins of his father. For the way he'd treated her growing up. For the obstacles she had faced and would continue to face because of who she was.

He came with a grunt against her neck, stilling for a moment before he slipped from inside of her and rolled onto his back.

Granger turned her head to look at him, her eyes full of concern. She rolled, placing one hand over his heart tenderly and propping her head up on her other hand.

Draco closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, hard enough to see stars.

"What are you sorry for?" she queried gently.

He shook his head, not even able to begin to know how to answer her question. His father would never have accepted the witch next to him. But that mattered very little now. His father was dead. And with him he had taken the last piece that had tethered Draco to a life of upholding the family's pureblood honor.

He thought of everything Lucius would miss. The end of the war. Meeting Draco's future bride, the birth of his first grandchild.

With a jolt, Draco realized that he was imagining a future that may never exist. This war had taken so much from him—from everyone—and he had no doubt that it would continue to take until it was over or until Draco had nothing left to lose.

He dropped his hands and turned to look at her. His heart was pounding in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears. Though he knew he didn't deserve it, he knew he wanted a future… a future with her. Whether it was a day or a lifetime. He would take it. For as long as she was willing.

"I love you."

The words had left his lips before he could stop them. But although he hadn't planned to say them, they were no less true.

Granger blinked, her lips falling open in shock at his sudden admission.

"I'm in love with you," he reiterated.

She stared at him saying nothing, and he just knew he'd scared her off. It was too soon. Much too soon to say it.

"Draco…" She trailed off, biting her lip for a moment. "I don't want you to say that unless you mean it. You've had a very difficult day and I can understand why you need to feel some comfort and connection to someone else, but—"

"That's not why I said it," Draco insisted.

He grimaced at the look of uncertainty and pity on her face. "Fuck." He gasped in air and covered his face again. "I shouldn't have said that. It's… It's too soon. Shit. I've fucked it all up now, haven't I?"

He rolled onto his side and placed his hand on her cheek gently. "I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes and tilted her head into his palm. "Did you mean it?" she breathed, her voice wavering.

"Yes." There was no need for hesitation now. The words were out, and he felt freer than ever.

Her eyes opened, tears glistening in honey as she took a shuddering breath. "I love you, too."

Draco blinked, his lips twitching up in a grin. "Really?"

A little laugh bubbled over her lips as she nodded. "Yes. I love you, Draco."

Heart filled to bursting, Draco leaned forward and kissed her. He still didn't know how it was possible for her to accept him, let alone love him. But she did love him. And in her arms, he felt like someone worth loving.

A/N: Updates every Monday

Next chapter posts July 27th

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