A/N: I'm a horrible, horrible, horrible author! I am SO sorry it took me so
long to update. I've really been slacking. I have many excuses (such as my
currently broken ankle and my recent illness) but there is no reason for me
to have taken this long. Please forgive me! Hopefully, I will update sooner
next time.
Draco sat in his filthy cell and watched as the dementors passed by. They would always stop at his cell as if looking for something, perhaps to suck that last bit of hope of out him, but he refused to let go. They couldn't take Hermione away from him. He could sit there and watch every one of his horrible memories pass before him: his father's abuse, his mother's death, his horrifying encounter with Voldemort. He no longer cared about those things because they were over. He would never experience them again. Hermione, on the other hand, would always be there. No one could change the fact that he loved her. Draco sneered at the hooded black thing standing in front of his hellhole as it glided away.
"What I wouldn't give for ten minutes with Sirius Black," he muttered. "The only one who ever escaped. Lucky bastard."
Hermione went through the sixth book she had found on Azkaban. Everything she saw about the place scared her more. There were pictures of men with bones jutting out of their skin they were so skinny and women who had gone bald from ripping out their hair and the dementors.
"Moody better find someone to fill Draco's stall soon," she spoke to herself as she scanned the book.
The most commonly known aspect of the prison Azkaban is the dementor. These creatures are cloaked in black and bring a person's worst memories to surface. When this happens, the dementors feed on the happiness that escapes to body. After a certain amount of time is spent around dementors, the memories brought back by the creatures permanently surface, allowing no room for happy thought. The victim will be stuck in his memories, living them out as if they are occurring. They will lose the ability to tell the difference between memory and reality. The only person ever known to resist the dementors' powers is Sirius Black and it is still unconfirmed how he managed to ignore the plaguing memories.
Hermione closed the book; none of them contained any new information to her. She apparated back to her office where she pretended to be interested in the new information sent to her about the World Cup, which was being held in Scotland this year. However, her mind kept drifting back to those books and to Draco, wondering if he was all right.
Three months later.
Harry stepped past the gates leading into Azkaban. The place reeked of gloom. It was constantly dark and he could hear the screams of the insane prisoners being housed in the filthy, tiny cells that lined the buildings. The dementors had been ordered to leave the building since an Auror was entering and so far Harry had managed to avoid contact with any of them. By now, he knew how to create a full-fledged Patronus easily, but he didn't want to have to relive his worst memories so he could retrieve a person he wasn't all that happy about seeing in the first place.
As he reached cell 2016, he pulled out the key from his pocket. Immediately he thought the Ministry had made a mistake. Before him sat an extremely skinny man; bones were seen clearly through his skin and the dark gray, almost black, eyes were completely blank. His hair was a dull blonde color and hung down to his ears in a tangled mess. He sat in the corner, rocking back and forth with his hands grasping his hair, almost pulling it out of his scalp.
"Malfoy?"
The man's head shot up and his gray eyes darted around the cell wildly. Harry had gone up against dark wizards and had faced even Voldemort before, but this scared him far more than any of those encounters. A man who had once been so strong was before him looking insane and weak.
Harry put the key in the lock and twisted it slowly, "Draco?"
Draco scuttled as far as he could into the corner of the room and started shivering. "Wh-w-what?" he asked nervously as if frightened to death of Harry. His voice quivered, obviously not used to being used.
"Are you alright?" Harry stood there and hesitantly watched.
Draco just sat there and buried his head in his knees before breaking down into tears.
"What do you want?" he yelled. "What do you all want?"
Harry backed out of the cell and pulled out his muggle phone. He punched in Hermione's office number slowly, unused to the call phone, or whatever the muggles called them. After three rings, Hermione answered.
"Hermione?" he asked before she even had a chance to speak.
"Yes, Harry?"
"I need you to come to Azkaban. You can apparate to the front gates and tell them you are here with the Ministry to assist Harry Potter. They'll tell you to meet me at cell 2016. Please hurry, Hermione. I need to get out of here and I don't know how I'm going to do that without help."
"Ok, Harry. I'll be right there," Harry heard the phone click and the line go dead.
Hermione immediately apparated out of her office and to the gates of Azkaban. She knew why Harry needed her; today, he was going to free Draco Malfoy and fill his cell with Julian Michaud, a man who had used the Unforgivable Curses on three muggles under the order of Lord Voldemort.
Hermione was ecstatic. After three months, Draco was going to be free. Moody had complied an indomitable case for the trial and, once they won, Draco would no longer have to run. For the first time in their relationship, they would no longer have to hide.
Hermione ran out of her office and apparated to the gates of Azkaban. She was greeted by a dementor and tired her best to ignore the bone-chilling shiver that ran up her spine.
"I am here to assist Mr. Harry Potter in the imprisonment of Julian Michaud. I know where I am to go an I do not need any assistance, so if you would please allow me inside, I must be on my way."
The dementor moved to the side of the gate, allowing Hermione access to the darkness that fell behind it. She closed her eyes and walked hesitantly into the prison yard. The insanity and evil in the place was nearly palpable and she forced her legs to hurry across the yard and to the aisle labeled 2100 - 2150. Screams echoed off the walls of the prison cells and Hermione jogged down to where she saw Harry standing. He was holding silvery ropes that held together Michaud and was staring at the cell in front of him.
"Harry," Hermione called.
"Be quiet," Harry mumbled barley loud enough for her to hear.
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she did as she was told and stepped forward so she was next to Harry. She looked over at the cell labeled 2016 and let out a small gasp.
"Draco? That's Draco?" she spoke unbelievingly and took an uneasy step towards the frail body lying in the corner of the cell.
"Yes. That's why I needed your help. Hermione, I don't know what to do."
Hermione stepped into the cell and watched as Draco rocked back and forth.
"Draco?" she called loud enough for him to hear.
Draco's head shot up and a small look of recognition filled his eyes. Hermione smiled and took another step forward as he just sat there and stared, wide eyed.
Hermione lowered herself to be level with him and moved closer slowly. Her hand extended so it touched his bare leg. Draco was shivering from the cold and his fear. He was clothed only in a pair of torn pants and a grungy t-shirt. Hermione's eyes closed in pain as she felt the bone underneath his skin. Her small hand could almost fit around his calf.
"Draco, can you hear me?"
He still sat there, completely still and unmoving, staring at Hermione.
Her hand moved gently from his leg to his cheek as she took another step closer. Her thumb moved over his skin and tears rolled down her face before she collapsed to her knees.
"You," Draco whispered lightly.
"Me," Hermione smiled as she inched closer. "Do you want to get out of here?"
Draco just sat there again, looking up at Hermione as if she was a miracle. To him, she was.
Hermione reached out her hand and grasped his. He tensed under her touch and nearly pulled away, but Hermione held strong. Once he started relaxing, she slowly stood up. Draco made no move to stand and his legs remained tucked securely beneath him.
"Please, Draco. Don't make this so hard on me," Hermione complained as she searched for her wand with her free hand.
Draco's legs made a weak attempt to hold the rest of his body up, but he still couldn't manage to stand. Hermione supported his weight on her left side and slowly started out of the cell.
"So, how have you been, Draco?" she asked weakly. 'Stupid question,' she thought to herself.
Draco's eyes widened as he looked down the hall. Freedom. It was the first taste of the delectable feeling he had experienced in what seemed like forever, and he didn't even know how to classify it. After the second month he had been forced to spend in Azkaban, Draco's mind had started running away with him. It was amazing that he had held on as long as he had.
Memories of his family had become more frequent as Draco felt the days roll by. After the first week, he had stopped guessing how many days had even passed. The sun never shone in Azkaban. The prison was always a dull, dreary gray. There was no difference between day and night there.
"Come on, Hermione," Harry stepped forward and supported Draco's other side. "Thanks for coming."
"Thank you for everything," Hermione grabbed Harry's free hand with her own. "Though I'm not exactly sure how we're going to get through this, Draco is far better off out of this place."
Draco took that moment to straighten up and stop dead in his tracks. Fear overtook his eyes and Hermione felt his grip on her shoulder tighten.
"Not again," he whispered.
"Draco," Hermione spoke soothingly. "It's alright. You're leaving this place. No one can bother you anymore."
She wrapped her hand over his and moved him forward again with Harry's help. If it weren't for the familiar silver color in his eyes, Hermione never would've believed that this was the same Draco she had known. It scared her how he was so weak and how he was so . . . insane.
"H-Her-Hermynee," Draco gasped. "Do you see it? Why aren't you here? Do you see him? Please stop."
"Draco, I'm here. Everything is fine. No one is here but me and Harry."
"Where are you?" Draco's panicked eyes looked around frantically. "I need you."
After about five more seconds of anxious searching for Hermione, Draco's body fell limp on Harry's shoulder.
"The better question is where are you, Draco?" Hermione whispered as she ran her thumb over his hand. "Where's imyi Draco?"
Draco sat in his filthy cell and watched as the dementors passed by. They would always stop at his cell as if looking for something, perhaps to suck that last bit of hope of out him, but he refused to let go. They couldn't take Hermione away from him. He could sit there and watch every one of his horrible memories pass before him: his father's abuse, his mother's death, his horrifying encounter with Voldemort. He no longer cared about those things because they were over. He would never experience them again. Hermione, on the other hand, would always be there. No one could change the fact that he loved her. Draco sneered at the hooded black thing standing in front of his hellhole as it glided away.
"What I wouldn't give for ten minutes with Sirius Black," he muttered. "The only one who ever escaped. Lucky bastard."
Hermione went through the sixth book she had found on Azkaban. Everything she saw about the place scared her more. There were pictures of men with bones jutting out of their skin they were so skinny and women who had gone bald from ripping out their hair and the dementors.
"Moody better find someone to fill Draco's stall soon," she spoke to herself as she scanned the book.
The most commonly known aspect of the prison Azkaban is the dementor. These creatures are cloaked in black and bring a person's worst memories to surface. When this happens, the dementors feed on the happiness that escapes to body. After a certain amount of time is spent around dementors, the memories brought back by the creatures permanently surface, allowing no room for happy thought. The victim will be stuck in his memories, living them out as if they are occurring. They will lose the ability to tell the difference between memory and reality. The only person ever known to resist the dementors' powers is Sirius Black and it is still unconfirmed how he managed to ignore the plaguing memories.
Hermione closed the book; none of them contained any new information to her. She apparated back to her office where she pretended to be interested in the new information sent to her about the World Cup, which was being held in Scotland this year. However, her mind kept drifting back to those books and to Draco, wondering if he was all right.
Three months later.
Harry stepped past the gates leading into Azkaban. The place reeked of gloom. It was constantly dark and he could hear the screams of the insane prisoners being housed in the filthy, tiny cells that lined the buildings. The dementors had been ordered to leave the building since an Auror was entering and so far Harry had managed to avoid contact with any of them. By now, he knew how to create a full-fledged Patronus easily, but he didn't want to have to relive his worst memories so he could retrieve a person he wasn't all that happy about seeing in the first place.
As he reached cell 2016, he pulled out the key from his pocket. Immediately he thought the Ministry had made a mistake. Before him sat an extremely skinny man; bones were seen clearly through his skin and the dark gray, almost black, eyes were completely blank. His hair was a dull blonde color and hung down to his ears in a tangled mess. He sat in the corner, rocking back and forth with his hands grasping his hair, almost pulling it out of his scalp.
"Malfoy?"
The man's head shot up and his gray eyes darted around the cell wildly. Harry had gone up against dark wizards and had faced even Voldemort before, but this scared him far more than any of those encounters. A man who had once been so strong was before him looking insane and weak.
Harry put the key in the lock and twisted it slowly, "Draco?"
Draco scuttled as far as he could into the corner of the room and started shivering. "Wh-w-what?" he asked nervously as if frightened to death of Harry. His voice quivered, obviously not used to being used.
"Are you alright?" Harry stood there and hesitantly watched.
Draco just sat there and buried his head in his knees before breaking down into tears.
"What do you want?" he yelled. "What do you all want?"
Harry backed out of the cell and pulled out his muggle phone. He punched in Hermione's office number slowly, unused to the call phone, or whatever the muggles called them. After three rings, Hermione answered.
"Hermione?" he asked before she even had a chance to speak.
"Yes, Harry?"
"I need you to come to Azkaban. You can apparate to the front gates and tell them you are here with the Ministry to assist Harry Potter. They'll tell you to meet me at cell 2016. Please hurry, Hermione. I need to get out of here and I don't know how I'm going to do that without help."
"Ok, Harry. I'll be right there," Harry heard the phone click and the line go dead.
Hermione immediately apparated out of her office and to the gates of Azkaban. She knew why Harry needed her; today, he was going to free Draco Malfoy and fill his cell with Julian Michaud, a man who had used the Unforgivable Curses on three muggles under the order of Lord Voldemort.
Hermione was ecstatic. After three months, Draco was going to be free. Moody had complied an indomitable case for the trial and, once they won, Draco would no longer have to run. For the first time in their relationship, they would no longer have to hide.
Hermione ran out of her office and apparated to the gates of Azkaban. She was greeted by a dementor and tired her best to ignore the bone-chilling shiver that ran up her spine.
"I am here to assist Mr. Harry Potter in the imprisonment of Julian Michaud. I know where I am to go an I do not need any assistance, so if you would please allow me inside, I must be on my way."
The dementor moved to the side of the gate, allowing Hermione access to the darkness that fell behind it. She closed her eyes and walked hesitantly into the prison yard. The insanity and evil in the place was nearly palpable and she forced her legs to hurry across the yard and to the aisle labeled 2100 - 2150. Screams echoed off the walls of the prison cells and Hermione jogged down to where she saw Harry standing. He was holding silvery ropes that held together Michaud and was staring at the cell in front of him.
"Harry," Hermione called.
"Be quiet," Harry mumbled barley loud enough for her to hear.
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she did as she was told and stepped forward so she was next to Harry. She looked over at the cell labeled 2016 and let out a small gasp.
"Draco? That's Draco?" she spoke unbelievingly and took an uneasy step towards the frail body lying in the corner of the cell.
"Yes. That's why I needed your help. Hermione, I don't know what to do."
Hermione stepped into the cell and watched as Draco rocked back and forth.
"Draco?" she called loud enough for him to hear.
Draco's head shot up and a small look of recognition filled his eyes. Hermione smiled and took another step forward as he just sat there and stared, wide eyed.
Hermione lowered herself to be level with him and moved closer slowly. Her hand extended so it touched his bare leg. Draco was shivering from the cold and his fear. He was clothed only in a pair of torn pants and a grungy t-shirt. Hermione's eyes closed in pain as she felt the bone underneath his skin. Her small hand could almost fit around his calf.
"Draco, can you hear me?"
He still sat there, completely still and unmoving, staring at Hermione.
Her hand moved gently from his leg to his cheek as she took another step closer. Her thumb moved over his skin and tears rolled down her face before she collapsed to her knees.
"You," Draco whispered lightly.
"Me," Hermione smiled as she inched closer. "Do you want to get out of here?"
Draco just sat there again, looking up at Hermione as if she was a miracle. To him, she was.
Hermione reached out her hand and grasped his. He tensed under her touch and nearly pulled away, but Hermione held strong. Once he started relaxing, she slowly stood up. Draco made no move to stand and his legs remained tucked securely beneath him.
"Please, Draco. Don't make this so hard on me," Hermione complained as she searched for her wand with her free hand.
Draco's legs made a weak attempt to hold the rest of his body up, but he still couldn't manage to stand. Hermione supported his weight on her left side and slowly started out of the cell.
"So, how have you been, Draco?" she asked weakly. 'Stupid question,' she thought to herself.
Draco's eyes widened as he looked down the hall. Freedom. It was the first taste of the delectable feeling he had experienced in what seemed like forever, and he didn't even know how to classify it. After the second month he had been forced to spend in Azkaban, Draco's mind had started running away with him. It was amazing that he had held on as long as he had.
Memories of his family had become more frequent as Draco felt the days roll by. After the first week, he had stopped guessing how many days had even passed. The sun never shone in Azkaban. The prison was always a dull, dreary gray. There was no difference between day and night there.
"Come on, Hermione," Harry stepped forward and supported Draco's other side. "Thanks for coming."
"Thank you for everything," Hermione grabbed Harry's free hand with her own. "Though I'm not exactly sure how we're going to get through this, Draco is far better off out of this place."
Draco took that moment to straighten up and stop dead in his tracks. Fear overtook his eyes and Hermione felt his grip on her shoulder tighten.
"Not again," he whispered.
"Draco," Hermione spoke soothingly. "It's alright. You're leaving this place. No one can bother you anymore."
She wrapped her hand over his and moved him forward again with Harry's help. If it weren't for the familiar silver color in his eyes, Hermione never would've believed that this was the same Draco she had known. It scared her how he was so weak and how he was so . . . insane.
"H-Her-Hermynee," Draco gasped. "Do you see it? Why aren't you here? Do you see him? Please stop."
"Draco, I'm here. Everything is fine. No one is here but me and Harry."
"Where are you?" Draco's panicked eyes looked around frantically. "I need you."
After about five more seconds of anxious searching for Hermione, Draco's body fell limp on Harry's shoulder.
"The better question is where are you, Draco?" Hermione whispered as she ran her thumb over his hand. "Where's imyi Draco?"