Chapter Three
Almost every day since he was told his father and mother would be placed in Azkaban for their activities with the Dark Lord, Draco had sent them letters. It was an important part of his day, usually right before breakfast, when he sat down with parchment and quill and wrote at least one page.
He was doing so now in a sunny sitting room of the house, curled up in a relaxed way around an arm of a sofa as wide as his whole body. His parchment perched on the soft, cushy leather he tickled the feathers of his quill over his lips as contemplated what he'd wrote.
He wasn't even sure if his parents were getting his mail. Before, if the Dementors had still been in power, he would have been positive that nothing would ever get through to his parents there. But after their uprising earlier this year, after they'd freed all of those loyal Death Eaters, the Ministry had taken over again. He wasn't sure if there were any Dementors left in the fortress anymore, but he sincerely hoped, for the sake of his mother and father, that there weren't.
Moving the quill away from his lips he dotted a period and then sighed, curling his bare feet against the edge of the sofa. This got more and more difficult every time he wrote. By now, he was wondering if his parents could even read letters anymore. Maybe there wasn't anything left in Azkaban of his parents at all.
He was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He didn't need to glance away from his letter as he began to write again to know who it was. "What is it, Granger?"
"Professor Snape is here to see you." She didn't sound as annoyed with having to play the part of a messenger as Draco imagined he would have been if he had been given the same task.
"I see." He casually lifted a hand to wave her away as if she were one of his house elves. Although maybe, he wondered, she'd like that sort of thing. She was so obsessed with the shriveled little buggers, wasn't she?
"Uhm, Malfoy?" He lifted his eyes to her finally as she moved closer, even if it was just a step. "What are you doing?"
"I'm writing a letter, Granger." He rolled his eyes and glanced back down to his paper. At this time of day and with this task, he couldn't dredge up the necessary scathing wit to deal with her. He was much more occupied by other thoughts, ones that were, for once, important.
"Well I think that's rather obvious." He could see Hermione from the corner of his eye as she lifted her arms to put them on her hips, thought better of the aggressive pose, and lowered them to her sides again. "Who are you writing to?"
Draco managed an annoyed sigh and looked up at her. "What–" His voice trailed off as he noticed her then. She seemed dressed up for something. She wore a black skirt that went down to her knees and a maroon sweater. She'd pulled her wavy hair back out of her face and he fancied he saw a bit of color that wasn't normally there on her lips. "Who do you think I'd be writing to, Granger? Really, I thought you were supposed to be the smart little pig."
"So," She began and finally gave in, putting her hands on her hips. Draco smirked lazily, uncurling one leg from beneath him and lowering it to rest flat on the floor. "You're writing to your parents then?" Hermione finally finished.
"Mm." He nodded once.
"Well." It seemed to strike something in the girl upon learning this little bit of information. Draco saw her eyes soften just slightly as she lowered her hands, turning around to leave the room. "He's waiting for you in the kitchen." And she left.
Draco didn't watch her go, glancing back to his letter. "I'll finish you later I suppose, mum." He let the parchment roll up and stood. Setting his ink and quill on a nearby table, he took his letter with him as he left the sitting room and went into the kitchen.
He could hear Lupin and Mr. Weasley already discussing something between themselves from the same room. "We can send out a small escort like last year to collect him. Even if You-Know-Who is plotting something, another inside source like Severus suggests, we have to remember that Harry is still just a boy who needs to attend school. He needs to graduate."
"It's settled then. Two weeks before the children go back to school we'll have the Order fetch Harry and bring him here. We'll have one day in Diagon Alley to get all the children's things, we don't have to worry about him trying anything there."
"And then to Hogwarts. A safer location couldn't be found."
"I sincerely hope you didn't drag me all the way in here to talk about bloody Potter," Draco announced as he stepped into the kitchen.
Professor Snape gave him a narrowed glare. "Please, Mr. Malfoy, if you would be so kind, I believe we would like nothing more than for you to spare us your childish rhetoric."
Professor Snape had such a great sense of humor. Draco glanced at the two men, Mr. Weasley and Lupin, before he turned his attention fully to the greasy haired Potions Master. "You wanted to see me?"
"I'm here to take you away instead," He replied, rising to his feet. He seemed to want to get going right away.
"Take me away? Finally, it's about time. Where are we going?" He could pack his things in an instant! All he needed to do was close and lock his trunk lid and haul it downstairs. He'd even be sure to make lots of noise to wake up the portraits. He wanted to leave with a grand hurrah!
Professor Snape, as he so loved to do, was quick to squash childish dreams. "To see your parents, naturally, just like you've been begging me since I brought you here."
Draco couldn't hide his disappointment right away, a bit of it leaked out onto his face before he realized what Snape had said. "My parents? Really? So you actually did read my mail. And here, without receiving any reply, I thought I had to keep sending in case they kept getting misdirected."
As usual, Snape didn't look overly amused. "Put on some shoes quickly, I would like to get this done with as soon as possible."
****
"Hey, guess what your mother just told me!" Hermione exclaimed as she rejoined Ron in the upstairs hall. Her house mate was currently standing on a stepping ladder, scrubbing the corner where the ceiling met the wall. This was their chore today, to clean all of the walls up here.
Ron was glad to see her though, it meant they could take a break! Especially since she was holding a tray of cookies and two glasses of milk. "What? She decided she's going to let us do this by magic?"
"What? No. It's better this way, really, Ron. By hand, we can make sure everything's done perfectly. Besides, we're not allowed to use magic during break, you know that." She set the tray on an open patch of hallway and sat next to it, situating her skirt into place at her knees.
"I know, I know." Ron rolled his eyes before he joined her and promptly helped himself. The cookies were still warm, his favorite way to enjoy them. "What's up?"
"It's Harry!" Hermione announced gleefully. "They're going to fetch him in a little while, next month I think! They're going to bring him here to stay for a few weeks before school starts."
"In a month! Hermione." Ron looked suddenly desperate, and funny with chocolate smudged on the corner of his mouth. "Are you serious? That's like forever away! Why can't they get him here sooner? It'd be so much easier to deal with Malfoy if he were here now instead of a month from now!"
"He's not that difficult to deal with, you know." Hermione took a bite of her cookie, being careful not to get any crumbs on her sweater. "If you stay out of his way, he'll stay out of yours, right? At least that's what it seems like. He hasn't been a pest since the fight in the kitchen, and that was five days ago."
Ron didn't look impressed. "His very presence is something to deal with. I can't even believe he's here, couldn't the Ministry find some better place to stick that rat? How come we have to put up with him all the time?" When Hermione gave him one of her 'you are such a wimp' looks, he added, "and besides. You remember how it was last time when we waited so long to save Harry from that terrible family of his. He was so torked that we hadn't come sooner! He yelled at us for like half an hour!"
"He sure was cranky, wasn't he?" Hermione knew she shouldn't laugh but she couldn't help it. It had been frightening at the time, sure, but now when she could clearly remember how red his face was gotten and how loud he had become, hollering and yelling. He must have been really hurt. "Poor Harry." Still giggling, she finished her cookie and took a drink of her milk. "He won't be like that this time, Ron, I've already sent him some letters. You have too, haven't you?"
"Er...one, I think. I dunno, I don't really like writing letters all that much."
"But you still wrote him one." She smiled at him reassuringly and setting her milk down, the glass half empty, she got to her feet. Picking up her work apron, she slid it over her neck and tied it around her waist. "He won't feel totally abandoned this time."
Ron watched her as she climbed up the step stool and began to scrub at the walls again. "So you're saying you don't want Harry to come early?"
"Of course not!" She used both of her hands as she rubbed the brush up and down, back and forth over the peeling wallpaper. "I'd love to have Harry here!"
"Well then that settles it." Ron had one more cookie and drank all of his milk before he went to join her, climbing up his own ladder. "We'll just have to start pestering them. With your brains and my loud, obnoxious voice I'm sure we can combine our powers to get what we want."
"Okay, okay." Hermione gave in quickly because really, she wouldn't mind having Harry here at Grimmauld Place as soon as possible. "Operation Potter starts tonight!"
****
The trip to Azkaban Fortress had been trickier than Draco had thought it would be. First involved was driving to a train station and then, a long train ride north. Another car trip was after that to the shore of England where a long strip of water stretched out before them. He could see Azkaban Fortress rising out from the ocean, a dark, gloomy island that made him shiver.
"Professor," Draco asked while they boarded a ship that had been, apparently, waiting for them. A Ministry wizard, one Draco recognized as being from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement from the badge on his chest, was waiting in it for them when they arrived. "Are there any Dementors still in Azkaban?"
"Not anymore," Snape replied, taking a seat on the boat. He looked funny, Draco decided, doing something like this. From the grim line of Snape's mouth, he gathered that his Potions Master didn't especially enjoy this form of transportation either. "After their betrayal they obviously can't be trusted. Especially not with our criminals."
The Ministry wizard snorted as Snape said that, giving Draco a mean look and a frown. Draco supposed it was obvious just who he was. He grew into the face and form of his father more and more every year.
"Then what does the Ministry do?" He asked although it was the stranger in the boat who answered.
"We compensate, of course! Even before that back stabbing we've been working on a way to take care of the kind of rubbish we house at Azkaban by ourselves. By now we've developed our own set of restraining spells." The Ministry wizard relaxed a bit once they were finally settled and the boat was moving on its own towards the distant fortress. "The true pride and joy of 'em being a charm that mimics the effects a real Dementor has on a wizard's mind." He tapped his temple with a finger before a cruel smile broke out over his face. "We save that, of course, for only our most special guests."
When they docked on the island, Draco was no longer sure he even wanted to be there in the first place. He was the last to get off the boat, stepping onto land with shaky legs. The wizard that had ridden with them to shore led the pair through a set of security gates that were opened one after the other by a guard posted in a watch tower above it. These had to be one of the new measures of security implemented that Draco remembered hearing about some time after his fifth year at Hogwarts had concluded.
Before the Dementor uprising there hadn't been any sort of security like this, there was no point in gates and guards, or even walls and cells when all of the prisoners were trapped in their own, slowly maddening minds. But that had been before and now, certain precautions had to be taken so that the wizarding world could sleep better at night, or so Draco assumed.
The closer they got to the actual doors the more Draco realized how massive Azkaban Fortress was. If he tried to look up to take all of it in at one time he became dizzy from the sheer height of it. There weren't very many windows either and those that were there were blocked off with grimy bars as thick as his arm.
At the moment, the front doors were held open and Draco could see into the prison itself, stone floors and stone walls. There were a few wizards mulling about, mostly behind a large L-shaped desk that looked out of place, rather new, and trapped behind a mesh of black gates. They had to stop before venturing further. At the door a wizard took their wands and then separated them to search them magically one at a time.
When they were allowed to enter, the gates were opened for them. At the front desk, their Ministry wizard was replaced by another, this one much more surly looking with a heavy face and a ring of keys. "Mr. Snape?" The wizard's eyes flickered from Severus down to Draco. The blonde felt the same shrewd glance from him that the other wizard had dolled out but this time he was ready and gave the man a sour glare of his own. "This way, then."
The two of them weren't allowed very far into the prison, as if to keep them from learning any of its secrets and how it was now run. Although a little information trickled down through the media, since the betrayal of the Dementors, just how the jail worked and the changes that had taken place were kept secret.
They were brought to a large room empty except for a table and two chairs and, stretching across the wall, a large, long mirror. "We've set it up so that they'll be able to communicate with you, although really I find it highly doubtful that they'll even notice. Just don't get your hopes up," Draco was warned. "Who do you want to see first? You have half an hour with both of them and after that you have to go."
Draco knew the answer to that instantly as he stood in front of the mirror, his hands in tight, sweating fists at his sides. "I want to see my mum."
When he had been arrested, Draco remembered that Lucius had tried to protect his wife. Initially, Narcissa had only been under suspicion while her husband was already convicted. The trouble had risen when the Ministry came to ransack Malfoy Manor. She had fought against them then, screamed and assaulted officers, hid important documents and artifacts. Before they had taken her away, Narcissa had told Draco she was going to make sure that the Ministry put her away in Azkaban as well. She told him she couldn't stand to be away from her husband. When he'd begged her not to, Narcissa insisted she wouldn't have been any help to him anyway.
She had sounded irrational to him then but in the end there hadn't been anything that he could do to change her mind and, anyway, he couldn't bring himself to begrudge her her desires no matter how much he didn't understand them.
"Alright, your mother it is then." And with a smirk that Draco didn't enjoy very much, the wizard turned towards the mirror and said, "Narcissa Malfoy." When he spoke her name, Draco watched as his reflection got all swirly and unfocused. All of his colors twisted together into a spiral like water going down into a drain. When everything suddenly snapped back into reality, it was as if he were peering into a window right into his mother's cell.
Of course the moment he saw her he wished that he hadn't. Reflexively, he took a step back from the mirror. He wasn't even sure if the thing reflected back at him was his mother at all. She was definitely a woman, some gaunt woman, crouched against a wall with her arms stretched out between her knees and her blonde head bent, still as stone, but not proud Narcissa Malfoy!
She was too thin, her limbs too thin and brittle looking, like sticks. Her white skin, from what bits of it showed from the short-sleeve and pants prisoner uniform she wore, were bruised and dirty, slashed with long, thin cuts now scabbed over and surrounded by angry patches of red irritation. Her hair was short too, a bristle of platinum blonde that had been shaved nearly completely off and was just regrowing.
"M-Mother," Draco began in a tentative voice, realization and shock finally settling into his face when the woman lifted her head to look at him with hazy eyes through the mirror. That was his mother's face, as much as he would have liked to believe some sort of mistake or prank had been pulled instead. "Mum!"
Before he could keep his composure and realize what he was doing, Draco had pressed his hands against the glass, his fingers resting against the smooth surface. He watched as her out of focus gaze pin pointed him. He watched as recollection filtered over her face and twisted her mouth. "My son," she said in a wavering voice that sounded like crushed autumn leaves. "There you are, mommy's precious baby boy." She lurched forward and Draco watched as she began to crawl to him on his hands and knees. He saw her sleep bruised eyes, her chewed on lips, and the scratches down the sides of her face.
She had been so beautiful before.
"You've finally come to me," She continued in her crooning voice. "I knew you would come eventually and I'm glad you did. You've finally come to me so I can end this once and for all." Her mouth twisted upwards into a curly, crooked smile and she rose to her feet, hunched over slightly, her arms hanging limply. "Finally here..." She rocked slightly back and forth.
"W-what?" Draco felt his heart clench in his chest as his nails scraped over the mirror. "M-mother...I'm...I'm sorry–I–I really mi-"
He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Narcissa spoke over him. "Finally here," she repeated her voice raising. "Finally here so I can kill you!" She launched herself at the mirror, hands outstretched to grab his neck and strangle him. "Finally I can kill you!"
Draco scrambled back, tripping over his own feet and onto the floor as his mother collided with the mirror. A wide crack snaked up and down along the mirror's surface (not on his side, but surely on hers) originating from a smear of blood left by her hands as they smashed into the glass. Two wizards were instantly on her, lacing their arms around her arms and around her waist, pulling her back.
Narcissa fought them, kicking and swinging her bloody hands, screaming in a way Draco thought only the portrait and Grimmauld Place could scream. The two wizards wrestled her to the ground on her face as she screamed, blood and drool dribbling from her mouth. One sat on her legs and held her hands behind her back while the other drew out his wand. "Stupefy!"
But before he could see anymore, the mirror went black. Draco stared as his own reflection slowly came back into view. He sat on the ground, his eyes wide in fear and all over he was shaking, trembling, and even as he sat up and wrapped his arms around himself, he couldn't make it stop.
"Do-"
Someone began but Draco wasn't sure who it was as he hollered above them. "No! I don't want to see anymore!" He pushed himself to his feet, not having realization enough to be surprised as Snape helped him. "I don't want to see anything else like this anymore!"
****
Hermione Granger was sitting on her back, stretched out on a blanket she and Ron had unrolled on the lawn of 12 Grimmauld place earlier that afternoon. They'd had a difficult morning of washing every wall on the upstairs floor, cleaning off cobwebs and years of dirt and dust but it had finally gotten done. Beside her, Ron was also stretched out, resting on his side with an arm curled under his head. She wasn't sure but she thought he was asleep.
She couldn't bring herself to take a nap herself, though. Instead, as she stared at the clouds and the limitless blue sky, she thought about Malfoy. She didn't know why he was so persistent in her mind lately, ever since she read the article in the Prophet about how his mother had been arrested. Even though she knew the fate that awaited Lucius Malfoy, to hear it would fall on Malfoy's mother as well was a morbid curiosity to her. She'd followed the Malfoy story since then.
Trials, imprisonment, lists and details of their crimes, their lives, the confiscation of their house, the auction of all of their belongings. She'd learned more about the Malfoys in the span of a few weeks than she thought she'd ever know about them. The Ministry was dealing with them quickly, as if it were eager to have them under its belt, an example of what would happen to show off and frighten others who thought about doing much the same as the Malfoys had done.
And then early that morning before she found out she'd be scrubbing walls, she had taken the time to dress up nicely, just to show Malfoy. Although the effort had been proven to be a waste, she had decided it was an effort she had better expend every day. If for any reason, to prove that mudbloods had the ability to look as nice as the purebloods could, even when simply relaxing around the house.
"Hermione," Ron said suddenly, his voice muffled by his arms. "What are you thinking about? Usually you talk and talk and we can't even get you to shut up."
"Oh, thanks, Ron." She gave him a shove and when he rolled around to face her, she scowled at him. "You know, I'm really glad to have friends like you. It really helps me to stay good and confused when it comes to defining an enemy!"
Ron smiled at her, propping himself up on an elbow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Forget it! I was just thinking about Malfoy," She admitted and ignored the way Ron's face fell. "He was writing a letter to his parents this morning, Ron," She continued, to explain herself. "It was possibly one of the saddest things I've ever seen in my life."
"What?" Ron gave her a flat look and then made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and flopped onto his back. "What's that supposed to mean? The saddest thing you ever saw? Please! Hermione, you shouldn't feel sorry for him. He's getting everything he deserves!"
"That's not true," She cried out, sitting up straight. "Ron, how can you say that? Sure he's been a real prat all this time but his entire family has been torn apart. He's all alone now without anyone to look after him!"
"He's sixteen years old." Ron droned, putting his hands over his eyes and rubbing the sleep from them. He couldn't believe he was hearing this! "He can take care of himself."
"Oh, can he!" Hermione rounded on him as the red head sat up. "You're sixteen too, Ron, do you think you could take care of yourself? You can't even match your shirt to your trousers without help, you know! I'm sixteen too. I couldn't take care of myself–I'd be afraid to be alone, especially at a time like this."
"Oh, please." Ron sighed again, rising onto his knees. "Hermione, he doesn't have anything to worry about, he's not alone, if he's sad and needs a friend–boo hoo, the poor sod–I'm sure he can find some Death Eater to give him a hug and a lollipop! Slime like that always takes care of their own and Malfoy, to them, is a promising baby slime."
"If that were true why is he even here, then? If the other Death Eaters kept such a close watch on him why didn't Mrs. Malfoy or Mr. Malfoy send Draco away to be with one of them if they knew this kind of trouble was going to happen to their family? They had to know it was going to happen too, especially after Mr. Malfoy was caught at the Department of Mysteries."
"I don't know, Hermione, maybe it's because they're all idiots like Crabbe and Goyle, how am I supposed to know!" He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled lightly at her again. "You're just getting worked up. I know you feel like you have to protect everyone in the world who can't protect themselves but Draco Malfoy isn't a house elf."
Hermione watched him for a moment, brown eyes earnest and worried before she gave in. It wasn't something worth arguing about. "I guess maybe you're right about that, at least."
"Straight!" he replied. "Although, he'd probably look pretty funny running around in nothing but a pillow case and slamming his fingers in doors, huh?"
Even though she was doing her best to be serious, Hermione couldn't keep herself from laughing at the picture that formed in her mind. "It would be hilarious," she agreed, but before she could give Malfoy in a pillow case any serious thought, Ron leaned forward suddenly and kissed her.
Almost every day since he was told his father and mother would be placed in Azkaban for their activities with the Dark Lord, Draco had sent them letters. It was an important part of his day, usually right before breakfast, when he sat down with parchment and quill and wrote at least one page.
He was doing so now in a sunny sitting room of the house, curled up in a relaxed way around an arm of a sofa as wide as his whole body. His parchment perched on the soft, cushy leather he tickled the feathers of his quill over his lips as contemplated what he'd wrote.
He wasn't even sure if his parents were getting his mail. Before, if the Dementors had still been in power, he would have been positive that nothing would ever get through to his parents there. But after their uprising earlier this year, after they'd freed all of those loyal Death Eaters, the Ministry had taken over again. He wasn't sure if there were any Dementors left in the fortress anymore, but he sincerely hoped, for the sake of his mother and father, that there weren't.
Moving the quill away from his lips he dotted a period and then sighed, curling his bare feet against the edge of the sofa. This got more and more difficult every time he wrote. By now, he was wondering if his parents could even read letters anymore. Maybe there wasn't anything left in Azkaban of his parents at all.
He was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He didn't need to glance away from his letter as he began to write again to know who it was. "What is it, Granger?"
"Professor Snape is here to see you." She didn't sound as annoyed with having to play the part of a messenger as Draco imagined he would have been if he had been given the same task.
"I see." He casually lifted a hand to wave her away as if she were one of his house elves. Although maybe, he wondered, she'd like that sort of thing. She was so obsessed with the shriveled little buggers, wasn't she?
"Uhm, Malfoy?" He lifted his eyes to her finally as she moved closer, even if it was just a step. "What are you doing?"
"I'm writing a letter, Granger." He rolled his eyes and glanced back down to his paper. At this time of day and with this task, he couldn't dredge up the necessary scathing wit to deal with her. He was much more occupied by other thoughts, ones that were, for once, important.
"Well I think that's rather obvious." He could see Hermione from the corner of his eye as she lifted her arms to put them on her hips, thought better of the aggressive pose, and lowered them to her sides again. "Who are you writing to?"
Draco managed an annoyed sigh and looked up at her. "What–" His voice trailed off as he noticed her then. She seemed dressed up for something. She wore a black skirt that went down to her knees and a maroon sweater. She'd pulled her wavy hair back out of her face and he fancied he saw a bit of color that wasn't normally there on her lips. "Who do you think I'd be writing to, Granger? Really, I thought you were supposed to be the smart little pig."
"So," She began and finally gave in, putting her hands on her hips. Draco smirked lazily, uncurling one leg from beneath him and lowering it to rest flat on the floor. "You're writing to your parents then?" Hermione finally finished.
"Mm." He nodded once.
"Well." It seemed to strike something in the girl upon learning this little bit of information. Draco saw her eyes soften just slightly as she lowered her hands, turning around to leave the room. "He's waiting for you in the kitchen." And she left.
Draco didn't watch her go, glancing back to his letter. "I'll finish you later I suppose, mum." He let the parchment roll up and stood. Setting his ink and quill on a nearby table, he took his letter with him as he left the sitting room and went into the kitchen.
He could hear Lupin and Mr. Weasley already discussing something between themselves from the same room. "We can send out a small escort like last year to collect him. Even if You-Know-Who is plotting something, another inside source like Severus suggests, we have to remember that Harry is still just a boy who needs to attend school. He needs to graduate."
"It's settled then. Two weeks before the children go back to school we'll have the Order fetch Harry and bring him here. We'll have one day in Diagon Alley to get all the children's things, we don't have to worry about him trying anything there."
"And then to Hogwarts. A safer location couldn't be found."
"I sincerely hope you didn't drag me all the way in here to talk about bloody Potter," Draco announced as he stepped into the kitchen.
Professor Snape gave him a narrowed glare. "Please, Mr. Malfoy, if you would be so kind, I believe we would like nothing more than for you to spare us your childish rhetoric."
Professor Snape had such a great sense of humor. Draco glanced at the two men, Mr. Weasley and Lupin, before he turned his attention fully to the greasy haired Potions Master. "You wanted to see me?"
"I'm here to take you away instead," He replied, rising to his feet. He seemed to want to get going right away.
"Take me away? Finally, it's about time. Where are we going?" He could pack his things in an instant! All he needed to do was close and lock his trunk lid and haul it downstairs. He'd even be sure to make lots of noise to wake up the portraits. He wanted to leave with a grand hurrah!
Professor Snape, as he so loved to do, was quick to squash childish dreams. "To see your parents, naturally, just like you've been begging me since I brought you here."
Draco couldn't hide his disappointment right away, a bit of it leaked out onto his face before he realized what Snape had said. "My parents? Really? So you actually did read my mail. And here, without receiving any reply, I thought I had to keep sending in case they kept getting misdirected."
As usual, Snape didn't look overly amused. "Put on some shoes quickly, I would like to get this done with as soon as possible."
****
"Hey, guess what your mother just told me!" Hermione exclaimed as she rejoined Ron in the upstairs hall. Her house mate was currently standing on a stepping ladder, scrubbing the corner where the ceiling met the wall. This was their chore today, to clean all of the walls up here.
Ron was glad to see her though, it meant they could take a break! Especially since she was holding a tray of cookies and two glasses of milk. "What? She decided she's going to let us do this by magic?"
"What? No. It's better this way, really, Ron. By hand, we can make sure everything's done perfectly. Besides, we're not allowed to use magic during break, you know that." She set the tray on an open patch of hallway and sat next to it, situating her skirt into place at her knees.
"I know, I know." Ron rolled his eyes before he joined her and promptly helped himself. The cookies were still warm, his favorite way to enjoy them. "What's up?"
"It's Harry!" Hermione announced gleefully. "They're going to fetch him in a little while, next month I think! They're going to bring him here to stay for a few weeks before school starts."
"In a month! Hermione." Ron looked suddenly desperate, and funny with chocolate smudged on the corner of his mouth. "Are you serious? That's like forever away! Why can't they get him here sooner? It'd be so much easier to deal with Malfoy if he were here now instead of a month from now!"
"He's not that difficult to deal with, you know." Hermione took a bite of her cookie, being careful not to get any crumbs on her sweater. "If you stay out of his way, he'll stay out of yours, right? At least that's what it seems like. He hasn't been a pest since the fight in the kitchen, and that was five days ago."
Ron didn't look impressed. "His very presence is something to deal with. I can't even believe he's here, couldn't the Ministry find some better place to stick that rat? How come we have to put up with him all the time?" When Hermione gave him one of her 'you are such a wimp' looks, he added, "and besides. You remember how it was last time when we waited so long to save Harry from that terrible family of his. He was so torked that we hadn't come sooner! He yelled at us for like half an hour!"
"He sure was cranky, wasn't he?" Hermione knew she shouldn't laugh but she couldn't help it. It had been frightening at the time, sure, but now when she could clearly remember how red his face was gotten and how loud he had become, hollering and yelling. He must have been really hurt. "Poor Harry." Still giggling, she finished her cookie and took a drink of her milk. "He won't be like that this time, Ron, I've already sent him some letters. You have too, haven't you?"
"Er...one, I think. I dunno, I don't really like writing letters all that much."
"But you still wrote him one." She smiled at him reassuringly and setting her milk down, the glass half empty, she got to her feet. Picking up her work apron, she slid it over her neck and tied it around her waist. "He won't feel totally abandoned this time."
Ron watched her as she climbed up the step stool and began to scrub at the walls again. "So you're saying you don't want Harry to come early?"
"Of course not!" She used both of her hands as she rubbed the brush up and down, back and forth over the peeling wallpaper. "I'd love to have Harry here!"
"Well then that settles it." Ron had one more cookie and drank all of his milk before he went to join her, climbing up his own ladder. "We'll just have to start pestering them. With your brains and my loud, obnoxious voice I'm sure we can combine our powers to get what we want."
"Okay, okay." Hermione gave in quickly because really, she wouldn't mind having Harry here at Grimmauld Place as soon as possible. "Operation Potter starts tonight!"
****
The trip to Azkaban Fortress had been trickier than Draco had thought it would be. First involved was driving to a train station and then, a long train ride north. Another car trip was after that to the shore of England where a long strip of water stretched out before them. He could see Azkaban Fortress rising out from the ocean, a dark, gloomy island that made him shiver.
"Professor," Draco asked while they boarded a ship that had been, apparently, waiting for them. A Ministry wizard, one Draco recognized as being from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement from the badge on his chest, was waiting in it for them when they arrived. "Are there any Dementors still in Azkaban?"
"Not anymore," Snape replied, taking a seat on the boat. He looked funny, Draco decided, doing something like this. From the grim line of Snape's mouth, he gathered that his Potions Master didn't especially enjoy this form of transportation either. "After their betrayal they obviously can't be trusted. Especially not with our criminals."
The Ministry wizard snorted as Snape said that, giving Draco a mean look and a frown. Draco supposed it was obvious just who he was. He grew into the face and form of his father more and more every year.
"Then what does the Ministry do?" He asked although it was the stranger in the boat who answered.
"We compensate, of course! Even before that back stabbing we've been working on a way to take care of the kind of rubbish we house at Azkaban by ourselves. By now we've developed our own set of restraining spells." The Ministry wizard relaxed a bit once they were finally settled and the boat was moving on its own towards the distant fortress. "The true pride and joy of 'em being a charm that mimics the effects a real Dementor has on a wizard's mind." He tapped his temple with a finger before a cruel smile broke out over his face. "We save that, of course, for only our most special guests."
When they docked on the island, Draco was no longer sure he even wanted to be there in the first place. He was the last to get off the boat, stepping onto land with shaky legs. The wizard that had ridden with them to shore led the pair through a set of security gates that were opened one after the other by a guard posted in a watch tower above it. These had to be one of the new measures of security implemented that Draco remembered hearing about some time after his fifth year at Hogwarts had concluded.
Before the Dementor uprising there hadn't been any sort of security like this, there was no point in gates and guards, or even walls and cells when all of the prisoners were trapped in their own, slowly maddening minds. But that had been before and now, certain precautions had to be taken so that the wizarding world could sleep better at night, or so Draco assumed.
The closer they got to the actual doors the more Draco realized how massive Azkaban Fortress was. If he tried to look up to take all of it in at one time he became dizzy from the sheer height of it. There weren't very many windows either and those that were there were blocked off with grimy bars as thick as his arm.
At the moment, the front doors were held open and Draco could see into the prison itself, stone floors and stone walls. There were a few wizards mulling about, mostly behind a large L-shaped desk that looked out of place, rather new, and trapped behind a mesh of black gates. They had to stop before venturing further. At the door a wizard took their wands and then separated them to search them magically one at a time.
When they were allowed to enter, the gates were opened for them. At the front desk, their Ministry wizard was replaced by another, this one much more surly looking with a heavy face and a ring of keys. "Mr. Snape?" The wizard's eyes flickered from Severus down to Draco. The blonde felt the same shrewd glance from him that the other wizard had dolled out but this time he was ready and gave the man a sour glare of his own. "This way, then."
The two of them weren't allowed very far into the prison, as if to keep them from learning any of its secrets and how it was now run. Although a little information trickled down through the media, since the betrayal of the Dementors, just how the jail worked and the changes that had taken place were kept secret.
They were brought to a large room empty except for a table and two chairs and, stretching across the wall, a large, long mirror. "We've set it up so that they'll be able to communicate with you, although really I find it highly doubtful that they'll even notice. Just don't get your hopes up," Draco was warned. "Who do you want to see first? You have half an hour with both of them and after that you have to go."
Draco knew the answer to that instantly as he stood in front of the mirror, his hands in tight, sweating fists at his sides. "I want to see my mum."
When he had been arrested, Draco remembered that Lucius had tried to protect his wife. Initially, Narcissa had only been under suspicion while her husband was already convicted. The trouble had risen when the Ministry came to ransack Malfoy Manor. She had fought against them then, screamed and assaulted officers, hid important documents and artifacts. Before they had taken her away, Narcissa had told Draco she was going to make sure that the Ministry put her away in Azkaban as well. She told him she couldn't stand to be away from her husband. When he'd begged her not to, Narcissa insisted she wouldn't have been any help to him anyway.
She had sounded irrational to him then but in the end there hadn't been anything that he could do to change her mind and, anyway, he couldn't bring himself to begrudge her her desires no matter how much he didn't understand them.
"Alright, your mother it is then." And with a smirk that Draco didn't enjoy very much, the wizard turned towards the mirror and said, "Narcissa Malfoy." When he spoke her name, Draco watched as his reflection got all swirly and unfocused. All of his colors twisted together into a spiral like water going down into a drain. When everything suddenly snapped back into reality, it was as if he were peering into a window right into his mother's cell.
Of course the moment he saw her he wished that he hadn't. Reflexively, he took a step back from the mirror. He wasn't even sure if the thing reflected back at him was his mother at all. She was definitely a woman, some gaunt woman, crouched against a wall with her arms stretched out between her knees and her blonde head bent, still as stone, but not proud Narcissa Malfoy!
She was too thin, her limbs too thin and brittle looking, like sticks. Her white skin, from what bits of it showed from the short-sleeve and pants prisoner uniform she wore, were bruised and dirty, slashed with long, thin cuts now scabbed over and surrounded by angry patches of red irritation. Her hair was short too, a bristle of platinum blonde that had been shaved nearly completely off and was just regrowing.
"M-Mother," Draco began in a tentative voice, realization and shock finally settling into his face when the woman lifted her head to look at him with hazy eyes through the mirror. That was his mother's face, as much as he would have liked to believe some sort of mistake or prank had been pulled instead. "Mum!"
Before he could keep his composure and realize what he was doing, Draco had pressed his hands against the glass, his fingers resting against the smooth surface. He watched as her out of focus gaze pin pointed him. He watched as recollection filtered over her face and twisted her mouth. "My son," she said in a wavering voice that sounded like crushed autumn leaves. "There you are, mommy's precious baby boy." She lurched forward and Draco watched as she began to crawl to him on his hands and knees. He saw her sleep bruised eyes, her chewed on lips, and the scratches down the sides of her face.
She had been so beautiful before.
"You've finally come to me," She continued in her crooning voice. "I knew you would come eventually and I'm glad you did. You've finally come to me so I can end this once and for all." Her mouth twisted upwards into a curly, crooked smile and she rose to her feet, hunched over slightly, her arms hanging limply. "Finally here..." She rocked slightly back and forth.
"W-what?" Draco felt his heart clench in his chest as his nails scraped over the mirror. "M-mother...I'm...I'm sorry–I–I really mi-"
He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Narcissa spoke over him. "Finally here," she repeated her voice raising. "Finally here so I can kill you!" She launched herself at the mirror, hands outstretched to grab his neck and strangle him. "Finally I can kill you!"
Draco scrambled back, tripping over his own feet and onto the floor as his mother collided with the mirror. A wide crack snaked up and down along the mirror's surface (not on his side, but surely on hers) originating from a smear of blood left by her hands as they smashed into the glass. Two wizards were instantly on her, lacing their arms around her arms and around her waist, pulling her back.
Narcissa fought them, kicking and swinging her bloody hands, screaming in a way Draco thought only the portrait and Grimmauld Place could scream. The two wizards wrestled her to the ground on her face as she screamed, blood and drool dribbling from her mouth. One sat on her legs and held her hands behind her back while the other drew out his wand. "Stupefy!"
But before he could see anymore, the mirror went black. Draco stared as his own reflection slowly came back into view. He sat on the ground, his eyes wide in fear and all over he was shaking, trembling, and even as he sat up and wrapped his arms around himself, he couldn't make it stop.
"Do-"
Someone began but Draco wasn't sure who it was as he hollered above them. "No! I don't want to see anymore!" He pushed himself to his feet, not having realization enough to be surprised as Snape helped him. "I don't want to see anything else like this anymore!"
****
Hermione Granger was sitting on her back, stretched out on a blanket she and Ron had unrolled on the lawn of 12 Grimmauld place earlier that afternoon. They'd had a difficult morning of washing every wall on the upstairs floor, cleaning off cobwebs and years of dirt and dust but it had finally gotten done. Beside her, Ron was also stretched out, resting on his side with an arm curled under his head. She wasn't sure but she thought he was asleep.
She couldn't bring herself to take a nap herself, though. Instead, as she stared at the clouds and the limitless blue sky, she thought about Malfoy. She didn't know why he was so persistent in her mind lately, ever since she read the article in the Prophet about how his mother had been arrested. Even though she knew the fate that awaited Lucius Malfoy, to hear it would fall on Malfoy's mother as well was a morbid curiosity to her. She'd followed the Malfoy story since then.
Trials, imprisonment, lists and details of their crimes, their lives, the confiscation of their house, the auction of all of their belongings. She'd learned more about the Malfoys in the span of a few weeks than she thought she'd ever know about them. The Ministry was dealing with them quickly, as if it were eager to have them under its belt, an example of what would happen to show off and frighten others who thought about doing much the same as the Malfoys had done.
And then early that morning before she found out she'd be scrubbing walls, she had taken the time to dress up nicely, just to show Malfoy. Although the effort had been proven to be a waste, she had decided it was an effort she had better expend every day. If for any reason, to prove that mudbloods had the ability to look as nice as the purebloods could, even when simply relaxing around the house.
"Hermione," Ron said suddenly, his voice muffled by his arms. "What are you thinking about? Usually you talk and talk and we can't even get you to shut up."
"Oh, thanks, Ron." She gave him a shove and when he rolled around to face her, she scowled at him. "You know, I'm really glad to have friends like you. It really helps me to stay good and confused when it comes to defining an enemy!"
Ron smiled at her, propping himself up on an elbow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Forget it! I was just thinking about Malfoy," She admitted and ignored the way Ron's face fell. "He was writing a letter to his parents this morning, Ron," She continued, to explain herself. "It was possibly one of the saddest things I've ever seen in my life."
"What?" Ron gave her a flat look and then made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and flopped onto his back. "What's that supposed to mean? The saddest thing you ever saw? Please! Hermione, you shouldn't feel sorry for him. He's getting everything he deserves!"
"That's not true," She cried out, sitting up straight. "Ron, how can you say that? Sure he's been a real prat all this time but his entire family has been torn apart. He's all alone now without anyone to look after him!"
"He's sixteen years old." Ron droned, putting his hands over his eyes and rubbing the sleep from them. He couldn't believe he was hearing this! "He can take care of himself."
"Oh, can he!" Hermione rounded on him as the red head sat up. "You're sixteen too, Ron, do you think you could take care of yourself? You can't even match your shirt to your trousers without help, you know! I'm sixteen too. I couldn't take care of myself–I'd be afraid to be alone, especially at a time like this."
"Oh, please." Ron sighed again, rising onto his knees. "Hermione, he doesn't have anything to worry about, he's not alone, if he's sad and needs a friend–boo hoo, the poor sod–I'm sure he can find some Death Eater to give him a hug and a lollipop! Slime like that always takes care of their own and Malfoy, to them, is a promising baby slime."
"If that were true why is he even here, then? If the other Death Eaters kept such a close watch on him why didn't Mrs. Malfoy or Mr. Malfoy send Draco away to be with one of them if they knew this kind of trouble was going to happen to their family? They had to know it was going to happen too, especially after Mr. Malfoy was caught at the Department of Mysteries."
"I don't know, Hermione, maybe it's because they're all idiots like Crabbe and Goyle, how am I supposed to know!" He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled lightly at her again. "You're just getting worked up. I know you feel like you have to protect everyone in the world who can't protect themselves but Draco Malfoy isn't a house elf."
Hermione watched him for a moment, brown eyes earnest and worried before she gave in. It wasn't something worth arguing about. "I guess maybe you're right about that, at least."
"Straight!" he replied. "Although, he'd probably look pretty funny running around in nothing but a pillow case and slamming his fingers in doors, huh?"
Even though she was doing her best to be serious, Hermione couldn't keep herself from laughing at the picture that formed in her mind. "It would be hilarious," she agreed, but before she could give Malfoy in a pillow case any serious thought, Ron leaned forward suddenly and kissed her.