A/N: I'm ba-aack... New Orleans was wonderful, thanks. Unfortunately, it didn't leave much time for writing *sobs*.
Disclaimer: Rowling owns all. I am but a poor, flattering fangirl - emphasis on poor. Please, please don't sue!
Chapter 6
I'd imagined the visitors center as being a lot like a cell: dank and cold and made of ancient, dark stone, with distinctly violent-looking guards positioned around the walls, glaring at me.
The room I'm standing in fits all of these descriptions perfectly.
I don't get much more of a chance to form impressions, because a moment later I'm accosted for the second time this morning, though now it's definitely not an owl. The man grabbing me by the shoulders is larger than any bird could ever hope to be, and decidedly less fluffy.
"Right. Empty yeh pockets. And I don't want any trouble, eh?"
"Um."
I nod weakly, and start to obey. Then I remember the point of the week's activities. With my best cocky, knowing smirk, I dutifully reach into my robe and pull out five successive handfuls of cash.
Things go considerably faster after that.
I manage to breeze by most of the searches, but I still have to do the paperwork. It takes me almost an hour and at least ten rolls of parchment to complete the First Time Visitors Questionnaire. Still, it's not nearly as bad as it could have been, I think as I stand and stretch at last. Father always taught me that you don't answer anything you don't absolutely have to, and to not give out information unless you're sure they know it already. People tend to overlook unfilled blanks, if you have enough money to dispense. Which, for the first time in a while, I do.
I hand the stack of parchment rolls to the guard who comes to collect them. He's wearing grey uniform robes with the Azkaban seal on his sleeve. I remember my dream and shudder.
"A-HEM."
I hand him another galleon, and wait a minute as he conveniently misses the blanks.
"Alright then. Come this way."
He puts one massive hand on my shoulder and steers me away, out the tiny, magically sealed door. It doesn't have any kind of lock or handle - he uses a special charm, muttering something I can't make out, to open it. Then I'm shoved into a dank, airless passageway, with more nameless, ugly guards hulking on either side. Charming decorators, alright. I have to pay my way through several more searches before we reach the actual cells, and start to worry that my money is going to run out before I get anywhere near Father. I suspect the main point of all this is to pay his personal guards to leave the room, or something like that. That's what will take the most cash. Cash that, by the time we reach C-block, I'm worried I might not have.
The actual prison is about the most horrible place I have ever been in my life. After only a minute or two of traveling, I shut my eyes, suddenly glad that I'm being led along so forcefully, because it means I don't have to look where I'm going. Not like it would be much easier with my eyes open - the place is so dark I can barely see my feet. But at least it hides the shadowy figures crouching behind the thick bars of their cells, or reaching out a filthy hand. Of course, blocking off one sense only makes the others stronger; I've now got a front row seat for the howls and screams and revolting curses, the smells the death and mold...
I decide to open my eyes, after all. This may well be a mistake, because the first thing I see is the glass console from my nightmare. Before I can stop myself, I check my reflection in the glass... I see nothing but myself, and sigh. Then I realize the wizard behind it is staring at me expectantly. I must have missed something.
"Er, excuse me?"
"What's your NAME, boy?" The man talks very slowly and clearly. He obviously doesn't think I'm terribly bright.
"Draco Malfoy."
The man behind the glass stares at me again. I can feel the other guard's grip on my shoulder tighten, just a little. They must know Father.
The glass-booth wizard nods, very slowly. Then he clears his throat, looking a bit less tough than before.
"Righ'. Lead 'im through, go on!"
I manage to sneer at him politely as we head through the archway to C-block, and raise my chin a fraction higher. I AM still a Malfoy, after all. And we command respect in every situation.
My good mood, unfortunately, doesn't last very long. I only need to take a few steps onto it to know what C-block really is: the sick ward. Quickly, I change my opinion of B-block being the worst place in the world. At least those prisoners were semi-healthy, and making noise. Terrible noise, yes, but anything would be better than the unnatural silence that greets me in this section. It gives you the feeling that, even if the prisoners here shouted and moaned and sobbed, everything would still be dead. Including you. I swallow uneasily.
Aside from the weird silence, though, this place almost looks normal. Someone seeing it for the first time, not knowing where they were, would probably mistake it for another building altogether. It's certainly newer than the rest of Azkaban - the bricks are all the same shape and size, and have crumbled significantly less. I suppose it took a while for the idea of taking care of prisoners to occur to the management. Not that they're doing such a bang-up job - most of the cells we're passing are empty. Apparently, "sick" is synonymous with "may as well be dead" in the Azkaban vocabulary. Well, except for Father. I HOPE....
We get near the end of the long main hallway at last, and pass some cells that are actually occupied, though I can't make myself look at the prisoners inside them. I'm too worried that I'll see someone I'd recognize. My father has connections, quite a few of which were thrown in here at the same time he was.
I barely have time to finish that thought when a living example rounds the corner ahead of me. The hair and eyes are different, and he's acquired a real or staged limp, but I'd recognize that expression anywhere - the same lips-down, teeth-bared, eyebrows-up look of snarling disapproval that scared me into silence at least once a week throughout my whole childhood, when he came to talk business with Father. My father's old associate, Jeffrey Moon, is heading towards me. I stop dead. This might have made the guard suspicious, but he stops, too, and makes a kind of awkward salute.
"G'Morning, Doctor Moon, sir."
Moon reaches us, and pauses. He nods carelessly to the guard, but his eyes are on me. I can read his glance like the Daily Prophet. "Wait", it says. I try to look natural. Then he looks away, back at the guard, who didn't notice anything.
"Good morning, Addel. Keeping busy?" He's picked up a fake accent, but it's definitely the same reedy, oil-filled voice I remember.
"Oh, uh, yessir. Just taking this young scoundrel-" he jerks on my arm "-on a graveyard visit, if yeh follow me, sir."
Now Moon stares at me dead-on, and looks me over with an expression that clearly shows he's never seen me before in his life. He always was a good actor.
"Well WELL, boy. I dare guess who you're related to."
"Just what I thought, Doctor." My guard - Addel? - puffs out a brawny chest. "He's the mirror image of his father, inee?" He laughs, remarkably like Peeves. "Let's hope he turns out a bit better, righ'?"
"Indeed." Moon pauses a second, and glances around himself with one hand on his forehead, every inch the ordinary, forgetful doctor.
"Excuse me, but I seem to have left my clipboard somewhere back there... I'll take this one the rest of the way, if you'd like."
Addel lets go of me instantly. Either he admires Moon, or is afraid of him. It's usually hard to tell.
"Right. Thank you, Addel. See you around."
My guard takes it as a dismissal, and leaves. Besides some barely-conscious prisoners, I'm alone with Moon in the hallway. Still, he leans in close to talk to me.
"Come on. MOVE. We have to make this look convincing."
I start walking, obediently. There are so many things I want to ask him, my mouth has trouble getting one out first. Moon must've read the expression on my face, anyway, because he chuckles like a stagnant lake.
"Did you recognize me?" Without leaving time for me to answer, he goes on. "Probably, I expect. But that's not a problem. The best thing about working behind the scenes, Draco. A clean getaway. I worked for years to keep my face out of the papers, my name off the front page... and now, here I am, doing service for the Master, under their filthy mudblooded noses. I've made it so they don't suspect a thing." I'm worried now. The hall that felt so deserted seconds ago now seems like it's listening to every word Moon says. What about security measures? He's saying way, WAY too much, and he's still going on without pause. Father once said that Moon was intelligent, until he got a chance to brag.
"And the best thing," he continues, "is that I didn't even have to change my name. Just altered the spelling, and drew up a nice medical license. I haven't a clue what I'm doing, professionally, but I'm a good enough actor that they never even notice. Not as though they pay much attention to the sick here, anyway. And-"
I open my mouth, thinking I'll make him shut up myself, before he gets us both permanent accomodations, but as we turn another corner he clams up by himself. Instantly, I see why. We've started down another, shorter, dead-ended hallway. There are only a couple of cells on each side, all of which I can see are empty. But the last cell on the right must be occupied, because it's flanked by the two biggest guards I've seen yet. Moon straightens and clears his throat nervously as we head towards it. I do, too. My father usually has that effect on people.
"Hello, Mister Malfoy," says Moon in a distant, professional voice. "You have a visitor."
~*~
So, there you have it. I'm leaving ya'll in suspense for yet another week. *winces at the gathering torches and pitchforks* I'm really sorry - I SWEAR I didn't mean to this time. I actually meant for this chapter to cover everything I've been building up to, aka Draco's conversation with his father. But I've been really busy and tired and the like and, honestly, I don't know what's going to happen in the next chapter. Seriously. I have no more idea what Lucius & Draco are going to say to each other than you do. Probably less. Way less.
What I'm saying is... I'm stuck. I've got several ideas for directions to go with this story, but I don't know which one of them to pick, or if any will pan out in an even semi-believable way, and, generally, I'm confused. So, does anybody out there have suggestions? I'll love you all if you do. I'm not exactly saying I'll use them, but I'll love you all. Now, with that said, does anyone want to help poor lil' Draco out?
Draco: *makes puppy face* Pleeease?
Now how can you argue with THAT? Come on - drop me a line, send writer's block bashing aid and FAST.
Love!
Kitty.
REVIEWERS (!)
orangepenguin - what can I say? N.O. was the BEST!!!! Moldy dearest, you know more people than me; will you help spread the word that I need sugestions? Shnuggles & thanks!
ps - they honored every vow, and where are they now...? Tee-hee.
Laughing Dragoness - woot! you're the greatest reviewer EVER. I bow to thee, oh gret Queen of the Universe (or was it Empress..? sorry!) Love forever from Kitty!
Disclaimer: Rowling owns all. I am but a poor, flattering fangirl - emphasis on poor. Please, please don't sue!
Chapter 6
I'd imagined the visitors center as being a lot like a cell: dank and cold and made of ancient, dark stone, with distinctly violent-looking guards positioned around the walls, glaring at me.
The room I'm standing in fits all of these descriptions perfectly.
I don't get much more of a chance to form impressions, because a moment later I'm accosted for the second time this morning, though now it's definitely not an owl. The man grabbing me by the shoulders is larger than any bird could ever hope to be, and decidedly less fluffy.
"Right. Empty yeh pockets. And I don't want any trouble, eh?"
"Um."
I nod weakly, and start to obey. Then I remember the point of the week's activities. With my best cocky, knowing smirk, I dutifully reach into my robe and pull out five successive handfuls of cash.
Things go considerably faster after that.
I manage to breeze by most of the searches, but I still have to do the paperwork. It takes me almost an hour and at least ten rolls of parchment to complete the First Time Visitors Questionnaire. Still, it's not nearly as bad as it could have been, I think as I stand and stretch at last. Father always taught me that you don't answer anything you don't absolutely have to, and to not give out information unless you're sure they know it already. People tend to overlook unfilled blanks, if you have enough money to dispense. Which, for the first time in a while, I do.
I hand the stack of parchment rolls to the guard who comes to collect them. He's wearing grey uniform robes with the Azkaban seal on his sleeve. I remember my dream and shudder.
"A-HEM."
I hand him another galleon, and wait a minute as he conveniently misses the blanks.
"Alright then. Come this way."
He puts one massive hand on my shoulder and steers me away, out the tiny, magically sealed door. It doesn't have any kind of lock or handle - he uses a special charm, muttering something I can't make out, to open it. Then I'm shoved into a dank, airless passageway, with more nameless, ugly guards hulking on either side. Charming decorators, alright. I have to pay my way through several more searches before we reach the actual cells, and start to worry that my money is going to run out before I get anywhere near Father. I suspect the main point of all this is to pay his personal guards to leave the room, or something like that. That's what will take the most cash. Cash that, by the time we reach C-block, I'm worried I might not have.
The actual prison is about the most horrible place I have ever been in my life. After only a minute or two of traveling, I shut my eyes, suddenly glad that I'm being led along so forcefully, because it means I don't have to look where I'm going. Not like it would be much easier with my eyes open - the place is so dark I can barely see my feet. But at least it hides the shadowy figures crouching behind the thick bars of their cells, or reaching out a filthy hand. Of course, blocking off one sense only makes the others stronger; I've now got a front row seat for the howls and screams and revolting curses, the smells the death and mold...
I decide to open my eyes, after all. This may well be a mistake, because the first thing I see is the glass console from my nightmare. Before I can stop myself, I check my reflection in the glass... I see nothing but myself, and sigh. Then I realize the wizard behind it is staring at me expectantly. I must have missed something.
"Er, excuse me?"
"What's your NAME, boy?" The man talks very slowly and clearly. He obviously doesn't think I'm terribly bright.
"Draco Malfoy."
The man behind the glass stares at me again. I can feel the other guard's grip on my shoulder tighten, just a little. They must know Father.
The glass-booth wizard nods, very slowly. Then he clears his throat, looking a bit less tough than before.
"Righ'. Lead 'im through, go on!"
I manage to sneer at him politely as we head through the archway to C-block, and raise my chin a fraction higher. I AM still a Malfoy, after all. And we command respect in every situation.
My good mood, unfortunately, doesn't last very long. I only need to take a few steps onto it to know what C-block really is: the sick ward. Quickly, I change my opinion of B-block being the worst place in the world. At least those prisoners were semi-healthy, and making noise. Terrible noise, yes, but anything would be better than the unnatural silence that greets me in this section. It gives you the feeling that, even if the prisoners here shouted and moaned and sobbed, everything would still be dead. Including you. I swallow uneasily.
Aside from the weird silence, though, this place almost looks normal. Someone seeing it for the first time, not knowing where they were, would probably mistake it for another building altogether. It's certainly newer than the rest of Azkaban - the bricks are all the same shape and size, and have crumbled significantly less. I suppose it took a while for the idea of taking care of prisoners to occur to the management. Not that they're doing such a bang-up job - most of the cells we're passing are empty. Apparently, "sick" is synonymous with "may as well be dead" in the Azkaban vocabulary. Well, except for Father. I HOPE....
We get near the end of the long main hallway at last, and pass some cells that are actually occupied, though I can't make myself look at the prisoners inside them. I'm too worried that I'll see someone I'd recognize. My father has connections, quite a few of which were thrown in here at the same time he was.
I barely have time to finish that thought when a living example rounds the corner ahead of me. The hair and eyes are different, and he's acquired a real or staged limp, but I'd recognize that expression anywhere - the same lips-down, teeth-bared, eyebrows-up look of snarling disapproval that scared me into silence at least once a week throughout my whole childhood, when he came to talk business with Father. My father's old associate, Jeffrey Moon, is heading towards me. I stop dead. This might have made the guard suspicious, but he stops, too, and makes a kind of awkward salute.
"G'Morning, Doctor Moon, sir."
Moon reaches us, and pauses. He nods carelessly to the guard, but his eyes are on me. I can read his glance like the Daily Prophet. "Wait", it says. I try to look natural. Then he looks away, back at the guard, who didn't notice anything.
"Good morning, Addel. Keeping busy?" He's picked up a fake accent, but it's definitely the same reedy, oil-filled voice I remember.
"Oh, uh, yessir. Just taking this young scoundrel-" he jerks on my arm "-on a graveyard visit, if yeh follow me, sir."
Now Moon stares at me dead-on, and looks me over with an expression that clearly shows he's never seen me before in his life. He always was a good actor.
"Well WELL, boy. I dare guess who you're related to."
"Just what I thought, Doctor." My guard - Addel? - puffs out a brawny chest. "He's the mirror image of his father, inee?" He laughs, remarkably like Peeves. "Let's hope he turns out a bit better, righ'?"
"Indeed." Moon pauses a second, and glances around himself with one hand on his forehead, every inch the ordinary, forgetful doctor.
"Excuse me, but I seem to have left my clipboard somewhere back there... I'll take this one the rest of the way, if you'd like."
Addel lets go of me instantly. Either he admires Moon, or is afraid of him. It's usually hard to tell.
"Right. Thank you, Addel. See you around."
My guard takes it as a dismissal, and leaves. Besides some barely-conscious prisoners, I'm alone with Moon in the hallway. Still, he leans in close to talk to me.
"Come on. MOVE. We have to make this look convincing."
I start walking, obediently. There are so many things I want to ask him, my mouth has trouble getting one out first. Moon must've read the expression on my face, anyway, because he chuckles like a stagnant lake.
"Did you recognize me?" Without leaving time for me to answer, he goes on. "Probably, I expect. But that's not a problem. The best thing about working behind the scenes, Draco. A clean getaway. I worked for years to keep my face out of the papers, my name off the front page... and now, here I am, doing service for the Master, under their filthy mudblooded noses. I've made it so they don't suspect a thing." I'm worried now. The hall that felt so deserted seconds ago now seems like it's listening to every word Moon says. What about security measures? He's saying way, WAY too much, and he's still going on without pause. Father once said that Moon was intelligent, until he got a chance to brag.
"And the best thing," he continues, "is that I didn't even have to change my name. Just altered the spelling, and drew up a nice medical license. I haven't a clue what I'm doing, professionally, but I'm a good enough actor that they never even notice. Not as though they pay much attention to the sick here, anyway. And-"
I open my mouth, thinking I'll make him shut up myself, before he gets us both permanent accomodations, but as we turn another corner he clams up by himself. Instantly, I see why. We've started down another, shorter, dead-ended hallway. There are only a couple of cells on each side, all of which I can see are empty. But the last cell on the right must be occupied, because it's flanked by the two biggest guards I've seen yet. Moon straightens and clears his throat nervously as we head towards it. I do, too. My father usually has that effect on people.
"Hello, Mister Malfoy," says Moon in a distant, professional voice. "You have a visitor."
~*~
So, there you have it. I'm leaving ya'll in suspense for yet another week. *winces at the gathering torches and pitchforks* I'm really sorry - I SWEAR I didn't mean to this time. I actually meant for this chapter to cover everything I've been building up to, aka Draco's conversation with his father. But I've been really busy and tired and the like and, honestly, I don't know what's going to happen in the next chapter. Seriously. I have no more idea what Lucius & Draco are going to say to each other than you do. Probably less. Way less.
What I'm saying is... I'm stuck. I've got several ideas for directions to go with this story, but I don't know which one of them to pick, or if any will pan out in an even semi-believable way, and, generally, I'm confused. So, does anybody out there have suggestions? I'll love you all if you do. I'm not exactly saying I'll use them, but I'll love you all. Now, with that said, does anyone want to help poor lil' Draco out?
Draco: *makes puppy face* Pleeease?
Now how can you argue with THAT? Come on - drop me a line, send writer's block bashing aid and FAST.
Love!
Kitty.
REVIEWERS (!)
orangepenguin - what can I say? N.O. was the BEST!!!! Moldy dearest, you know more people than me; will you help spread the word that I need sugestions? Shnuggles & thanks!
ps - they honored every vow, and where are they now...? Tee-hee.
Laughing Dragoness - woot! you're the greatest reviewer EVER. I bow to thee, oh gret Queen of the Universe (or was it Empress..? sorry!) Love forever from Kitty!
