A/N Hi! I don't own this! I have nothing else to say!
Oh yeah - Happy Valentine's Day!
WOOT.
Chapter 7
I can't look at him. I step forwards until I know he must be able to see me, but I just can't look. I feel light and queasy, and something tiny and white-hot inside me is telling me to RUN, run right now, before they can catch me, before I can find out what he wants. Because suddenly, I don't want to know.
Then one of my father's guards leans forward, and the spell breaks.
"Right. State your name."
"dracomalfoy."
"What's that?"
"Draco Malfoy." I say, keeping my eyes on my shoes.
That is, until the other, even larger guard grabs my chin and yanks my face up, hard, to make me look at him.
"I don't like the look a' you." He says, his grizzly pale face an inch from mine. "Hoy - you been through the searches?"
Being somewhat intimidated, I don't shoot off my usual sarcastic response. Actually, I don't shoot off any response - my voice seems to be hiding somewhere, probably under its bed, quivering in terror. Instead I nod. But I forgot nodding is really quite difficult when a half-troll is holding your head still with a dinner plate sized hand.
"ANSWER ME!!!" He bellows. I scrunch my eyes up against a faceful of sprayed spit and hope that he doesn't have anything contagious. I try to answer, but only manage a sort of shriveling squeak. Luckily, I'm spared having to try any more.
"Let go of him. No son of mine will be treated like that. Let. Go."
The guard does so, and for a second I think I'll just slide to the floor in a flood of relief. Because the instant I hear my Father's voice, I know once and for all that he's not dying. That's not the voice of a sick man coming from his cell, no matter how much he might try to make it sound weak and faint. You can't stop a voice with that much power and authority from coming across. He's alright, after all. I sigh. But I still don't look up.
From his cell, my Father clears his throat.
I put my hands deep into my pockets, reaching for the last of the money. I'm lucky - I think there's just enough left. I glance around for Moon, to help me talk them into it, but he's disappeared without a sound. Great accomplice, for sure. I fidget nervously. I can feel the guards' eyes burning holes in me, especially the bigger one, but they don't make a move. Father has shut them up. Taking heart, I manage a nice jeer as I pull out half of the money left in my robes.
"If you, er, GENTLEMEN wouldn't mind, I'd like to talk to my Father privately."
They examine the galleons in my palm. One of them lets out a snort of something that, from a nicer person, might qualify as laughter.
"You're JOKING, boy." Says the smaller one. I give him a bargainer's glare.
Then, resignedly, I pull out a few more coins. The bigger one makes a move like he's going to grab the growing mound of cash, but the smaller, who's obviously the brains of the operation, looks thoughtful.
"Look here," he says, "to leave you alone, we'll take THESE-" he snatches the money from my hands and hides it somewhere in his robe before I can focus my eyes on what he's doing- "And for five more galleons, we won't tell on you, neither."
My jeer shrivels. I only have four galleons left in my pocket.
"Three." I offer.
"FIVE, boy, or we'll throw you in there with him."
"Alright, alright..." My hand are sweating as I put them in my pockets, making it hard to grip the coins. I breathe in shakily as I pull them out.
"Look" my voice is a barely discernable squeak. The guard bears down on me. I clear my throat and try again. "Look, I've only got f-"
"Here." Says my Father's voice.
The three of us whirl around in unison. Father's cell is barless, like the rest of the ones in this newer area. I know there's a barrier there, invisible, but it still freaks me out. I still don't see him directly - he's sitting in the deep shadows in the corner. But I can just make out his hand moving, and then a single galleon slides across the floor of the cell towards us. It hits the enchanted barrier and skitters back a few inches. The guards shift nervously. The bigger one steps forward. He's eyeing the gold with the same stupid-suspicious look I see on Crabbe and Goyle all the time. It almost makes me want to smile. Or not.
"You." He says to the shape of my father in the corner. "Don't move a bloody muscle, or-" he whips out his wand. "I been practicing Cruciatus."
My Father doesn't move.
"Righ'..." The big guard reaches out to the barrier.
"It's against protocol." The small one, who has me by the shoulders a safe distance away, says.
The big one doesn't give any sound that he heard. Instead, he kneels down on the floor directly in front of the galleon. He rests his wand tip on the invisible wall and whispers something, fast. Then he makes a little sweeping motion with his wand, like he's drawing a line on the wall. And suddenly, there's a hole. I can't really see it, but I know it's there, a space just big enough for the guard's considerably large hand to squeeze through, because the rest of the barrier suddenly shivers, rippling in wider and wider circles away from the missing spot, as if it were a puddle that someone threw a rock at. The guard beside me hold his breath.
Moving faster than I would've thought was possible from someone his size, the kneeling guard snakes his hand into Father's cell and grabs the coin. He pulls it back out and makes the same drawing motion with his wand. Instantly, the barrier stops rippling. The smaller guard exhales.
"Nice." He says, stepping over and making the last galleon vanish into his robes (he's already relieved me of my four). They both look considerably braver now. I suppose it's the first time they've ever had to get that close to him. I really can't blame them for being nervous. The big one turns back to Father's shadowy figure.
"Y'know, we could get you in some kinda trouble, having unauthorized money in yeh room."
"You could. And then I could relate how you just made unauthorized contact with a prisoner-namely, me, after first threatening me with an Unforgivable Curse. All things considered, I'd say we were even." This is the longest speech I've heard my Father make in almost half a year. My jeer returns with a vengeance.
With dirty looks but not another word, the two guards walk off down the short hallway, and disappear around the corner.
After a second, Father says, "Go and see if they're eavesdropping."
I do so, peeking around the sharp corner. The two are already little dots, hurrying away down the long hall out of C-block. I return.
"No, sir. They're gone already."
"Thank God," says my Father, who stands and stretches in the dark corner. "First intelligent thing they've done in five months." And then he steps into the light.
I have to sit down on the stone floor.
Five months in Azkaban have made my Father thin and sharp-looking, and paler than I thought was possible, even for him. His face is gaunt and his eyes are hooded, but somehow it doesn't look disturbing, the way it does on Aunt Bellatrix; just imposing, and more than a little scary. Other than that, he's exactly the way I remember. It's not the fact that he's changed that makes me dizzy. It's the fact that he's barely changed at all. Even his ugly grey prison robe is as immaculate as anything he'd wear on the Outside. His hair is longer, and loose around his face - they must not let prisoners have strings or ribbons, anything they could use to choke someone, I guess - but it's still perfectly combed. The only truly different thing is his eyes. Before he was arrested, they were cold, sly, and a bit malicious. Now they're filled with so much out-and-out cruelty and viciousness that I could swear they're glowing. I can't look directly at them for more than a split second.
Father crosses his cell and stands above me, inches away through the invisible wall. The beginnings of a smirk show on his thin face. I realize I'm gaping like a house elf.
"Hello, Draco." He says. Then, grimacing, "Get up. Your robes will be filthy."
I stand. And keep standing, awkwardly. Then, seeing a chance to impress him, I pull out my wand and try something McGonagal was showing us just yesterday, which I turned out to have a knack for. I draw myself a seat in midair. It stays there for a minute, revolving, then clunks to earth: a squishy green armchair, quite more hideous than I would've liked, but at least it's there. And it's my best yet. I sit back down, proudly.
My Father snorts. "My, my," he says, pulling a chair of his own close to the barrier. "The wonders of a Hogwarts education these days."
I sink back into my chair a bit more. He looks at me with distaste.
"Obviously, though, manners aren't among the curriculum. Do not sit before I do, Draco."
I spring to my feet for a second time, for less than a second before he seats himself. I know I'm blushing already - I must look like I've sat on a tack. Luckily, there's no one else around to see - Father is plenty enough.
He smirks fully this time, and waits for me to get comfortable.
There's a second of terrifying silence.
"Well, I'll waste no time, then." Says my Father. His eyes shine like deadly icebergs. "We have much to discuss." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Yep. You read right. It's yet ANOTHER cliffhanger! I know, I know, I'm sooooooryyyyyy.... But man, it's harder writing with Lucius than I thought. Y'like his description? I just couldn't bring myself to make him unnatractive *blushes*.
So, on the blockage front - I've got some ideas now (a million thanks to the beautifical orangepenguin), but nothing definite...I might not be updating next weekend, this is such a big thing. Any more SUGGESTIONS (!!!!) will be greatly appreciated. *coughHINTcough* Send them, along with questions, comments, and all their Ilk. So says Kitty, Mistress of the Fic. Disobey and feel her Wrath.
~Rawr.
WHEE! REVIEWSIES!
orangepenguin - dearest Moldy, you were the only one to help my poor, stuck lil brain *hugs, head pats, and presents with minibus load of Valentine's chocolates* I love you forever!
ps - the quoccas have sent word that Paris may be permanently incapacitated. But they lifted her Target giftcard, so there's no real loss.
LaughingDragoness - Dude. Your reviews are cool. Your fanfic is Cool. You, in general, are really bleeping COOOOOOOOL. Need I say more? :)
Oh yeah - Happy Valentine's Day!
WOOT.
Chapter 7
I can't look at him. I step forwards until I know he must be able to see me, but I just can't look. I feel light and queasy, and something tiny and white-hot inside me is telling me to RUN, run right now, before they can catch me, before I can find out what he wants. Because suddenly, I don't want to know.
Then one of my father's guards leans forward, and the spell breaks.
"Right. State your name."
"dracomalfoy."
"What's that?"
"Draco Malfoy." I say, keeping my eyes on my shoes.
That is, until the other, even larger guard grabs my chin and yanks my face up, hard, to make me look at him.
"I don't like the look a' you." He says, his grizzly pale face an inch from mine. "Hoy - you been through the searches?"
Being somewhat intimidated, I don't shoot off my usual sarcastic response. Actually, I don't shoot off any response - my voice seems to be hiding somewhere, probably under its bed, quivering in terror. Instead I nod. But I forgot nodding is really quite difficult when a half-troll is holding your head still with a dinner plate sized hand.
"ANSWER ME!!!" He bellows. I scrunch my eyes up against a faceful of sprayed spit and hope that he doesn't have anything contagious. I try to answer, but only manage a sort of shriveling squeak. Luckily, I'm spared having to try any more.
"Let go of him. No son of mine will be treated like that. Let. Go."
The guard does so, and for a second I think I'll just slide to the floor in a flood of relief. Because the instant I hear my Father's voice, I know once and for all that he's not dying. That's not the voice of a sick man coming from his cell, no matter how much he might try to make it sound weak and faint. You can't stop a voice with that much power and authority from coming across. He's alright, after all. I sigh. But I still don't look up.
From his cell, my Father clears his throat.
I put my hands deep into my pockets, reaching for the last of the money. I'm lucky - I think there's just enough left. I glance around for Moon, to help me talk them into it, but he's disappeared without a sound. Great accomplice, for sure. I fidget nervously. I can feel the guards' eyes burning holes in me, especially the bigger one, but they don't make a move. Father has shut them up. Taking heart, I manage a nice jeer as I pull out half of the money left in my robes.
"If you, er, GENTLEMEN wouldn't mind, I'd like to talk to my Father privately."
They examine the galleons in my palm. One of them lets out a snort of something that, from a nicer person, might qualify as laughter.
"You're JOKING, boy." Says the smaller one. I give him a bargainer's glare.
Then, resignedly, I pull out a few more coins. The bigger one makes a move like he's going to grab the growing mound of cash, but the smaller, who's obviously the brains of the operation, looks thoughtful.
"Look here," he says, "to leave you alone, we'll take THESE-" he snatches the money from my hands and hides it somewhere in his robe before I can focus my eyes on what he's doing- "And for five more galleons, we won't tell on you, neither."
My jeer shrivels. I only have four galleons left in my pocket.
"Three." I offer.
"FIVE, boy, or we'll throw you in there with him."
"Alright, alright..." My hand are sweating as I put them in my pockets, making it hard to grip the coins. I breathe in shakily as I pull them out.
"Look" my voice is a barely discernable squeak. The guard bears down on me. I clear my throat and try again. "Look, I've only got f-"
"Here." Says my Father's voice.
The three of us whirl around in unison. Father's cell is barless, like the rest of the ones in this newer area. I know there's a barrier there, invisible, but it still freaks me out. I still don't see him directly - he's sitting in the deep shadows in the corner. But I can just make out his hand moving, and then a single galleon slides across the floor of the cell towards us. It hits the enchanted barrier and skitters back a few inches. The guards shift nervously. The bigger one steps forward. He's eyeing the gold with the same stupid-suspicious look I see on Crabbe and Goyle all the time. It almost makes me want to smile. Or not.
"You." He says to the shape of my father in the corner. "Don't move a bloody muscle, or-" he whips out his wand. "I been practicing Cruciatus."
My Father doesn't move.
"Righ'..." The big guard reaches out to the barrier.
"It's against protocol." The small one, who has me by the shoulders a safe distance away, says.
The big one doesn't give any sound that he heard. Instead, he kneels down on the floor directly in front of the galleon. He rests his wand tip on the invisible wall and whispers something, fast. Then he makes a little sweeping motion with his wand, like he's drawing a line on the wall. And suddenly, there's a hole. I can't really see it, but I know it's there, a space just big enough for the guard's considerably large hand to squeeze through, because the rest of the barrier suddenly shivers, rippling in wider and wider circles away from the missing spot, as if it were a puddle that someone threw a rock at. The guard beside me hold his breath.
Moving faster than I would've thought was possible from someone his size, the kneeling guard snakes his hand into Father's cell and grabs the coin. He pulls it back out and makes the same drawing motion with his wand. Instantly, the barrier stops rippling. The smaller guard exhales.
"Nice." He says, stepping over and making the last galleon vanish into his robes (he's already relieved me of my four). They both look considerably braver now. I suppose it's the first time they've ever had to get that close to him. I really can't blame them for being nervous. The big one turns back to Father's shadowy figure.
"Y'know, we could get you in some kinda trouble, having unauthorized money in yeh room."
"You could. And then I could relate how you just made unauthorized contact with a prisoner-namely, me, after first threatening me with an Unforgivable Curse. All things considered, I'd say we were even." This is the longest speech I've heard my Father make in almost half a year. My jeer returns with a vengeance.
With dirty looks but not another word, the two guards walk off down the short hallway, and disappear around the corner.
After a second, Father says, "Go and see if they're eavesdropping."
I do so, peeking around the sharp corner. The two are already little dots, hurrying away down the long hall out of C-block. I return.
"No, sir. They're gone already."
"Thank God," says my Father, who stands and stretches in the dark corner. "First intelligent thing they've done in five months." And then he steps into the light.
I have to sit down on the stone floor.
Five months in Azkaban have made my Father thin and sharp-looking, and paler than I thought was possible, even for him. His face is gaunt and his eyes are hooded, but somehow it doesn't look disturbing, the way it does on Aunt Bellatrix; just imposing, and more than a little scary. Other than that, he's exactly the way I remember. It's not the fact that he's changed that makes me dizzy. It's the fact that he's barely changed at all. Even his ugly grey prison robe is as immaculate as anything he'd wear on the Outside. His hair is longer, and loose around his face - they must not let prisoners have strings or ribbons, anything they could use to choke someone, I guess - but it's still perfectly combed. The only truly different thing is his eyes. Before he was arrested, they were cold, sly, and a bit malicious. Now they're filled with so much out-and-out cruelty and viciousness that I could swear they're glowing. I can't look directly at them for more than a split second.
Father crosses his cell and stands above me, inches away through the invisible wall. The beginnings of a smirk show on his thin face. I realize I'm gaping like a house elf.
"Hello, Draco." He says. Then, grimacing, "Get up. Your robes will be filthy."
I stand. And keep standing, awkwardly. Then, seeing a chance to impress him, I pull out my wand and try something McGonagal was showing us just yesterday, which I turned out to have a knack for. I draw myself a seat in midair. It stays there for a minute, revolving, then clunks to earth: a squishy green armchair, quite more hideous than I would've liked, but at least it's there. And it's my best yet. I sit back down, proudly.
My Father snorts. "My, my," he says, pulling a chair of his own close to the barrier. "The wonders of a Hogwarts education these days."
I sink back into my chair a bit more. He looks at me with distaste.
"Obviously, though, manners aren't among the curriculum. Do not sit before I do, Draco."
I spring to my feet for a second time, for less than a second before he seats himself. I know I'm blushing already - I must look like I've sat on a tack. Luckily, there's no one else around to see - Father is plenty enough.
He smirks fully this time, and waits for me to get comfortable.
There's a second of terrifying silence.
"Well, I'll waste no time, then." Says my Father. His eyes shine like deadly icebergs. "We have much to discuss." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Yep. You read right. It's yet ANOTHER cliffhanger! I know, I know, I'm sooooooryyyyyy.... But man, it's harder writing with Lucius than I thought. Y'like his description? I just couldn't bring myself to make him unnatractive *blushes*.
So, on the blockage front - I've got some ideas now (a million thanks to the beautifical orangepenguin), but nothing definite...I might not be updating next weekend, this is such a big thing. Any more SUGGESTIONS (!!!!) will be greatly appreciated. *coughHINTcough* Send them, along with questions, comments, and all their Ilk. So says Kitty, Mistress of the Fic. Disobey and feel her Wrath.
~Rawr.
WHEE! REVIEWSIES!
orangepenguin - dearest Moldy, you were the only one to help my poor, stuck lil brain *hugs, head pats, and presents with minibus load of Valentine's chocolates* I love you forever!
ps - the quoccas have sent word that Paris may be permanently incapacitated. But they lifted her Target giftcard, so there's no real loss.
LaughingDragoness - Dude. Your reviews are cool. Your fanfic is Cool. You, in general, are really bleeping COOOOOOOOL. Need I say more? :)
