Guarding the beast

Disclaimer: I have… no rights….

Artimus Penfold Was on duty at Azkaban. To be honest, it was a last resort job. Normally he provided security for big name wizarding bands, or Quidditch matches- his autograph collection was something to die for.

But since the Dementor's had left Azkaban, the ministry had been screaming for guards.

Usually, he would have simply lived of his earnings from his last big security job until the next match or concert, but the minister had written to him specifically- and the sum of money mentioned was larger then his earnings with the 'Wyrd Sisters', the Montrose Magpies and Celina Warbeck put together! It was certainly an offer he couldn't refuse.

So here he was, much to the chagrin of his wife, in the most depressing place on earth.

'Arty, we got a visitor up at the front desk- 'parrently her husbands in lock up- one of them death eaters. Can ya come up and escort her?' His magical summoning badge hummed. He looked down at it with a total lack of enthusiasm. Azkaban was bad enough, but the area they kept the death eaters was the seventh circle of hell.

'Coming up now Red. Who's she after?' He asked, careful not to let any of his discontent sound

'Cell 396- Malfoy.'

'Right on it. Be there in a sec.' he replied. Malfoy. The name was familiar. He shrugged it off. Probably read it in the paper. He wasn't one to get too cosy with the inmates.

The woman at the front desk was a stunner, alright, he noted to himself, careful not to look her over. Problem was she had this expression on her face, like she'd entered a muggle public toilet. That was a turn off immediately. Still…
'This is Narcissa Malfoy, Art.' Reed introduced politely, his tone slightly bored. 'After prisoner number 396.'
The woman's eyes flashed at the sound of her husband being referred to as a number, but thankfully she didn't make a scene. It wasn't unusual, but it did cut into work time.

'This way Miss.' He instructed politely, hunting through the bunch of magical keys at his hip, leading her into the dank depths of the prison.

'Is it always this filthy?' She asked indignantly, looking around with contempt. Oh this was going to be fun.
'Most of the time. The Dementor's weren't big on cleaning.' He answered shortly, leading her down a flight of filthy steps to a deeper, darker area of the dungeon.
'Not far to go.' He assured her, and himself.

In reality, death eaters were considered highest security prisoners and were on the lowest floor right at the back in the smallest, maximum security cells.

It was cold down there, and their breath left little puffs of condensation, even thought it was summer above.
Water tapped in the silence, and the moans and cries of the hopelessly insane rang through the air like a curse.

By the time they reached cell 396, the lady was shivering a little, her eyes glittering frostily, her arms around herself.

'Here we are.' He said neutrally, swiping the magical key over the door in the prescribed pattern. The door sprang open and he led her in, shutting the door behind and casting an all seeing spell on himself. Just in case the prisoner attacked him to get out, every guard on duty would know.

'Lucius…' the woman said her voice slightly deeper, he clearly heard her cold brittle tone she'd used on him melt away and actual emotion creep in. Interesting.

The prisoner looked up and Art felt a slight shock of recognition. Lucius Malfoy, of course! Pureblood and filthy rich, one of the major wizarding families. Geeze, if they were involved this was a bigger mess then he'd originally thought.

'Narcissa.' He acknowledged, pushing the hair from his eyes. Looking at him now, Art wondered how no one had suspected him before. His eyes were cold and dead, his expression cruel and haughty. However, he stood and held out a hand to his wife like a proper gentleman.

The woman took his hand as if she were attending a social obligation.
'Lucius my dear, so good to see you, I was dreadfully concerned when the authorities told me. I feared they'd've done far worse then imprison you.'
'Is Draco aware…' He asked. His expression, Art noticed, didn't seem to ever change.

'I wrote to him as soon as I knew.' She took a sheet of parchment out of her robe pocket, unfolding it and handing it to her incarcerated husband. 'He wants to know if you can write to him…'
Lucius scanned the letter, and looked up at Art. The guard shrugged

'I haven't heard you can't. I'll ask front desk. Would you like some parchment and ink brought down?' He asked, trying to be as polite and affable as possible. Mister Malfoy nodded curtly, before turning back to his wife.

'Can you manage the estate alone?' He asked. Narcissa nodded her fingers on her lips. Without warning she suddenly burst into tears and flung herself on her husband, sobbing into his cloak. He looked faintly annoyed by this, but reluctantly put his arms around her patting her back.

'Narcissa really…' He scolded.

'I know! I'm s-s-sorry… It's just… thought of l-l-living with you stuck in this horrid place!' She wailed, clutching his robes like a comforter.

Art decided now was a good time to turn his back and page the front desk.

A brief enquiry sent Yanis, another guard on duty he'd met only once, hurrying down with in and parchment. He turned back.
Mrs. Malfoy was dabbing her eyes on a wispy handkerchief.

'When Draco comes home, I'll bring him down; doubtless he'll want to see you. I've warned him to keep his head and preserve the family pride and answer nothing. He's such a good boy…'

Lucius was watching her carefully, lip pursed in thought, as if framing his next question correctly. He threw a guarded glance at the watchful Art.

'Probably for the best. Draco is dreadfully impulsive at times and there are things he might possibly say that would prove… rather embarrassing. I shall emphasise the severity of the situation to him in my letter.' He said lightly.

Narcissa nodded 'He'll listen to you- God knows I have enough trouble making him listen to me.' She said with a fond, slightly maternal smile. Art had never seen an expression that odd before. Motherly love seemed to clash horribly with haughty arrogance.

There was a sharp click from behind them and Art recognized Billy Frizz's hand as it pushed the ink and parchment, he fetched it and coughed politely, holding it out somewhere between the two Malfoy's. Lucius took it delicately, sitting down on the very edge of the grimy looking pallet bed, scribbling down a letter to his son in neat spidery lettering. Art looked away, determined not to be seen as prying.

Finally, Lucius finished writing, signing the bottom of the letter and waiting for the ink to dry.
'I trust your wonderful security precautions will dictate this letter be screened before it leaves the building?' Lucius asked coldly. Art nodded, keeping his expression neutral. Lucius made a slightly derisive noise and handed him the letter, getting up wearily. 'Do be swift with it, I would appreciate it delivered with all possible speed, and I dislike the idea of my wife spending more time in here then she has to.' He said, sneering a little at the walls.

'I'll see to it, Mr. Malfoy.' Art replied blandly, resisting temptation to open the letter and read it then and there.

'Now Narcissa, I don't want you running down here every opportunity- visit again when Draco returns and no arguments.' He said firmly holding up a commanding finger as his wife opened her mouth to protest. 'My decision. You know where all the financial documents are kept? Good. Keep the estate in order. I doubt I shall be incarcerated for long.' He said with a ghost of a smile. He chastely embraced his wife then turned her to the door.

As Art lead Mrs. Malfoy out of the cell, locking it behind, he decided that some things were worth more then money, from the innuendo in Lucius Malfoy's voice during his last message, he felt there was going to be a great deal of trouble at Azkaban before long. He'd go home this very night and inform his wife he'd resigned.