After the war
By Adaia Swordmaiden
Summary: Pathetic name but it's to the point. Set after the war, Voldermort has been killed and the Death Eaters sent to Azkaban which is now guarded by humans. The story is better than the summary says.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anything in the Harry Potter series. I do, however, own Guinevere and all other unfamiliar characters.
Chapter 1
When he walked past the cells, flanked by four burly guards, few leaned against the bars of their cells to watch him. So many were being brought to the prison these days that it was no longer interesting. Most of the people just kept on with what they were doing but a few did look and saw him, his head held high and proud, a hard yet slightly amused look in his ice-blue eyes, his shoulder-length, pale blonde hair tangled and dirty and yet still shining slightly, his mouth twisted into an odd, grim smile. He looked only to be eighteen or nineteen. The guards stopped him outside a cell, one of the few empty ones, and one of the guards removed the wards that made the cell unescapable. The young man walked into the cell, sitting down on one of the two tiny bunks in the cell, his back against the wall. The guard hurriedly replaced the wards and they left. The man didn't take any notice of them, just stared at the wall, his mouth still twisted in the strange smile. He knew how long he would be there but it did not matter to him. Inside or outside, he would still feel imprisoned, trapped. At least here the walls and bars were real and not just in his head. When a guard came an few hours later and slid a bowl of food into the cell, the man was in the same position, sitting on the bunk, his back against the wall, his mouth still twisted in that odd, grim smile. An old, gnawed bone hit the bars with a clang as soon as the guard left and the young man looked up to stare at the old man in the cell across from him.
"What's your charge?" the old man rasped, his face filthy and his beard matted with dirt. "What's your charge?"
"Murder," the young man said softly. "It seems a pittance but you have no idea. No idea." The old man unconsciously drew back. The man's voice was like ripped silk, soft and deadly. Just hearing his voice, the old man knew that he was not a man to be messed with.
"No, I tell you, I didn't kill them!" The young woman's shriek echoed as she was dragged along the filthy stone corridor by two of the guards. She looked to be only seventeen. The guards stopped in front of one of the cells and, while one of them held the girl, the other undid the wards. She was half thrown inside and the wards were re-done.
"Here's you new cell-mate, Malfoy," one of the guards jeered through the bars before he left. The young woman stood up and ran to the bars of the cell.
"No, I didn't do it!" she cried, her tears creating tracks down her dirty face.
"Keep your voice down, they're not going to let you out." She turned and stared at the cell's other occupant, her sobs suddenly silenced through fear. "What's your charge?" the young man asked, not even looking at her. She gulped.
"I've been charged with murder but I didn't do it and they refused to give me a trial with Veritaserum," she said, her voice wavering. "I don't know why." The young man looked up at her, his face blank and emotionless but his ice-blue eyes showing weariness and slight curiosity.
"Voldermort created a potion that can block the effects of Veritaserum," he said softly. "Every Death Eater is given a vial of the potion and orders to drink it if captured. The effects last two years. I was refused the same thing though I would never use the potion." The young woman shrank back against the wall.
"Are- are you-" she whispered, her eyes large and fearful.
"Yes though you don't have to worry about me harming you," the man said. "I was forced to become a Death Eater. What's your name?"
"Guinevere Moore," she said, going over to the empty bunk and sitting on it. Her fear was slightly overridden by the sense she could see in what he said and her curiosity. "What's yours?"
"Draco Malfoy," the young man said. "Charged for murder a month ago and God knows I deserved it." His face stayed the same, blank and emotionless, but his eyes now also looked blank, as if shutters had closed behind them. Guinevere realised that he didn't want to talk anymore and so lay down on her bunk, staring at the wall, the tears streaming down her face once more.
In a flat in London, a young man sat up fast in his bed, breathing hard and fast, woken by the same nightmare that had haunted him for a month, ever since the war had been won. He fumbled in the dark until he found the light switch. He snapped the light on and put on his glasses before swinging his legs out of the bed and walking to the bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water and stared at his reflection.
"Harry?" He turned to see Ginny, his fiancée, squinting at him from the bed.
"It's alright, Gin," Harry said, smiling at her. "I just had a nightmare." She nodded and then lay back down. They both knew that he hated being sympathized with, especially when it came to the nightmares. Harry went out into the small kitchen of their flat. Pulling out a mug, he flicked his wand and coffee began to pour out of its tip into the mug. The luminous face of the kitchen clock read 3:46 AM. He sighed and sipped at his coffee, his mind still dwelling on the nightmare. It had been the same as every other night. He would be watching the face-off between him and Voldermort from the side but each time Voldermort cast the killing curse he would be casting it at Ginny or Ron or Hermione. Every time it would be a different person, always someone who was his friend or someone he loved. But this time had been the most confusing. When Voldermort cast the cure this time, it had hit Malfoy. Draco Malfoy who Harry had thought to be his friend, Draco Malfoy who had suddenly become a Death Eater, Draco Malfoy who had been sent to Azkaban for life. Harry tipped back his head and the dregs of the coffee slid out of his cup and down his throat.
"Are you ok Harry?" Ginny asked as she came out into the kitchen, her dressing gown wrapped around her. He smiled tiredly at her.
"Yeah," he said as she came behind him and wrapped her arms around him. "It was just a nightmare. D'you want some breakfast?" Ginny nodded and Harry got up and began to make bacon and eggs. At 7 o'clock, they got dressed in their robes and went over to the fireplace that they had installed once they had bought the apartment. Harry took a handful of Floo powder from the flower pot on the mantle and stepped inside the fire place. "The Ministry of Magic!" he said loudly and clearly, dropping the Floo powder and swirling away in a flash of emerald fire. A moment later, he walked out of one of the many fireplaces in the foyer of the Ministry of Magic, dusting the ash and dust from his bottle-green robes. A moment afterwards, Ginny appeared and, after kissing each other goodbye, they went off to their separate departments, Harry heading for the Auror Headquarters and Ginny heading for the Control of Magical Creatures department. Harry sighed as came to his booth and sat back in his chair, staring at his desk. He knew that it was silly but he just couldn't stop wondering why Malfoy had been the one killed in his dream. A pale violet memo flew in and landed on his desk. He unfolded it and read it quickly. Written on it was:
Morton Meliflua was spotted half an hour ago in Little Whinging. He was captured by the muggle police for breaking and entering and is still being held at the police station.
Harry quickly got up and, grabbing his wand, Apparated to Arabella Figg's house in Little Whinging. She had volunteered her house as a place for Ministry officials to Apparate to if they needed to get to Little Whinging as there were no witches or wizards living in the area. He arrived with a loud crack in Mrs. Figg's kitchen. Mrs. Figg started slightly and then looked up and smiled at Harry.
"Hello Harry," she said. "Ministry work?"
"Yes," Harry said as he hurried towards the door. "Has the police station moved?"
"No," Mrs. Figg called after him. Harry hurried outside; flicking his wand at his clothes and making them appear muggle. He began to stride along the street, past number 4 with only a quick glance at the immaculate house. Petunia Dursley was out in the front garden, watering the hydrangeas, but she didn't notice him. He reached the police station and emerged five minutes later, holding the arm of a befuddled looking man. He walked quickly, keeping his wand at the ready in case Meliflua tried anything, until he came to Mrs. Figg's house. They Floo-ed to the Ministry and Harry led Meliflua to one of the holding cells, used to keep prisoners until their trails. After that, he went back to his office to file a report on Meliflua's capture. There was hardly ever anything interesting to do these days, just the occasional murderer who needed to be brought in. Most of the dark wizards and mudblood and muggle haters had joined Voldermort and so, when Voldermort was killed, they all ended up in Azkaban within the month. The people he was assigned to capture always ended up being brought back as quietly as Meliflua. Harry finished writing the report and filed it before going back to staring at his desk. The latest person he had been chasing was Meliflua so, now that Meliflua had been caught, he just had to wait until he was given another assignment. A picture of Ginny on his desk waggled her finger at him as if to say that he shouldn't be so depressed about everything. Another memo flew in and he opened it quickly, eager for something to do. It was another assignment. He read it over again and then stood up again to Apparate. Work as usual.
Guinevere shivered again, her face pale and covered in sweat. Draco watched her anxiously, hoping that she would begin to get better. She had been sick for a week and he found that he was actually worried about her. He picked up a bowl of water and a rag he had gotten off one of the guards and wiped her forehead. Her hazel eyes suddenly flew open and Draco's heart leapt with hope but sank again as he saw that they were blank. She began to thrash and yell, her words making no sense, and Draco pulled back slightly. Eventually she calmed down and her eyes fell closed again, her arms limp by her side. Draco wiped her forehead again and then there was a loud clang. He looked up, recognising the sound as the sound of the door to the prison opening. He dropped the rag into the bowl and watched as a man was led past the cell by a pair of guards. He was placed in the cell opposite and another man walked into view, one that Draco would never fail to recognise.
"Harry," Draco said, standing up and going to the bars. Harry stared and turned, his face showing shock, recognition and something else that Draco couldn't recognise. Harry opened his mouth to speak but Draco cut him off. "Harry, you have to get a healer. Guinevere is really sick and they keep on putting off getting a healer for her." He stepped aside so that Harry could see Guinevere lying on the bunk, her face pale. Harry suddenly turned to the guards who were watching nervously.
"You've just left this girl when she obviously needs a healer?" he demanded. He turned back to Draco. "How long has she been like this?"
"A week," Draco replied, relief and hope rising.
"Get a healer here now," Harry said. One of the guards nodded and hurried off.
"Thank you so much," Draco said. Harry turned back to him, a look of slight surprise on his face. A moment later, the guard came back, followed by a healer. Draco was taken out of the cell and put in the one opposite and the healer went in, bending over Guinevere. Draco told the healer what Guinevere's symptoms were. The healer muttered a few spells over Guinevere and the sweat disappeared from the young woman's face and colour began to come back. Guinevere's eyes fluttered open and the healer got up, leaving the cell.
"She had meningococcal meningitis," the healer said. "She's lucky that she got healed now or she might have died. She's still very weak but she should be better in a few days if she gets enough rest. Just one more thing and I'll go." The healer then muttered a couple of healing spells over Draco. "It's infectious so you might have gotten it."
"Thank you," Harry and Draco said in unison. The healer then left, accompanied by one of the guards. Draco was put back in the cell with Guinevere and then he turned to Harry.
"Thank you," he said, slightly stiffly. "A man died in the cell across from us and then Guinevere got sick. The guards only call healers if there's going to be a visitor and then the healer only fixes up the person who's going to be visited."
"I'll try and get a healer stationed here," Harry said. "It was- nice seeing you." Then he left. Draco went back and sat down on his bunk.
"Who was that, Draco?" Guinevere asked, sitting up.
"Harry Potter," Draco said. "Go back to sleep. You heard what the healer said." Guinevere nodded and smiled at him before she rolled over. Draco sighed. It had been awkward seeing Harry after all that time. They had become friends in their seventh year and then the war had begun and Draco had been forced to become a Death Eater. He thought for a moment to her, the one they had threatened to kill worse than the others if he didn't join them, but he pushed the thoughts away. She had probably forgotten him by now.
A/N: review, review! Also, meningococcal meningitis is a real sickness and it can be fatal if it goes on for more than a week.