Chapter 9

A/N: This chapter was written in September, way before I posted the last chapter, but real life was hectic for some time. Now that December is upon us, my work is finally slowing down for a month. Hope I can churn out more chapters during this lull period. I may write 2 Christmas short multi-chapters to celebrate festive season. Usually I will be travelling to Europe for a white Christmas but this year, no snow for me :(

Also, I have been binging Great British Bake Off, blame them too for the delays ;)

Hermione stared at the mailbox in front of her. The last time she was here was to pick up a mail from Cambridge for her admission interview and essay requirements. That was a few weeks ago, although it felt so recent. Today, she was here to check her mailbox, and she saw it. She was accepted in Cambridge. She had not opened the mail but judging by how thick the envelope was, it was not hard to guess the content.

One of her neighbours saw her and asked about her family's whereabouts. She politely answered that her parents had moved to Australia, a last-minute but fantastic job offer, and apologized for not informing anyone. Once the conversation ended, Hermione picked up the rest of the mails and entered her house. The hole in her heart returned when she saw her living room. It was still the same as if her parents were only out in their dental clinic. There was a layer of dust but she would clean the house later.

As she sat on the sofa, the sofa that her dad bought right before the war started, she opened the mail from Cambridge. There was her class schedule, her reading materials (she could not wait to get everything on the list!), orientation schedule and other booklets about student activities in Cambridge. Another booklet was detailing her constituent college, Pembroke. She laid out all the materials on the coffee table, and slowly she brushed each booklet, each schedule. It was finally happening, she would be going to Cambridge, she would be fulfilling her parents' wish.

Her mind wandered to that day when Neville told her that he was jealous of her. Thinking back, she did have it better. She managed to enjoy sixteen years with her parents, which was more than Neville ever had. She wiped the tear that slipped her cheek. No more tears, that was what she told herself. Today, she visited the house to do her last cleaning for a while. She had accepted Harry's offer to have Kreacher cleaned the house whenever he was free (which was every day, really) and Harry promised to pay Kreacher 10 Galleons every time he did so.

She put all her Cambridge materials into the envelope again and then into her bag. She skimmed through the rest of the mails, there was nothing significant. Brochures, phone bills and electricity bills. Once she put all of those into the bin, she started to cast scourgify and cleaned her house's first floor. Next, she went into her room. She had already cleared her room when she came back after the war ended.

Hermione now stood in front of her parents' room. Slowly, she opened the door, an unwelcomed wish sprouted in her mind. Her dad taking an afternoon nap while her mum arranging the fresh laundry into the dresser in the room. However, of course, the room was empty. While Hermione was able to declutter the rest of the house, her parents' room was still left as it was. She did not even use magic the previous time she cleaned it, opting to do it the muggle way. She decided to do the same now.

She started by opening the window, letting the fresh air enter. Next was vacuuming the room and then wiped the surfaces with rags. She sprayed her mum's perfume into the dresser, hoping that her mum's smell would linger until the next time she came back. At their bathroom, she did the same, cleaning it slowly with a brush. Once done, she poured some of her father's aftershave and cologne.

Hermione stared at her parents' room. The room was clean now, smelling like her parents again. There was still clutter in some areas but she chose to not do anything about it. She did not have the heart to throw anything relating to them, even the seemingly useless stack of dentistry notes on the corner desk. One day, when she had finally enough courage, she would do that. For now, she just left the items where they were. With that, she walked out of the room and put on locking spells. She wanted to preserve the room, to ensure Kreacher would not clean it. Their room was for her to clean and deal with, in the future.

Taking one last look into her childhood home, Hermione then started to put the spells, Anti-Muggle spell like all other wizarding places, Protection spell to ensure no burglar or fire and other spells to ensure her house would be there when she returned. With great sorrow and heavy heart, she started to walk away, it was just like that day after she obliviate her parents and left to join Harry for the war. Except, for some reason, it felt worse because there was no hope that when she came back from Cambridge, her parents would be there, waiting for her.

It was dinner time in Malfoy Manor. Narcissa took one spoonful of pumpkin soup before stealing a glance at her son. She saw him sighing and put down his spoon.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Mother?" asked Draco dryly. Narcissa cleared her throat, giving her best in pretending not knowing what he was talking about.

"Nothing, just thinking about what you told me about Theo knowing about your father. Do you think anyone else knew about him being in Azkaban?" asked Narcissa, still trying to act nonchalantly. She forced herself to remain calm and continue taking another spoonful of the soup.

"I don't think so, I doubt any of the Death Eaters in Azkaban has visitors. Goyle and his mother have left England, they were the only other possible people who have family in Azkaban. The secret is safe, Mother. I hope you are not doubting Theo."

"No, of course not. He has kept it a secret this long," Narcissa put down her spoon, "Speaking of visitors…" Draco sighed, now his mother was finally saying what was really on her mind.

"You should visit your father. It has been more than a year since he saw you." Draco froze. Visiting his father, he never thought of doing that. Ever since his mother told him that the imprisonment was a secret, he assumed nobody was allowed to visit his father.

"Are we allowed to visit him? What if other people saw us? I don't think we will want to be perceived as visiting other publicly incarcerated Death Eaters," said Draco, maintaining the dry tone.

"As you said, nobody in Azkaban has visitors. I visited your father every other month and the secret is still safe. We just need to inform the Ministry and they will arrange to have you visit with great discretion," said Narcissa. He noted that there was a hint of hope and firmness in the way she spoke. She was not giving him a choice if he wanted to visit him, she was ordering him to. The only choice he had was when he wanted to visit Lucius.

Did he want to visit his father? After his father's trial and subsequent "Auror trips", Draco never really thought about his father. It was easier than facing his feelings towards his old man. He still loved his father, he never doubted that, but he also had a lot of negative emotions towards Lucius. He was angry and disappointed with his father. If only his father was more tolerant, like Daphne's family, their lives would be different. For one, all of them would be at the Manor. His mother probably throwing another party with her pure-blood friends. His father would still be part of the Ministry's inner circle. And him, he would be enjoying the carefree life of a young adult.

Instead, the Manor was empty, nobody wanted to visit it. People said the traces of Voldemort was there, even though his mother had redecorated the entire house. Nobody wanted to meet him or his mother. The worst thing was his father in Azkaban, indefinitely.

"How about next week? Any day is fine as long as the Ministry approves it. We have to obey them after all, don't we?"

"That is fine. I will inform the Ministry. Now, eat your soup before it gets cold, Draco."

Draco saw a sad smile ghosting his mother's lips at his acceptance to visit his father. He was not sure what caused the sad smile, because he was willing to visit his father in Azkaban or because her husband was in Azkaban?

It was the end of August, the weather was scorching hot outside however when Draco's feet appeared at Azkaban's designated fireplace, he felt the coldness. He was not sure what causes the coldness if it was the temperature drop or the chilling wind or the waves crashing outside the walls. He knew there were no Dementors but he felt the dreariness anyway. The memory of him making fun of Potter and Dementors popped out and suddenly he felt a huge regret. It was funny then. But things were different now that he was in Azkaban himself.

"Hand me your wand," said the burly guard with a loud grunt. Draco took out his wand and the man grunted more. He gave Draco a jeer, asked him to follow his lead. Azkaban was eerily silent, their footsteps were echoing too loud in his head. He wondered if it was because of silencing charms that were put on every cell, silencing all the screaming prisoners who were slowly going mad. Each step he took, the coldness seemed to grow. He could sense the despair growing thick the further he entered Azkaban.

"You have thirty minutes to speak to him. Don't try to do anything funny, boy. I have the authority to perform Unforgivables on you and your father at any time," said the guard again as he opened the visiting room. Draco entered the room and saw two chairs, facing each other in the room. There was no visible barrier between the chairs but his mother told him about the powerfully cursed invisible wall. His father tried to hold his mother's hand on her first visit and the wall immediately hexed his father's hand. His father's hand was slightly burned for a few weeks before it disappeared.

Draco pulled the chair on his side and waited for his father to enter from the door on the other side. He started fiddling with his pants, unsure what to do. He had been thinking about what to say to his father but suddenly those thoughts left his mind. Hearing the metal door on the other side being open, he lifted his head, seeing his father after a long time.

Lucius Malfoy was a shell of what he used to look like. His long white hair was filled with dirt and grime; it was also matted in some areas. Gone was his fit physique, instead he was thin, only slightly better than a skeleton. Draco used to think the wrinkles on Lucius' face were a show of wisdom but now those wrinkles only made him older.

"My son, my boy," choked Lucius.

"Father," greeted Draco, albeit very stiffly.

"How are you? Your mother has been telling me stories about you and seemed like you are adjusting well to life after the war." Draco nodded curtly. He was not sure if he should ask his father how he had been. Anyone could see life had been harsh in Azkaban for Lucius Malfoy.

"I saw the Daily Prophet article too. I am proud of you, Draco."

"Because we finally used our Malfoy money for something good?" asked Draco. His father chuckled as if he just heard a joke.

"I used to think I pampered you too much…" He laughed before continuing, "I was wrong clearly. Donating five thousand Galleons on a Potter event? Sitting with those who you did wrong to no less. I was wrong, you have it in you, Draco."

Draco knew his father's true words since their conversations were being listened by all the guards. He was proud because he thought Draco had the cunningness in him. His father thought he plotted for everything that happened at that disastrous dinner.

"It was not like that, Father. Phyllida Jorkins made me as the night's entertainment, if anything. I do not think you would approve of Malfoys being the clown of a Ministry event," said Draco frostily. Lucius laughed louder.

"Phyllida? That Hufflepuff? She was a mousy girl back in Hogwarts. In any case, indeed, I did not approve of our family being the joke of the Ministry or by a Hufflepuff. But times have changed, Draco. If you get a stellar review for every Ministry event you attend, then so be it. It is a small price to pay for our entrance to society," said Lucius with a smirk. Then, Draco saw the old Lucius. He did not miss the emphasised of "our" either. Be a Ministry puppet in exchange for getting his father freedom.

Suddenly, Draco felt the heavy burden, like as if it was sixth-year again. Sure, there was no Voldemort who threatened his parents' safety this time. However, he was once again bearing the heavy burden of saving his parents' from being an outcast. They wanted him to be a Ministry puppet, accepting every single insult and joke coming his way.

"I hope you are not thinking that I will accept being insulted for many years to come, Father. Life as an outcast will be a better fate than that."

"Ah, but Draco, you are forgetting something. You are friends with the muggle-born Hermione Granger now, aren't you? Being her friends will be enough to make sure the Ministry will not be too harsh on their words against you. Again, I must applaud you for adapting to the new world."

Draco felt his blood froze at the mention of Hermione from his father's lips. His father thought he was only friends with Hermione as a façade for having tolerance against mudbloods. His father then had also mistaken his frosty demeanour as disgust for even befriending a mudblood. Lucius was about to open his mouth before the door from both sides were knocked loudly. His mother told him previously that it was a sign Lucius would need to return to his cell soon.

His father then stood up, smoothing his crumpled prisoner outfit.

"Draco, the Ministry has changed in more ways than one but something remains," Lucius gazed deeply into his son's eyes.

"It is always beneficial to follow what the Ministry wants." With that, he walked back towards the door, disappear with the guard, leaving Draco to stare at the empty chair in front of him. A repulsive feeling was growing on his throat. He wished he could retch it out at his father's shadow.

A/N: The next chapter will be a full-on Dramione (finally!). It has been written since September too (before my work became hectic) so hopefully I will edit it fast enough *finger crossed*