CHAPTER EIGHT: These Walls.
Chapter title taken by the Kendrick Lamar song.
"Kill me? You don't have it in you."
Trigger warning: There are some strong suggestive scenes in this chapter (sexual harassment).
Every creak in the floorboards, every shadow in the night, every whistle or bustling set her on edge. Despite the Revealing Charms showing no one was around or had entered her flat, it didn't ease her anxiety. She didn't breathe a word to anyone, didn't leave, and didn't send any post. She was waiting: whoever was watching her couldn't be far behind.
"What's going on with you?" Draco asked Monday morning when he saw the bags under her eyes. "Was your date that terrible?"
"No it went really well actually," she glared through a clump of curls. "It's what happened afterward that wasn't."
Draco shot back a dirty glare. "What happened?"
"With the date or when I got home?"
"When you got home I don't care about your bloody date," he spat.
Her face fell into a frown. "Someone left a note under my door. It said that I'm being watched."
"Who do you think left it?"
"I have no idea. Only a handful of people know who I am or where I live so the list isn't very long." She dropped her head on her desk, talking through the wood. "I don't know if that scares me more because it could be someone I don't know."
"Well do you have any enemies?" he asked.
"In England? No."
"You probably don't have anything to worry about. Knowing you you probably set up a bunch of traps and charms around the place."
"I didn't think of traps actually. That sounds like a good idea." She propped her head onto her arm. "How was your weekend by the way? Did you do anything fun?"
"Loads of fun," he said sarcastically. "Spent lots of time reading."
"I didn't know you were such an intellectual."
"You'd be surprised." He almost grinned. "I'm not the person I appear to be."
Rosalind looked into his pale grey eyes trying hard not to smile back. "Surprise me then." Draco smirked, sensing a challenge, interrupted by their supervisor.
"Good morning everyone!" Bowen glided to the head of the room, a whoosh of papers trailing behind him. "As you all know, most of you will be patrolling Azkaban in the coming weeks. The department has decided that the best option would be to send groups of four—two Aurors and two officers for maximum protection and security. Breckenridge, Lucille, you will be paired with Hermione Granger and John Dawlish. Malfoy and Rosalind will be working with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. You eight will be leaving promptly at five this evening; be prepared for a very long shift. The workshop for how to handle prison situations will begin after lunch." Draco clenched his fists. Breckenridge's eyes rolled, while Lucille smiled gleefully.
"Great. Not only are we working with Weaselbee and Potter, we're stuck with those two mindless gits."
"You can't handle working with your former partners? She seems to still be into you."
Draco laughed dryly, head nodding to Lucille. "She was a one night stand."
"No way!" she whispered loudly. "You got with that?"
"I'm not proud of it," he defended himself. "I was plastered."
"I doubt that's what you were thinking in the moment."
He grimaced at the idea. "No way. Never again. She was terrible."
"Maybe it wasn't her that was terrible," she grinned into a full blown laugh.
Draco cocked his head away from her, mouth open. "You're in an awfully frisky mood today aren't you?"
Rosalind continued to laugh. "That's what sleep deprivation does to me."
Draco let slip a grin, and they headed to the cafeteria for a bite to eat before the workshop. Upon their return was a small box on Rosalind's desk attached with a note.
"What's this?" she asked as she read the parchmen, her eyes lighting up in happiness. She opened the box and handed a chocolate to him. "Want one?"
He nodded and popped a truffle in his mouth. It was rather good. "Who sent you that?"
"George," she said with a wide grin. "He's asking if we're still on for this Friday."
Draco choked on the truffle, noticing the label on the box. "George Weasley? You're dating a fucking Weasley?"
"We went on one date," she explained slowly, taken aback by his shock. "He's really sweet."
He shot her an insulted glare. "A blood traitor? You can do better than that."
"Who do you suggest then, Prince Draco?" she asked, her brow nearly at her hairline.
"Anyone. My friend Blaise is available," he quipped.
"Blaise Zabini? I have heard he's quite easy on the eyes."
He scowled. "I was kidding. At least find someone that doesn't give you some bloody disgusting chocolates."
Rosalind frowned. "Who pissed in your pumpkin juice this morning?"
They both huffed in their seats, ignoring each other. Rosalind didn't understand what his problem was; perhaps he had deeper problems with the Weasleys that she didn't know about but he still had no reason to be rude.
A tall skeletal witch walked briskly into the room, introducing herself. She threw several photographs in the air, depicting the different areas of Azkaban and other prisons. Her stringy hair drooped in front of her eyelids, masking her monotonous voice; she looked like she had received the Dementor's Kiss herself. The workshop was uninteresting; no one was paying attention. Rosalind doodled on a piece of parchment, replying to George's letter, annoyed and still stung at Draco's reaction.
As soon as the workshop was over they headed to the Auror's Office still avoiding each other, walking in a group towards the lifts. They were to Apparate to an Apparition Point on an island then take a boat to the prison. It was Unplottable and had Anti-Appartition Jinxes protecting it, making it difficult to get to.
Rosalind held her breath, being sucked into the compressing feeling that came with Apparition. She opened her eyes and saw that they were at a small rock for an island in the middle of the North Sea, surrounded by grey and white waves that clapped loudly on the jagged earth. A scruffy looking wizard led the eight of them onto the boat, instructing them to be careful once they arrived. The boat sailed peacefully through the water, its bow repelling any treacherous waters and creatures in its path. The boat crunched onto another slab of rock half an hour later and the wizard secured it on the dock. He nodded towards Harry, who began his speech.
"Alright everyone, we'll split up into groups of four. Malfoy and Morana with myself and Ron, Hermione and Dawlish with you two. We'll start at opposite sides, sending each other signals in case of an emergency. There are other guards here so keep them in mind. Don't speak to any of the inmates and do not refer to them by their names. We will check in on each other periodically. We'll mainly be patrolling the corridors, interviewing inmates only on my order. Understood?"
Everyone muttered their acknowledgment and split up. The air was a different type of chilly; fog misted over the grounds like ghostly figures, and a sliver of moon was creeping into the sky. Howls could be heard coming from a distance.
Azkaban prison loomed over them in its triangular glory: a tall structure, it breathed out misery and sucked in the happiness of those inside of it. Dementors were not needed—the building's magic was enough to haunt the sanest man into madness.
Two guards screeched the rusted iron gates open, letting the group of wizards in. Hermione's group took a right and Harry's went left. They shuddered at the draft of cold air sweeping through them. Most of the cells were occupied by decrepit men, with eyes hollow and lonely, begging for human companionship.
They walked carefully, not wanting to awaken the prisoners who were dozed off. How they slept was a mystery; most of the inmates banged their heads on the walls, screaming their lungs out, claiming that the dementors were after them; others were picking their skin off their faces, ripping their hair out—Azkaban was full of madness.
A wolf whistle could be heard from one of the cells up ahead. "What do we have here?" A voice growled. "Where are you from, gorgeous? You look way too pretty to be from around these parts."
Rosalind's heart stopped. "Go back into your cell inmate." She sounded more confident than she felt.
"Why won't you come in here with me?" he winked, licking his dried lips. His teeth were decaying and she could smell the beads of sweat his body was producing despite the cold.
"I told you to—"
The inmate grabbed her wrists before she had time to react. A red Stunning Spell hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him to the cell wall. He managed to drag himself to his feet, glaring at the wizard who Stunned him.
"Since when does Draco Malfoy come to the aid of a lady?" he snorted. "I wouldn't blame you though, she looks quite delicious…" He staggered, leaning closer to the bars. "Tell me, Draco, have you fucked her yet?"
Rosalind attempted to throw herself at him in anger but Harry held her back. "Don't. He's trying to make you upset so you'll get closer to him. He wants your wand."
"I'm just doing my job Rodolphus," Draco said dangerously. "I'm much better off than you are, rotting in this place."
Rodolphous Lestrange laughed darkly. "You think you could survive in here? The Dark Lord had a job for you and you failed him. You're a bloody coward. You might as well be a Mudblood, running off to the Ministry and working for them. No wonder your father thinks you're a disgrace." He spat in Draco's face, but Rosalind's wand was too quick, propelling it back to the Death Eater.
"That is enough!" Harry yelled, Silencing Rodolphous. "Calm down, both of you! He's being an arse to get a rise out of you. Didn't you pay attention to the workshop?"
"Shut it Harry," said a disgruntled Ron. "You're starting to sound like Hermione."
Harry furrowed his brow but ignored the comment. Draco and Ron were being amicable, trying to say as little as possible. Rosalind wondered what mission Rodolphous was talking about. Whatever it was Draco didn't do it, meaning that the Death Eaters hated him. So what was Harry worried about?
An hour later they met up with Hermione's group. They had nothing to report and neither did the guards. Food was at the table which they took turns eating. Draco's mood had softened towards Rosalind but they didn't say much to each other.
"Thank you for that back there," she muttered. "That was nice of you."
"Don't mention it. Rodolphus is a sleazy arse." He bit into his sandwich and gulped his pumpkin juice, hardly glancing at her when she sat next to him. He debated whether or not he wanted to talk to her and pondered for several moments about it, eventually swallowing his pride. "I was supposed to kill Dumbledore," he said finally in a low voice. "That was the mission I had."
Rosalind dropped her sandwich. "You were supposed to kill Albus Dumbledore?" she asked in shock.
"The Dark Lo—He told me I had a job to do and I couldn't do it. I failed everyone. I don't think I have the ability to kill someone," he finished quietly. "I didn't want to do it-I didn't want to become a Death Eater let alone kill someone but my father-he said that it was what the Dark Lord wanted. And if I didn't do it he'd kill me." His eyes grew dark. "I felt as if I had no choice."
"So you were a Death Eater…and you never killed anyone? You never tortured anyone either?" she asked hesitantly.
"I never killed anyone. I saw plenty of people get killed though. I never tortured anyone but saw a lot of things I wish I could forget…but I didn't do anything to stop it either." His voice stiffened in regret. "Which makes me as complicit as them."
Rosalind gave him a stiff, closed lip smile. "We can't all be heroes all the time. Forget what Rodolphous or anyone else says. You're not a bad person."
He sighed. "Maybe." He brushed his hand against hers for a moment, feeling how smooth her skin was. Her face immediately glimpsed shock and she moved it back onto her sandwich, ignoring the jolt of intensity she felt.
A dense, bitter wind swept through the prison: the group's conversations were hushed and the jail was instantly muted with fear; they could hear each other's breathing from the other side of the room. Harry put his finger to his lips, instructed them not to speak. A boom cracked through what sounded like the front gate and screams penetrated the walls.
"Stay with your groups," Harry ordered. "Hermione, keep your lot behind us. Everyone else stay close by."
With their wands drawn like swords they sprinted to the front gate where a young guard lay dead, head drowning in his own blood. The other guard was cradling his body, crying for help.
"They're rioting! They're by the graveyard!"
Harry led the troop of wizards to the graveyard, doubling back around the prison. Wails pleading for aid echoed throughout the barricade; it sounded like the guards were under attack.
Gaunt, skeletal hands were ripping through the earth, reaching for life. Their faces were sunken, bloodless, with crimson eyes and rotten, scabby skin: the graveyard had turned into a battleground of Infefi. They were slicing throats, splitting heads open with blunt objects, feeding on the blood of their victims.
"Bloody hell," Ron said in a high-pitched voice. "Bloody hell I've never seen Inferi before."
A jet of light zoomed past their heads, breaking a gravestone. The inmates were pouring into the yard shooting spells at whatever was in their way, stopping at nothing to leave the godforsaken rock of a prison. Everyone scattered on Harry's order.
"There you are darling," a sinister voice whispered by Rosalind's ear. "I almost thought I wouldn't be able to see you again."
Rosalind shot a Stunning Spell at Rodolphus Lestrange but he flicked it away wordlessly. "Where's little Draco to save you?" He chuckled, stepping closer to her and repelling every spell she shot at him. "Oh yes…" He grasped a chunk of her hair, inhaling it deeply. "You smell absolutely delicious…Pureblood, are you not? What a waste, you would've made a fine Death Eater." He traced her face with his fingertips, lacing the curves of her shirt with his free hand. She froze, paralyzed with fear, fighting tears. "You know there is something about being away from people that makes you realize how important human touch is…" He slid his hand underneath her shirt, breathing in her ear, giving it a slow lick. "So you begin to crave it." He licked his lips, opening his mouth closer to hers.
"Don't touch me," she warned, choking back tears. "Touch me and I will fucking kill you."
"Kill me?" He smiled, lowering his hand. "You don't have it in you. You're much too noble."
She shoved him, to which he reacted by slapping her in the face.
"Crucio!"
Rodolphous' body contoured in pain; his head jerked back and forth, his spine convulsing in gruesome angles. His eyes remained open, glaring at her with such intensity she feared he was resisting the curse.
"Crucio!" She lunged at his body, forgetting about magic—she thrust punch after punch wherever she could: his nose, his ribs, his pelvis—anything. She shattered his cheekbone and grabbed his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs. Rodolphous recoiled his arms, digging his hands into the earth to save himself; his eyes were bulging, sweat was burning his face and his body began to relax. Rosalind tightened her grip, elated: she was euphoric from the power, high from the hysteria of being so close to taking his life-
"Rosalind? What are you doing?!" Hermione shot a spell that chipped her shoulder and dragged her off Rodolphus. She kicked her legs trying to free herself but he was already beginning to retreat.
"I knew you had a fight in you," he said, wiping away blood from his mouth. "It's my favorite kind of foreplay." He winked, departing with his stolen wand.
Hermione's eyes widened. "What were you thinking? No one can use Unforgivable Curses-not even Aurors!"
"He was-he was trying to hurt me Hermione!" she yelled, tears streaming from her eyes.
"I know!" she picked her off the ground and hugged her. "I know. But you have to be careful; you can't be using those spells left and right. You could be sent here by the Ministry. We can't stoop down to their level, it's what they want." She gave her a concerned look. "Are you okay?"
Rosalind was leaning against one of the tombstones clutching her chest, her other hand clenching her hair. "I can't believe—I promised myself—I can't—" Her eyes were burning with tears as she sobbed into her arms. Hermione attempted to assist her but Ron was calling her.
"Hermione move! They're heading towards the boat! Let Harry take care of the Inferi!" He dragged her away as a giant lasso of fire erupted from Harry's wand, leaving Rosalind to fend for herself.
Harry was standing in the middle of the graveyard, waving his wand in circular motions above his head. Fire spurted out like a volcano, searing the undead bodies of the Inferi into ashes; they screamed their last cries in agony and several inmates dropped into the ocean by the crossfires of the Firestorm Charm.
The cemetery was in cinders, the remaining bodies burning over the kindling fire; the island was deathly quiet. A body was running towards Rosalind in the fog, frantically searching for her. Draco lifted her from the ashes. "What were you thinking, Morana? Rodolphous could have fucking killed you!" She fell into his chest, accidentally hugging him. She was trying to hold back the remaining sobs. "It's alright," he said rubbing her back, surprised that she was holding onto him. "He's gone. It's alright."
"Where are the others?" she said finally. Her hands were still shaking and the blood on her face was crusting over.
"They're on the other side by the boat. It's not looking too good."
They sprinted towards the other side of the island passing more bodies on the way. The fog hadn't lifted at all, and the Aurors were still fighting the remaining prisoners, shackling them in invisible handcuffs. The wizard who managed the boat was lying on his face, dead.
"What-what happened?"
"We're not sure how the riot started," Harry informed her. "The inmates attacked the guards, stealing their wands and hijacking the boat. The Death Eaters escaped."
"So what does this mean? We can't Apparate-" she stammered.
"It means we're stuck. We're stranded here."
Rosalind's heart dropped. Azkaban was Unplottable, impenetrable. No one would know they were there. They were marooned in the middle of nowhere with no way out.
Dun dun dun, what are they going to do? This is one of my favorite chapters because we begin to see a small glimpse of Rosalind's past life. Thank you so much for reading! A review or comments/predictions would be greatly appreciated :) Next chapter: Papa Don't Preach.