CHAPTER NINE: Papa Don't Preach

Chapter title taken from the Madonna song.

"I'm no Dark Wizard."

The glow of the inferno from the Firestorm Charm cindered the remaining signs of life to dust. Bodies of guards and inmates were being levitated into two piles: inmates were identified by tattoos on the back of their necks and the guards with their badges. The air was thick with dread and disappointment; not ever had Azkaban seen such a mass breakout, even when the Dark Lord was in power.

Harry sighed, pacing back and forth in frustration. A stream of cloudy mist spurted from his wand, forming a full grown fluorescent stag. He spoke to it as if it could hear him. "Find Kingsley Shacklebolt. Tell him there has been a mass breakout at Azkaban. Everyone from the department is alive but we are stranded. We need help." The glowing Patronous nodded, then pranced away silently into the fog.

Harry faced his small band of comrades who were tending to their wounds. Breckenridge, Dawlish, and Lucille were burned severely, Ron and Hermione were mostly unhurt; Draco and Rosalind had several cuts on their faces, Rosalind's clothes tattered from her fight with Rodolphus.

"We need to inspect the inside of the prison. Something tells me we're not the only survivors. I need volunteers." He scanned his team, looking for anyone eager to join him.

Rosalind stepped forward. "I'll go with you." No one protested. Ron agreed to go as well, and the others stayed behind looking for the rest of the guards.

"Stay close," Harry instructed. He led them inside, Rosalind in the middle and Ron at the back. There was hardly any light and no signs of existence. They passed carcass after carcass: most were ghostly pale from shock, others had their tattered uniforms shredded, others were filthy from suffocating in their own blood. Drops of water slithered through the falls, giving the hallways an eerier atmosphere; it was a more gruesome scene than the cemetery. At the very end of the hall there was one cell that hadn't been tarnished, in fact it was almost completely unblemished. A body was sitting in the corner, a ray of moonlight flaring on the pale, pointed face. His hair was matted, grisly, his thin lips cracking from madness, his cold grey eyes haunted by ambition.

The wizard locked eyes with them but did not say a word. Harry ordered Ron to check the remaining cells of the prison.

"Good evening, Lucius," he said sternly.

The man named Lucius almost did not answer. "Good evening, Mister Potter."

"Why is it that all the former Death Eaters in this prison managed to escape except for you?" He gritted. "Can you tell me how that happened?"

"I know nothing, Mister Potter. I am here repenting for my sins." His voice was frigid, deadly calm, his hands in the air in mock defeat. "I did attempt to escape, I will admit, but none of my former friends seemed keen to assist me."

Harry glared at him. "Where are the others? Did anyone else survive?"

Lucius shrugged, his palms still in the air. "I do not know. I saw nothing."

Harry wasn't convinced, turning to Rosalind. "Are you alright here with him? I need to talk to the other Auror's—we can't leave him here." She nodded and Harry commanded the former Death Eater to behave himself.

Lucius positioned his body towards Rosalind's. She didn't say anything. After several minutes he grinned, a grin similar to Draco's but sinister.

He glanced at her badge. "Morana…you must be Draco's new partner. I've heard he has been difficult to work with."

Rosalind stared at the man she just realized was her partner's father. "He's not," was all she managed to say.

"Really now?" He raised an eyebrow. "Just you wait until things become difficult. When the first sign of danger comes around don't be surprised when Draco leaves you there to die."

"Draco's not the coward you believe him to be."

Lucius scoffed. "It is unlikely he has changed his ways." His voice lagged as he took his time to observe her. "Tell me, Miss Morana what is your blood status?"

"Why does that matter?"

"I can be curious, can I not? Entertain me-I am the lone survivor of a prison riot."

"I'm a Pureblood," she said, eying him.

"Ahh," he smiled. "Rodolphous was right."

Rosalind's lip quivered, her heart thudding against her chest. She couldn't react to anything he said; she didn't want to repeat what happened earlier.

Lucius widened his grin. "I didn't know an employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had the audacity to use an Unforgivable Curse. Not your first time I presume?" He asked casually.

Rosalind said nothing.

His laugh was biting, mordant. "Don't be ashamed, dear girl. It's rather thrilling is it not, to cause that kind of pain unto others? To see them suffer like they deserve?"

Her hand twitched on her wand, but again she said nothing.

"Rodolphus spoke to me before he left. He will be looking for you." He waited for her reaction but there was none. "That was quite the tussle you put up with him, I'm rather impressed. Not many witches or wizards have the capability to exert such force." He sat up, his wrists creaking from immobility. "It's a pity you didn't study at Hogwarts. You would have made a fine Slytherin."

It was her turn to laugh. "I'm no Dark Wizard Mister Malfoy."

"You don't have to be," he said simply. "You do however need to be cunning and ambitious; clearly qualities you have. Nothing wrong with wanting to accomplish great feats in life."

"I don't have to trample on anyone's toes to get there either."

Lucius stood up to his full height. He and his son had the same stature. "You would be an admiral match for Draco," he grinned. "Keep an eye on him, would you? Keep him out of trouble." He laughed sarcastically, his platinum locks sticking to his skin.

A creaking distracted her; Harry and the others were picking up the rotting carcasses. He flicked his wand at Lucius, who was immediately bound by invisible chains. "You're coming with us. Unfortunately you are the only prisoner alive. We'll need you for questioning once we get back to the Ministry."

"And how do you propose we leave this place, Mister Potter?" he challenged.

Dawlish appeared before them. "There are no boats, no brooms, no mode of transportation," he informed.

"I think I can help," Rosalind spoke up. "I think I can manage a way for us to get out."

The Aurors eyed her. "What do you need?" Harry asked.

"Iron. And cloth for a sail," she answered thinking quickly. "I don't think it'll take too much time."

"Alright," Harry said finally. "Do what you need to do, grab whatever you need. Let us know if you need any help."

She nodded and left for the entrance. There were still several corpses and severed body parts laying around that the others had not gotten to yet. She had an idea, a morbid one but there was no other choice—she began to unclothe the bodies, exposing them to the harsh earth. They already reeked of rotten flesh, the putrefaction process beginning.

"Oh-!" Rosalind vomited; the unbearable smell was impossible to become accustomed to. The lifeless eyes of inmate 413 were staring blankly at her. She stripped him naked, along with the rest of his cellmates. She whisked her wand to glue the shabby rags together, ripping several more with her bare hands to form a rope.

"Incendio!" A flame jetted from her wand, melting the iron cell bars slowly."Incendio maxima!" The intensity of the flame quadrupled, liquefying and falling to the floor like a waterfall. She proceeded to smelt the rest of the cells, making sure they did not harden until she was ready for them to.

"What are you doing?" an inquisitive voice asked.

Rosalind turned around. Draco was staring at the mangled bodies and burning metal completely confused.

"This isn't what it looks like—"

"Are you making a bloody sail?" he blustered. "Out of dead mens' clothing? Are you mad?"

"Well what else are we going to do, Draco?" she contended. "Do you have any better ideas?"

"No," he admitted. He looked crestfallen, like he was being left out. "Let me help you," he said a moment later. "Please."

Together they blasted away the iron ores, the heat blistering their hair and skin. Their faces were covered in soot and ashes; the smell of decomposing bodies was beginning to overbear them. Finally more than an hour later they transformed the giant lump of iron into a crude boat. It was hardly big enough to fit all of them but it would get the job done. They acquired more metal to make a mast and charmed the grim sail to it, flowing freely in the dense air.

"Not bad." Draco nodded his approval. "Still bloody gruesome but it'll get us out of here right?"

"I think so," Rosalind said skeptically. "As long as we don't go too far. Hopefully the Apparition Point is still intact."

They plopped themselves onto the dirt, exhausted. Draco had an odd look on his face; unsure what to say.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing it's just…" he stared off into space searching for the right words. "My father is over there with the others. I can't go over there because he'll say something to me and I don't want to be accused of anything. And I don't want to see him."

Rosalind looked into his sad, pale eyes. They were the same shade as his father's yet completely different: they were the eyes of a lost boy who made all the wrong decisions. "He talked to me earlier," she decided to say. "He saw my badge and knew who I was."

His head perked up. "What did he say?"

"He said he heard you were difficult to work with. I defended you and told him you're not the man he believes you to be." Draco smiled slightly at the thought. "He mentioned something about Rodolphus, he said he'll be looking for me. Then he told me I would have been a good Slytherin if I attended Hogwarts," she added with a laugh.

Draco let out a small chuckle. "He's probably right."

She rolled her eyes. "I am not a Dark Wizard, thank you very much."

"Hey neither am I!" He punched her in the arm. "Not all Slytherins are bad you know."

"You think that's funny?" She punched him back harder. "Then you'll love what he said after that."

"Oh yeah? What was it?"

Rosalind paused. "I don't know if I should tell you. He was being dumb."

"Come on. You can't tease me like that."

She frowned, swallowing her laugh. "He said that I would be an admiral match for you and asked me to keep you out of trouble."

Draco's mouth hung open, his tongue oscillating between which words to say. "He said that?" Rosalind nodded. "Maybe Azkaban made him a little soft." He leaned closer to her. "Funny, he normally doesn't like the girls I bring around. You must have made quite the impression on him."

"He found out I used an Unforgivable Curse on a Death Eater. That's not the impression I wanted to leave on someone's parent I just met for the first time."

"Yeah but how many people can say that?" He sat up, his back resting on the outside wall of the prison. "I bet you not even Potter would have the gall to do that."

"I'm not proud of it," she said, lowering her voice. "It's not something I like to use often."

Draco offered an awkward grimace to comfort her. "I know. Using those curses leaves a sinking hole in your heart, like it's not something that's meant to be done." He lowered his head to look at her. "I had a hard time with the Cruciatus Curse. I barely managed to do it even when I was furious. I never even attempted the Killing Curse. I couldn't get them to work."

"Never?" she asked, surprised. "You were a terrible Death Eater then."

"Of course I bloody was, I was a kid," he retorted, slightly offended and amused.

"Sorry," she replied, swallowing her laugh. "I know that was a hard time for you. I shouldn't say anything."

He gave her a feeble grin. "It's alright. It felt nice to talk about it."

"You don't have many friends do you?"

"I don't." He shook his head with a sigh. "They're either dead or won't speak to me."

"It looks like we have some things in common," she said, returning his grin. He frowned, interrupted by the Aurors and the remainder of the pack who had found them, except for Dawlish who must have been with Lucius.

"Blimey," Ron said, astonished looking at their handiwork. "You two made this?" They nodded and he took a closer look at the sails. "Ugh, why does this smell so filthy?" He touched the rope and inhaled the fumes.

"Ron, don't touch—"

Ron's eyes widened in disgust upon seeing the bare bodies by the entrance. "This is their—you used-? What are we-? What the—" His mouth hung agape at a loss for words. "I don't know if this is mad or if it's—"

"It's brilliant," Hermione said. "It's foul, but it's brilliant." She examined the boat, stepping inside. It was completely solid. "You two work well together."

Rosalind smiled. "Thanks," she managed to say. "So what's the plan?"

"Well we can't do much about the bodies," Harry said, helping them onto the boat. "We're going to have to dump them into the ocean. Dawlish already recorded the list of the ones who perished; most of them don't have living relatives anyways except for the guards. We'll head back to the Apparition Point and I'll take Lucius to the Ministry's dungeons to question him further." He shoved a disgruntled Lucius Malfoy onto the far edge of the boat, completely opposite from his son. He shot them a sliver of a smile when he saw he was standing next to Rosalind.

"What the hell is this?" Lucille asked in outrage. "There is no way I am stepping foot in that. We might as well die here."

Ron shoved her into the mast, tattered rags slapping her in her face. "You do as you're told, Officer. No questions."

The boat creaked with the weight of its passengers; Hermione commandeered it to sail in the direction of the slab of rock. The air was still chilly, misty and bleak, with the sun beginning to peek over the horizon. They sailed into the daylight for half an hour, eventually thudding into the tiny enclave. It was completely abandoned, only left with signs of a struggle.

"Dammit," Harry muttered. "They beat us here. That means they could be anywhere."

"What do we do now?" Breckenridge asked.

"We head back to the Ministry and continue our search once I talk to the Minister," he answered.

"You mean we don't get to go home?" she groaned. "We've been working for more than a day straight—this can't be legal."

"I guess that's what separates officers from Aurors," Harry retorted sharply. "Aurors are accustomed to doing most of the work."

The gargantuan woman threw him a look of disgust but didn't say anything. Without another word they Apparated back to the Ministry of Magic, straight to the atrium.

It was early so the halls were quiet. No one had business there at almost five in the morning. Harry and Dawlish left for the lifts with Lucius, leaving the rest behind.

"I need you all back in our offices at nine," he told them. "You're free to do whatever you like until then."

Lucille and Breckenridge had their arms crossed, annoyed looks on their faces. "I'm going to sleep," she said, Disapparating into thin air.

Hermione turned to Draco and Rosalind. "Nice job today," she said brightly. "Both of you, honestly. Don't mind Harry, he gets a little cross when he's stressed. Keep this up and you'll be a Hit Wizard soon." She smiled at Rosalind, leaving to grab a coffee with Ron.

Rosalind sighed as she and Draco grabbed a seat on the bench by the café, yawning widely. "What are you gonna do now?" she asked him, half awake.

"Don't know. I should probably go home and sleep. What about you?"

"I'd love to sleep but I don't think I can go home," she said honestly. "Not after last night—I'm scared your friend Rodolphus might find me."

"I doubt he'll go looking for you anytime soon, he just escaped from prison." He hunched his shoulders into the back of the bench. "But he'll find you if he wants to."

"Thanks. That's so reassuring."

"If it helps I have room at my place," he offered. "If you want, I mean," he added quickly seeing the quizzical look she gave him. "At least for the next few hours. I won't make you sleep on the couch this time."

She gave him a skeptical look. "That's probably the best option I've got. Thanks for that."

Draco extended his hand, palm upwards. She took it and the atrium turned black, seconds later they were back at his apartment. A mirror was facing them in the living room and they took a good look at themselves for the first time in almost twenty four hours.

"Oh Merlin," Rosalind said as she examined the cuts and bruises on her face. "I look terrible."

Draco laughed, throwing a towel at her face. "I've seen worse. You can take a shower if you want, I'll grab you some clothes you can borrow."

She walked to the bathroom and turned on the tap, noticing the pattern he had throughout his apartment: green and silver embroidered near everything he owned, like the House of Slytherin. She undressed herself, washing her clothes first before stepping into the shower. It was rather large and could definitely fit two people in it. The cool water was a breath of fresh air on her face, wiping away any signs of the skirmish from the night before. The shampoo smelled of peppermint, like Draco often did. She heard a knock while she was showering and Draco mentioned something about leaving dry clothes on the sink. A few minutes later she threw her hair into a towel and slipped into Draco's button down flannel.

She stepped out of the bathroom wearing his favorite flannel, fastening the six or seventh button. She was scrunching her hair with the towel, accentuating her curls, a distracted Draco turning around quickly.

"Hello? Did you hear me?" she asked. "I said you forgot to give me pants."

"What? Oh yeah, sorry." He threw a pair of gym shorts as she mumbled her thanks and he moved for his turn in the shower.

Draco showered quickly, the water accentuating his exhaustion. He walked into his bedroom with a towel around his waist, Rosalind sound asleep in his bed, slipping under the covers quietly once he had changed.

Rosalind's heart thudded against her chest as the bed sank with Draco's weight on it. It had been ages she had been in bed with another human and it was her coworker of all people. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought.

Draco remained awake. There was too much on his mind. He wanted to know what his father's fate would be but then again didn't want to know anything at all; some things were better left unsaid. Lucius didn't even acknowledge him when they saw each other, he probably didn't want anything to do with him. He rolled over on his side, eyes itching with sleep. He was exhausted. Rosalind's face was facing the middle of the bed as he was, her plump lips forming an exaggerated pout. He turned his back to her and fell asleep.

At eight o'clock Draco carefully slid from his covers and slipped into the kitchen. He turned on the stove and began to fry some bacon while crepes cooked slowly on the skillet. The strawberries began to slice themselves and floated themselves onto the crepes that were ready, and syrup cascaded itself onto the dish. He poured himself a glass of juice and one for Rosalind.

The smell of food penetrated her nostrils, awakening her. Rosalind stretched her limbs, groaned and walked into the small dining room. She completely forgot she was in Draco's clothes and that his gym shorts had fallen off in her sleep.

Draco raised an eyebrow upon seeing her. "Good morning. I recall you asking me for pants earlier," he grinned. "If you didn't like them you could've used a different pair."

Rosalind looked down at her bare lower body and her eyes bulged so wide she was sure they were going to pop out. "I'm sorry!" She moaned. "I always end up taking my clothes off when I sleep because I get hot." She trotted back into the bathroom, shirt half unbuttoned. Draco catching himself in a smirk.

A few seconds later she emerged in the same outfit from the night before: form fitting black trousers and a grey ruffled shirt, her hair air dried into its natural curly form.

"Good morning," she said, trying to sound better than she felt. "Thanks for letting me stay over to sleep."

"Don't mention it." He set her plate on the table and grabbed the seat in front of her.

"Do you always make breakfasts like these?" She asked after her first bite. "You're two for two."

"Only when the mood strikes." He sipped his pumpkin juice. "So not very often."

"Two weeks in a row is pretty frequent," she observed.

"Because I had guests. I'm not going to let someone under my roof starve," he said rather fatherly.

She smiled. "You'd make a good house elf."

His frown turned into a grin. "Only one of the two of us is the same size as a house elf and it's not me."

"I'm not even short!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. "You just happen to be tall!"

"Damn, hit a nerve there I see," he laughed as he cut his crepe open. "Don't be using any Unforgivable Curses on me too."

"Only if you deserve it," she rolled her eyes, flicking her wrist and stinging Draco's kneecap.

"You think you're funny do you?" He said rubbing his knee, shooting his own counter jinx at her. "You're not the only one who can throw jinxes."

"I'm hilarious," she said dryly, the skin on her arm burning.

"Not as funny as me," he responded as her body flipped upside down, suspended from the ceiling.

"You bastard!" she yelped, arms flailing as she struggled to catch her wand, shooting another jinx at him.

Draco's legs pooled into the ground from her jelly legs jinx, crawling on the floor to grab his own wand.

"Put me down!" she yelled as he continued to crawl towards her.

"You put me down!"

"No!" he said instinctively, Rosalind feeling her breakfast beginning to make its way back up her esophagus. "Fine we both will on the count of three. One, two, three!"

Their eyes close waiting for the jinxes to be lifted, Rosalind's still hung upside down, Draco's legs still mush.

"You didn't do it!" Rosalind exclaimed, blood rushing to her face. "Why didn't you do it!"

"Because I didn't think you'd do it!" Draco said, still crawling. "Fine, this time we'll actually do it-one, two, three!"

Draco's legs solidified as Rosalind began to fall from the ceiling, Draco quickly muttering a spell to soften her fall. Her body was parallel to his, face inches from each other's, her body hovering in mid air. Their eyes connected, both breathing heavily, a long moment passing as their chests heaved in sync, a spark of unknown emotion burning through their bodies.

"You put up a good fight," he breathed.

"You're not the first guy who's thought he could man handle me."

He shook his head with a grin, waving his wand to set her down next to him. Rosalind stood, patting her blouse and flipping her hair as Draco eyed her.

"Where did you learn to use those?" he asked as casually as he could. "Unforgivable Curses I mean."

Her eyes flashed anger that he had dared to ask her. Draco almost muttered an apology when she decided to speak. "No one taught me...not exactly," she responded, avoiding his gaze. "The first time I used one was on impulse and had no idea it would work. After that it was as needed which sometimes was frequent." She spoke her words slowly, as if they were poisonous. "I was very angry. For a long time. I harnessed my anger in the worst way possible because that was all I knew."

"Oh...I see," he drummed his fingers on the table, still eyeing her.. "I was taught by my Aunt Bellatrix. She was the most ruthless person I knew. She lived and breathed to torture people. She got sent to Azkaban for it."

"Did you ever get sent to Azkaban?"

"No, thankfully," he said, adjusting his watch. "My father obviously was a different story and was in too deep. My mother was never involved and actually helped Potter so that helped me as well."

"Helped how?"

"By lying to the Dark Lord. She asked Potter if I was alive and he told her yes, so she lied to him and said he was dead to save him in return."

"Wow," she breathed. "Your mother loves you."

"That she does," he said stiffly. "A little too much at times." He glanced at his watch, minutes from nine o'clock. "Shall we?" He offered his hand but she took his arm instead, suddenly filled with the warmth of the realization that Draco had not judged her, had not looked at her any different as he did before. She held her breath for the painful ride, thankful she finally had a friend.

Hello dear readers! I decided to throw a little Draco interaction near the end, I hope you enjoyed it :) Thank you so much for reading!

Next chapter: Mothers of the Disappeared