So, yeah, here's the next chapter, and I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 2: Raining
It was raining. That in itself wasn't so strange, in Azkaban it always rained m, like the sun didn't even want to be near the gigantic prison. But the never-ending rain was extra strong just this day, for some reason. The rain poured, mixing with the dirt and stone, making the prisoners dirty and flea-infested.
Everyone was used to it, the rain, the dirt, the sickness, the hoplessness, but it was still horrible. Waking up, thinking you're back with your family, laying in your soft, white bed, only to realise you aren't going to see them for the rest if your life. It was mentally damaging, and it showed. Some of the prisoners would rock, back and forth, either talking to themselves or singing what they could remember of a childhood lullaby.
Some screamed, until their throats went raw, and it switched to soundless sobbing instead. It was heartbreaking, especially for the few visitors coming and going, seeing their once happy and smiling family member reduced to such a state. The few visitors that came often only came to see their children. Children.
It was that heartbreaking.
And in the cold December afternoon, a few days before Christmas, a woman could be seen, hurrying down the stone corridors, carrying in her arms a small present wrapped in the finest of gold wrappings. She was beautiful, with pale skin seemingly glowing and hair as white as snow, single black streaks here and there.
Drenched in water, her tall and intimidating frame was practically running, carefull as to not blow of her hood and smear her hastily thrown on makeup. Although makeup was the last thing on her mind right now, she still wanted to look presentable.
Finally reaching her destination, the woman pulled the hood of, and looked expectantly at the large and bulky woman standing guard by a small door. The door was separated from all the other cells, and looked a bit beaten down.
The guard unlocked the door and snickered.
"If you're here to bring life to their lifeless bodies, then please do. It's getting quite boring not hearing their screams of agony and sorrow anymore."
The woman glared at the guard, but didn't say anything as she stepped inside the small cell.
The cell was overcrowded by prisoners, like the others, but it had shackles on the walls, some of the prisoners hanging from them for who knows how long. Some of them, who were either sitting up or laying in fetal postitions, snapped their head up to look at the woman, a glint of something akin to hope in their murky eyes.
The woman payed no notice to the stares, but instead moved to one of the corners, were a small figure, curled like a ball, was laying. Its normaly platinum hair was dirty with stone and grime. The woman smiled, a small, sad smile. She knelt down and just started stroking the figure's head, combing her fingers through the dirty hair.
"Draco," she cooed, shaking him slightly to wake him. The figure, Draco, snapped his head up, looking at the woman for a moment before turning over and reaching with his arms for her.
"Mother," he said, weak and barely audible from disuse and screaming. The woman sighed, and pulled Draco into her arms. He relaxed greatly, practically melting into her embrace and burying his face into her shoulder.
"I'm here, Dragon."
They sat like that for a while, Draco's mother gently rocking him and telling him stories from both her and Draco's childhood, her laugh making Draco all warm inside. Draco listened carefully, knowing they didn't have much time together and she would have to leave soon.
An hour went by, Draco and his mother just enjoying their small and precious time together, until the cell door opened, and the same bulky woman signaled violently the time was up.
"Time's up."
The woman sighed and nodded, whispering to him before relucantly pulling away.
"Never lose hope, Dragon, promise me that."
Draco nodded, and his mother put the small present into his palm.
"Open it when the time seems right, my Dragon," she whispered into his ear, before standing away and casting one last look at him, walking out of the doors. On her way home, the woman cursed at herself, at the Ministry, at Azkaban, for just leaving her only remaining family there. She would never forget the pain-filled eyes staring after her as she left the prison, so full of hopelessness and lifelessness it was almost unbearable.
She swore she would get her revenge.
Narcissa Black Malfoy would get her revenge. One way or another.