Chapter Two: If Flesh Could Crawl My Skin Would Fall

The Portkey from the ministry to a salty shore, the rickety boat ride across gray water, being re-searched once arriving at the prison gates…it was all so ordinary. Ginny was almost disappointed at the process. Azkaban itself was a humourless gray place, as if the Dementors had managed to chase all colours away before they left. Despair still seeped from the walls and caused Ginny to shiver unexpectedly. The Aurors and guards looked harrowed and jaded.

"The prisoner requests to be met in an interrogation room," the Weasleys' host told them, reading from a memo, "and refuses to see George Weasley." Owls had been sent ahead of them while they boarded the boats, presumably to notify the Azkaban staff of their presence.

"That's fine," Ginny said impatiently, placing her hand on George's forearm to still the growl sounding deep in his throat.

"Then right this way, miss."

"Not too long," George warned, looking absolutely mutinous.

"I promise." Ginny followed the guard to a block of interrogation rooms and took her seat, facing the door of her chamber. The room was no different than anything else she'd been in. It was clammy. The walls were gray. The table was gray. The chairs were gray. There was a barred window in the door. It was eerily silent due to magical sound barriers insulating the chamber from the rest of the prison. Ginny was beginning to feel that there was a Dementor in the corner, draining her of any hope and good cheer she had. Shivering uncontrollably, she decided to focus instead on what she would say to Malfoy when he arrived. Hello, Malfoy. I see you're still alive. What a pity. Well, goodbye. That sounded pretty good. Hello, Malfoy. I hate you for threatening my family. I just thought you should know. That was pretty good, too.

A clang as the heavy bolt on the door drew back brought her out of her musings. The door opened, and Draco Malfoy was shoved through. Any snide comment on Ginny's lips died instantly.

He'd been beaten. There were small lacerations everywhere she could see. His black eye was stunning, already starting to fade to green around the edges, and his nose had clearly been broken. He wore torn prison robes and shackles around his hands and feet, but he looked at her with an eagle's pride. "Nick of time, Weaslette," he drawled around a split lip. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

"Malfoy," she breathed, both in wonder and horror. "What happened to you?"

"Had a family reunion," he replied, wincing as his attempt to plop casually into the chair went poorly. "Father. Not too happy to see me, I must say."

Intellectually, she knew she should be pleased to see Malfoy in this condition, but there was no pleasure in this. She was horrified. "Your dad did this?" She noticed faded yellow patches on his throat.

"It's what I deserved," he said, the lightheartedness in his voice ringing patently false to Ginny. "After all, I killed my mum. He went mad with rage."

"Malfoy, you didn't kill your mum. Voldemort killed your mum."

"Because of my failure. Anyways, it's water under the bridge."

"Water under the bridge? It looks like he tried to kill you!"

"But on the plus side, I've still got my luscious hair and my virgin arsehole."

"That's – you're disgusting, Malfoy."

"You think it doesn't happen here? I think it does. Speaking of virgins, how are you and Potter doing?"

If she'd been filled with revulsion a moment before, it gave way now to a flare of white-hot anger. "That's none of your business," she snarled. "You're always trying to talk about Harry with me. Are you in love with him or something?"

"Of course not," he shot back, flushing slightly. "I was just asking a question."

"This is crazy. I'm leaving."

"Don't go," he said over the scraping of her chair. "I kept my end of the bargain."

"You mean the blackmail?" she sneered. Ginny was glad George didn't know the half of the situation Malfoy had her in right now. The night he was taken by the Ministry, Draco had snuck through the Burrow's wards into her bedroom to warn her of an impending Death Eater attack. Percy had told the Death Eaters how to get through the wards. He had betrayed the entire family and was working on a Ministry spy for Voldemort to boot, and Ginny was too afraid to tell anyone. The Ministry didn't have any useful information, and it would kill her mum for it to come out in the presses that her son was a Death Eater. She needed time to find a way to get this taken care of quietly. Her mum had only recently stopped being furious with her, but only because Ron and Harry's disappearance had made her realize that Ginny still cared about Harry despite what she'd done to him.

Despite what Hermione had done to him, really. Amortentia was truly the breakfast of champions last year, and when Hermione finally confessed to Ginny before the Quiddich final that she had been dosing Harry with love potion to help him fall in love with her ("He just needs a little push, Ginny, it would happen eventually anyway") she'd been so desperate that she'd taken the information and run with it. No good deed goes unpunished, though, and Harry found out the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding why he'd been so attracted to Ginny but found it so easy to break up with her weeks later. Furious was an understatement, and Ron was completely on Harry's side, disowning both girls for their treachery. He was probably at Harry's side right now, leaving Hermione alone in disgrace in her Muggle home. She wondered where they were….

"I swear I haven't told a soul," he said, bringing his manacled hands over his heart and looking strangely earnest. "Please, stay a while longer."

"Can you act like a normal wizard, then? I don't want to hear about your arsehole and I don't want to be insulted. Just pretend for a moment that we're friends, not enemies."

He nodded mutely, looking appropriately chastened, and cleared his throat.

They stared at each other.

"How's the wand?" he asked finally.

"It's really nice," she said truthfully. "I'm really happy with it."

His lips pursed as he thought. "How…are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

Silence. "Talk to me, Ginny!" he exploded.

"I am."

"No, you're not." He buried his head in his hands. "Tell me something."

"What?"

"Anything! Pretend that you're MY friend!"

"Okay, okay…calm down." His voice was plaintive and whiny, but there was true wistfulness in there somewhere, and it affected her. What did they have in common? He'd summed it up before: pure-bloodedness, and being "stomped on by Potter". Nothing else came to mind. "Have you had any other visitors yet?"

"No."

Now who wasn't talking! "No one? Not even Parkinson, or-"

"Pansy broke up with me."

She was intrigued in spite of herself. "You're kidding."

"You sound so surprised."

"Well, I just figured…she's so besotted with you…."

"Well, she decided I was spending too much time trying to save my mother's life instead of being with her," he explained with an edge of bitterness.

It was almost as if he had real feelings. "…I'm sorry, Malfoy."

"No you're not."

"Actually, I am. At least someone would be visiting you then."

"You are."

"I meant habitually."

"Yeah. You."

"Malfoy, I've got school. I can't come visit you, even if I wanted to, and believe me, I don't."

"You're visiting me on Hogsmeade weekends, or else."

"I really hate you," she said, but her intonation was weak. She'd half-expected something like this.

"We've established that. So yes, that's the state of my love life. No girlfriend, virgin arsehole. Let's talk about you."

"My love life?"

"Sure, let's start with that."

"Let's not," she said stiffly.

"Awww. And here I thought we were friends."

"Can I go yet?"

"Tell me a story first," he said, fixing intent eyes on her. The sight of his broken nose was distracting. "Then you can go. Please," he implored when she hesitated. "The monotony here is killing me. Give me something else to think about."

"The monotony's killing you after two weeks? You do realize you're in here for life, right?"

"A story. A real one."

"I- I don't have any. None that I can tell you, anyways." His lower lip moved incrementally. Was a seventeen-year-old Junior Death Eater pouting? "How's this, Malfoy, since you insist I come back, I promise to tell you all about school next time I visit."

He still looked sulky. "So that's it? You're just going to leave me like this, bored out of my skull?"

"I wish boredom was the most of my problems!" she snapped.

"Well, what else is wrong?" he asked reasonably.

"I don't think so, Malfoy. Goodbye." She got up and rapped on the door.

Malfoy scowled. "You'd better bring me a bag of Peppermint Toads when you come back, or else!" he called out as she was led out of the room.

"Cockroach clusters, you say?"

"I mean it, Ginny! and-" The rest was cut off as she passed into the hallway.

"Everything settled?" George asked gruffly when he spied her. It looked like he had been pacing since she left.

"Thank you so much, George," she said, ignoring the question.

"I was thinking about it while you were in there, and I don't think anyone would believe him if he said anything. After all, he's in prison and we're the reason, of course he'd say things like that. I'm never coming back here," he declared, glancing at the walls suspiciously, as if they would take offense, "and you're not either."

Ginny bowed her head. "Of course not," she murmured.

She wondered where she'd get the money for that many Peppermint Toads.