--don't own don't sue..ta!
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Old Friends
Lucius Malfoy spent his 43rd birthday alone in his cell. He sat silently in the corner, counting the seconds as they passed by. It had become a sort of ritual over the past year. Start the day by pacing your cell and stretching your legs, then after your fist meal you rest and let it settle. There wasn't much to eat. So there was no use if you just burnt the calories away before they could be of any use to you. He was so thin his ribcage was the widest part of him, and he felt weak, very weak. His hair fell to his lower back in thick matted dreads, and a full beard obscured half his face, tinted with grey hairs as colourless as his eyes had become.
He still had Wormtail's wand in his possession, but knew it would be useless to attempt escape at this moment. He needed to plan, not risk losing the wand in a pathetic act of desperation. He had stuffed it behind the small hole in the wall that Wormtail had squeezed through as a rat. He knew the coward would not return. The Dark Lord would have been bored of threatening him now, and if he was to be punished, it would be Draco and Narcissa who would suffer for it.
He scratched another line into the wall, and wrote XLIII next to it idly. How many more years would he live out here? His walls had become a doodle pad of aggression, hatred and self-loathing. He had drawn the dark-mark on the far wall facing him, a constant reminder of what he had done. Signed his life away without thinking. Was death far better than this?
"Ahem." Boris, his jailor coughed to get his attention. Lucius frowned in puzzlement. He turned his head slowly to glare at the auror, who was looking around uncomfortably, hands clasped firmly behind his back. Talking to each other wasn't forbidden, but apart from some abusive cursing, sneers and taunts, they didn't talk much to each other. All they had was a mutual respect. That was enough.
Showing that he was in no particular hurry nor mood for a verbal war, Lucius slowly stood up and stretched, then lazily stalked over to the front of the cell. "You coughed?" he sneered as he casually leant against the iron bars.
The auror didn't sneer back, didn't frown. He looked a little distressed. Clearly he was meant to report something, for he kept looking back to his superior down the hall. Lucius followed his gaze, and watched as the older jailor gave the younger a slow, grave nod to continue.
Boris withdrew a newspaper, most likely the Daily Prophet, and tentatively thrust it between the bars toward Lucius. He was shaking, and Malfoy gripped the paper tightly, and watched as his jailor sprinted away at great speed. Prisoners were generally not allowed access to such papers unless they had special treatment, and Lucius, despite his vast wealth and constant bribery attempts, had no such treatment. So why on earth were they allowing him to read it? He unfolded it carefully. Without his reading glasses he struggled to process it's words, and read it slowly.
Boris reached the desk at the end of the narrow corridor, stood silently next to his superior, and braced himself for the screams that were to follow in a short time.
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Murder and Mayhem at Hogwarts
The world stood still today as news reached the public's ears of the brutal murder of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwart's school for Witchcraft and Wizardry…
…Sworn nemesis and presumably the only one you-know-who ever feared, Albus Dumbledore was considered one of the most powerful men alive, and one of the greatest of all time…
…The hunt goes on for former potions master Professor Severus Snape, a pardoned deatheater during the Dark Lord's first reign of terror, and non other than 17 yr old Draco Malfoy, heir of the Malfoy fortune and son of convicted deatheater Lucius Malfoy. Both are believed to be the main proprietors of the attack, which left three dead (Albus Dumbledore and an as yet unnamed Auror and deatheater), ten injured and one man (now revealed to be Billius Weasley, eldest son of Ministry worker Arthur Weasley) in intensive care…
…The identity of the captured Deatheaters have not yet been revealed though there are unconfirmed reports that notorious child-killer and werewolf Fenrir Greyback is among the prisoners…
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Harry scanned the Daily Prophet as his tears dripped from his cheeks onto the inky pages. He had snatched it from Ron not a moment after he had once again burst into sobs, and started cuddling Hermione. They were in the Gryffindor common room. All students had been ordered to pack their belongings and prepare for immediate departure after the funeral service.
The article continued through most of the paper, and his eyes were too watery to read it all. There was a section on Severus Snape, and his betrayal, which Harry angrily skipped, then a section on Draco and his father, which he scanned through lazily, only to spot a separate headline at the bottom of the page in bold writing, which highlighted a small article.
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Suicide at Malfoy Manor
The search for Draco Malfoy, 17yr old deatheater and wanted murderer, spread to his home in Wiltshire last night. Aurors searched the grand Manor house that belonged to generations of the Malfoy family, only to discover the body of one Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy and mother to Draco, and a number of dead house-elves. The ministry denies any evidence of 'foul play' and have not yet revealed whether the death of Mrs. Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore are somehow connected. General suspicion points to suicide due to severe depression, though an investigation is underway to account for the deceased elves.
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"My god." Harry whispered. Ginny leant over and cradled his head on her shoulder.
"Shhh…its okay." She attempted to console him, but he pushed the paper in front of her, to show her his discovery.
"No. Look!" he pointed at the small article at the bottom of the page. A tiny picture of the grounds of Malfoy Manor swarming with ministry officials was printed next to it.
Ginny read the article, and looked as shocked as Harry. "That's horrible…I mean the woman was vile, but it's just…horrible. How can one family be so messed up?"
"I blame the father!" Harry sniffed angrily. The memories of the previous night were still fresh in his mind. He knew that Draco had only done what he did to save his parents. Had Lucius never joined the deatheaters in the first place, their lives would have been so different.
Hermione and Ron took the paper from Ginny and said nothing. What could they say? Poor Malfoy? Poor Narcissa?
"The Dark Lord has ripped their family apart and yet Draco follows him?" Hermione shook her head.
"He's ripped apart many people's lives." Harry pointed out, he being the most memorable. He had lost his parents, his godfather, and now Dumbledore…his mentor.
Neville lost both his parents to madness, Susan Bones her aunt, uncle and cousins, Ron had nearly lost Bill and Ginny, never mind two uncles. The list of victims was endless.
"Yeah he has." Ron was ripping off the corners of the newspaper and throwing them into the fire, watching them dissolve into ash. Bill had been whisked away to Saint Mungo's that morning, and Ron had been asked to stay behind and look after Ginny. Nurses at Mungo's would not have appreciated all the other Weasleys (save Percy) and Fleur at Bill's side, even if they were all family.
Harry pulled out the necklace, which had turned out to be a false Horcrux, and cradled it in his palm. His anger bubbled inside of him, and he knew he had to continue the search without Dumbledore. He owed him that.
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Sure enough, a roar emanated from the cell of the blonde deatheater. An angry roar and a desperate roar. No man likes to discover your wife has killed herself, not even a killer.
For once his jailors were sympathetic. They did not laugh, nor smile at his pain, and stood patiently and waited as he poured out what was left in his black heart.
Lucius clutched the paper in his fist grimacing. He shook from intense anger and hatred, as if his heart had been ripped out from his chest. Cissy was dead and it was his fault. He slammed his fists against the bars, pounding them with all his strength. He roared and screamed out his aggression and despair then collapsed to his knees as it sunk in. She was gone. Draco was in danger. He had to get out…soon.
A sound of rattling chains and Auror's footsteps echoed down the long corridor. Lucius was in too much of a wreck to care much at this moment. Until he heard them speaking.
"Gotchya a niiice cosy little cell up here, hope you like it!" A slimy wizard that stank of alcohol and smoke spoke maliciously at his captive. Lucius heard a snarl and a muffled roar, and felt his curiosity heave him off the floor of his cell and wipe his tears away. Looking out from the bars he shivered.
Fenrir Greyback was tied up, chained and muzzled. He snapped and roared at his guards, spitting on them every second he could. "GERROFF 'EEE!" he was shouting. The metal muzzle was designed to stop him from biting, and fastened his jaws in place, so he could barely say coherent words. It looked like a giant iron vice clamped onto his face, with spikes and hinges that jutted out at the sides. It also looked painfully heavy.
"Greyback!" Lucius gasped. Seeing yet another familiar face after a year was refreshing, even if it was a face you didn't necessarily like, Fenrir and he had known each other for over a decade, and they respected one another.
"LUTHIUS?" The werewolf tried to focus his eyes in the darkness. Even a wolfman, who was used to prowling in the moonlight, could not see well in this hell they called a prison. "THA' YOU? CAN' THEE A THING!" His eyes were wide and desperate, like those of a terrified child. For a deatheater with such a fierce reputation, this was a very peculiar sight.
"SHUT UP!" an auror barked as he fumbled for the keys to Fenrir's cell. "Who the hell decided to put these two together?" He growled. "They'll be up all night!"
"Reminiscing no doubt!" Boris said. He gave Malfoy a respectful nod. It seemed after many months of being in each other's company, he had softened to Malfoy. Lucius guessed Boris was the one who allowed Fenrir to be placed in the cell next to him as a 'kind' gesture.
"Curl up and die Boris!" Malfoy sneered, wiping the tears from his eyes. Then nodded back to him in thanks.
"You first Malfoy!" Boris watched as Fenrir was locked in and then returned to the desk with the aurors. They were busy filling in forms and Lucius decided to get some answers.
"Greyback…I heard the news…what happened? where's Draco?" Lucius asked.
"Thn…Thnae…Thnape …I can' thpeek!" Greyback snarled and slammed himself against his cell door over and over angrily. He was struggling with his muzzle, and that combined with the anger and humiliation of having to wear one was making him increasingly enraged. He roared and sprayed saliva as he tried to talk.
Lucius felt deep sympathy for the werewolf. He had not had the honour of a muzzle, which looked like a cross between a huge medieval torture device and a horse bit clamped onto the lower half of your skull. Malfoy was never inclined to bite his jailors. His bite wasn't poisonous either.
"Greyback listen to me…you have to calm down…there's no point fighting, believe me, I know!" Lucius said to the beast.
Fenrir gave one final slam on his door, then slid down it to his knees. He was clearly very distressed. He was facing life in a straight jacket and muzzle, with no chance of escape. He groaned and grimaced. Azkaban would break every man at some point. Lucius had shed and screamed his fair share of tears, as had Rodolphus it seemed, who was on the brink of death after only one year. How he, Bellatrix and Rabastian had survived fifteen years and kept the majority of their sanity was a miracle. Now Rodolphus was back…and he was giving up.
"Fenrir please…is Draco alright?" Lucius asked again.
"I thin' tho! I thaw hi' leathe!" Fenrir called.
Words could not describe the relief that Lucius felt. He was still shaken from hearing the news of Narcissa, but at least their son was safe.
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