A/N: Woo, that last chapter totally got my hyped about writing..this chapter. Well, not really. Sort of..? Nah. 8th Grade is killing me guys, I really am sorry. This story is just so damn slow. RAWR, I'm sorry, I want to be a frequent updater, but it's getting harder and harder to write when there's so much left I have to say, so much left I have to write.

"One day, that boy might break you."

"Draco Malfoy?" Hermione said the name with a distasteful tone.

"For slapping him, yes. So make sure if he ever takes the mickey out of you, you make note of shatter reflexes." Hermione gave him a flat look-another one of her dads made up phrases.

"How strong we are in a bad situation. The 'shatter' comes from the impart of the occurrence, see, and the 'reflex' is the way we react. Therefor, my new term makes sense." He folded his arms and nodded, making it official as Hermione shook her head.

"Webster would be proud," She laughed. he placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her laughter abruptly.

"You're getting to be a big girl now, you're already 13,and how the time has flown by! Tell me they'll be strong."

She smiles warmly at her father. "Oh, I'll make sure my shatter reflexes"-she made wavering air quotes-"are strong."

He nodded and lowered his eyes to his dinner plate. "Good girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Pass the chips, please."

Shaking furiously, she opened her eyes, blinding light coming down when she saw black hair hanging down over her, the very ends brushing her face delicately. "'Mione..?" it echoed throughout her when she saw blazing red hair join in the mix of colors. She blinked, adjusting her eyes to see a concerned Harry and Ginny. She turned her head, visualizing her floor in her and Draco's room.

"Please, are you all right now?" Ginny's long lashes came in and out of focus. Hermione paled, turning her head to the side and not speaking. A thousand thoughts hit her at once.

'Dumbledore. Strange. Wedding. Hearse. Weasley. Arrested. Murder. Draco. Run. Tied. Auror. Harry. Ron. Deceived. Invisible. Hermione. Fired. Harry. Left. Draco. Arrested. Invisible. Dumbledore. Strange. Wedding. Hearse. Weasley. Arrested. Murder. Draco. Run. Tied. Auror. Harry. Ron. Deceived. Invisible. Hermione. Fired. Harry. Left. Draco. Arrested. Invisible Hermione thought slowly in her head, a never ending loop.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry turned her towards him, gently leaning on her shoulder. Harry's eyebrows shot up; her eyes were lifeless and shallow as she stared up at her as if she were a stranger.

Ginny's eyes widened as she leaned up, staring at Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Granger, and Ron. "it's no use."

Mrs. granger leaned down, tears in her eyes. "Hermione? It's your mother, remember, Hermy? It's Mummy!" Hermione refused to talk, her eyes wide and seemingly empty of emotion.

"I-I think she may be in shock.." Ginny said in a shaky tone. He reached a hand to her arm, her wedding dress ruffling as she did so. Hermione tugged away from her, her mind pleading her to leave her be. When she tried to pull her up, Hermione groaned and she let her go, snapping up quickly.

"And I also think she doesn't want to be touched much," Ron said quietly. Hermione suddenly got to her feet tot he surprise of the group.

"Hermione, you're okay now?" It was more of a statement than a question Ginny said as she tries to hug her. But from tired, furious eyes, she glared at Ron and muttered, "You."

Ron looked taken aback slightly, but regained his composure. "I'm sorry about what happened, 'Mione, I-"

"What the bloody hell you mean, "I'm sorry?"! You caused it! You ratted him out, you made them think that he tried to kill me, you told him, you told Kingsley and Kingsley must've told Scrimigeour, you!" She then lunged at Ron, but Ginny and Mrs. Granger wrapped then arms around her waist. "Let me go!"

"Hermione." Harry stepped forward with a serious face. "You can't believe that, could you?"

"Who else was it then, hmm, genius?" Hermione spat. "Who else than the only person out of all of you who doesn't want to leave me to be happy, the only one who's still mourning over his non-existent schoolgirl sweetheart?!"

Ron stepped forward, just as furious. "Now wait a bloody second, I thought we were-"

"ENOUGH!" Mrs. Weasley cried, stepping between the four. "I don't want any more fighting! Let's just calm down.." Her voice didn't seem to sooth Hermione-at this point, she looked quite deranged, like an insane bride.

"You did it too, you heard the Auror. You went with him." Hermione snarled at him. Harry clenched his jaw, then turned away from her, an angry shadow cast on his face.

"I don't want to speak about his anymore," Harry muttered away from her, looking towards Ginny.

"You were fired, Harry. Understand? You can't go around being the head wizard at the Ministry, and you can't dismiss me like that either!" Hermione yelled.

"He can do whatever he wants, you need silencing, you've gone-"

"You two!" Hermione suddenly cried. "Get the hellout of my house! NOW!"

"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger said a final time. She looked furious towards her mother. "No, no, Mum. I'm tired of this shite! I will not have them disrespect, nor lie to me. Now get out!" She shouted. Ron shook his head and Disapparated.

"Harry, I'll come with-" Harry turned around and looked at Ginny, livid.

"I think Hermione needs time to sort out her head." And he was gone. Hermione's front was down and she slouched her shoulders in defeat.

"I'd like to be alone now." The women moved from the room without a word. She fell back onto her bed and listened, eyes closed at the cracks, the women Disapparating. Swallowing deeply, she realized Harry was right-she did need to sort out her head.

He urged to just get one chance to scratch at his eyes, just one. He wanted to scratch at even his own eyes, to know his location-the blindfold was killing him.

"We're here.." He heard a slow, deep voice utter to another. The blindfold was torn from his eyes rather brutally and the sunlight blinded. As he covered his eyes with his hands, sunlight peeking through his fingers, he managed to squint his eyes to see a large triangular building, made of incredibly large blocks. But as he squinted further, those blocks was made of the same until they were minuscule squares to him in the distance.

His eyes traveled downward and he swallowed heavily-it was a murky, deep, ocean blue beneath the hearse that flew, threstrals whinnying to keep up every time they were whipped by Percy. Draco looked skyward and saw the cloudless sky. He traveled back to look at the center and noticed something he had not before; when he looked at building as a whole, there seemed to be a shimmering cover to it. He realized what this was one they came into a manageable view of the prison.

There was a translucent shimmering share, like a ghost of a rectangular booth in which a fairly aged witch. She looked rather as if she didn't want to be there, her face sullen and tired. She leaned out, her body from the waist down invisible behind the barely visible booth.

"Name?" She yawned.

"Percy Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt, here to turn in Draco Malfoy, murderer or Hermione Granger as of earlier last year, and Death Eater for a total of 3 weeks." Percy stated matter-of-factly.

"Wonderful!" Her face lit up and she looked in the back of the hearse, an alarmed Draco visible. She shot him a disgusted look and turned around, then turned back, giving him a silver ticket.

"Number 1445692, 6th Section, 1st Half, 122nd Floor, Cell 600054." She stated in a monotone voice, sending Draco chills as she threw his either a disgusted or incredulous looks.

"Why thank you, Doris." Percy had replied in such a fake voice, it made him gag when she giggled in return.

"You're very welcome Mr. Weasley." And slowly,they entered the dome like shape around the prison. But the strange occurrence was as the hearse entered, Draco noticed the sky.

The carriage was nearly three thirds of the way in, and that three thirds of the sky, was dark, gloomy, and otherwise, just rainy. His throat clenches as the sunny area around him disappeared.

"Going to need this," Percy muttered to himself, putting a long coat around his shoulders, and in a moment, the blonde haired convict felt why; a shuddering cold trickled down his back, his cheeks becoming flushed and his breath visible in the darkness around him.

The long cloaked Dementors were seen hovering over the top of the prison, turned towards the hearse and Draco could seen the emotion, even though it was not plainly visible, that they hungered for his happiness; but he'd be damned before if the memory of what happiness is would be taken away.

Draco let out a shallow, empty laugh. "What do you have to laugh about?" Percy said in a short voice, impatient.

"Oh. Nothing. You see, for some reason, you think my bloody fiancee is dead, even though she was visibly there. On the day of our wedding, you decide to interrupt it, waste all of my damned money, emotionally destroy my future wife, who, just nitpick at it in case you forgot, is not dead, because you seem to misunderstand th-"

'Silencio!' Percy cried, ensuing Draco his silence.

"No, don't be a fool." Lucius snarled at his son.

"But, Father, that little rat-haired girl is getting higher marks! Just one curse..?" Draco whined to him. His mother gave a reproachful look, yet remained silent.

"No, Draco." He waved his goblet at him with vigor. "While emotions run dry for that little Mudblood, always be in control."

"Control...? I have that," Draco said smugly, yet his father glared.

"You do not know what complete control is once you've experienced it, Draco. Always be in control. It's a Malfoy's pride."

"I thought the Malfoy's pride was "Destroy All Mudbloods." Draco snickered.

"Enough!" Narcissa finally spoke up, sounding louder as the high pitched command echoed off the walls. Father and son glared at each other, before looking back to their respective dinners.

"Has a mouth on him." Lucius muttered.

A quiet, but outraged expression, he slumped back, glaring furiously at, if he could, himself, for not being in control. I should always be in control. Once they slowly descended to the castle, a rotten stench entered Draco's nostrils, causing them to flare as he coughed, silent from the spell. They pulled into a small area for parking the carriage, the threstrals snarling, possibly also smelling the scent. Brutally, Draco was pushed from an invisible source, causing him to stumble out of the hearse. Kingsley had him held at once and pushed him into this small, seemingly deserted fireplace. The walls were blackened and smelled like charred plastic.

"Wha-" Draco started, but Kingsley had murmured something and dropped and powder before his feet. Draco calmed once the green flames engulfed him, but no. He surveyed his feet. The flames spreading up him were not green, yet a staggeringly bright blue that burned him like a normal fire would. He bit on his lip, a rough pulling at his torso as he closed his eyes, trying to deflect the pain. But when it became too much, he opened his eyes and his mouth to scream when he was hurdled out of the fireplace and into a stone, cold wall.

Draco panted, looking at the wall and the several marks that covered it. Some drawings, possibly from the fickle pieces of stone that were broken off and jutted out of the freezing floor. Some were tallies, stretching from one wall to another, getting more dizzied than the rest until he last dragged to the floor unevenly, a desperate attempt to record the prisoners last day here. He ran his fingers down it when a powerful voice said behind him, "Welcome, Number 1445692." he whipped around.

A young person was sitting, leaning their back against the wall. That person wore long dark jeans that overly were baggy, chains hanging from the pockets and the knees and a tight, black t-shirt that said something he couldn't make out.

What amazed him most was the fact that when the person lifted a fringe of their long rimmed, black hat, blonde curls spilled out from it, reminding Draco of Goldilocks, the way they shined, spreading out and long. Shockingly green eyes met his own grey. She smiles crookedly. "They call me number 144569..." She raises her pale finger and swings it in front of her face, watching it with mock amazement. "1. Welcome to Azkaban, life-cell-mate. Then again, my name is Mona." She smiles, tipping the hat further down over her eyes.

A/N: Bleh, it's not much, but I wrote the fuck out of Jarte. Wait..what?