Day 9-Draco:
"You know?" Draco asked. "You know why they brought me here?"
Astoria's eyes rolled into the back of her head and then she collapsed back onto her mattress, her lips forming whispers. She sighed heavily and turned over onto her side, her eyelids fluttering rapidly, and she reached up and twined her fingers through a chunk of her hair.
"Astoria?" Draco murmured, and then sunk to his knees. He bowed his head. "You have to tell me. You have to tell me what you just saw." He glanced up and stared at Astoria, who tossed and turned back on the mattress, her arms flinging carelessly as she wrestled with a fully blown bout of sleep. How she had fallen asleep again, so quickly, Draco was unsure. But he wasn't about to let her slumber last much longer. His heart quickened pace. "Astoria!"
She woke at his shout, jumping out of her cot with cat-like agility, her eyes wide and her hands clenched into fists, as if someone had called out her name as an attack. After a moment of silence, she realized what she had done, and slowly lowered her fists and relaxed her stance.
"Sorry," she mumbled, her cheeks a bit rosy. "Instincts never die."
Draco didn't think at the moment to ask what possible instincts would provoke such a reaction, but instead leaned his forehead against the cell bars, congealed sweat rubbing off on the metal.
"You woke up just a little while ago," Draco said. "Do you remember that? You spoke to me, and then just…passed out."
"What?" Astoria said. She smirked. "I think you're losing it, this is most definitely the way I woke up this morning. Believe me, it's embarrassing enough to admit I woke up with fists at the ready, so, yeah, this is the first time I've gotten up this morning. Now turn around, I need to pee."
"What did you dream about?" Draco asked, pressing the issue, his hands quaking as he laced them together and slid them behind his head.
"That's kind of personal," Astoria said, her cheeks growing even redder, as if blush had stained her skin.
"Look, I don't want the details unless they have something to do with me. You were screaming my name like it was life or death, and I just…you sat up. And you spoke to me. You told me you know why I'm imprisoned here. And I don't. I still don't know." Draco felt a frustrated lump rise in his throat and he turned away from Astoria, wishing for some goddamn privacy, just once.
"I'm sorry," Astoria said. "Look, I…I don't remember what I dreamt about. I don't remember dreaming at all. I don't even know if I've seen you since before May, even. There's no reason I would know why you're here."
"You're right," Draco said. He sat the floor, legs sprawled.
"Some privacy, please?" Astoria said, gesturing to the toilet. "I have to pee."
Draco turned around, propping up his back against the cell bars. "It's a weird feeling, knowing you have no privacy."
"I haven't had privacy in a long time," Astoria replied. "They're always watching us. I can feel it."
"But I mean, no privacy between you and I," Draco said, closing his eyes, as if that could drown out the fact that Astoria was, most likely, using the toilet behind his back. "I mean, at Hogwarts, it was a huge school. Massive. And yet, I always had a shred of privacy, even living in a dormitory with however many people…it was such a private place that you could even go unnoticed."
"Well now I can't concentrate," Astoria announced, annoyed. "I can't even get the privacy to pee in this place."
"Sorry," Draco said. And then he couldn't help it. He chuckled. "I don't think a girl has said that to me before."
"Don't get used to it," Astoria replied, but when Draco turned his head to peer over his shoulder, she was smiling to herself, unaware that he could see her. "I'm sure many girls would be happy to be this close to you, in this proximity all the time."
"Maybe," Draco said, thought when he thought about some of the girls he had gone to school with, he knew she was right. "But a lack of privacy, actually being okay with it, is like a two way street. I wouldn't want them to invade my privacy, and I was uncomfortable when they did."
Astoria kicked a pebble across the way and it went flying over Draco's shoulder. He turned to stare at her. She looked quite striking in the hazy morning light.
"Does it make you uncomfortable?" She asked. "My being here? I can always ignore you."
"No, please don't," Draco said quickly. Too quickly. She raised an eyebrow. "Right now, your company is the only thing that makes me feel comfortable."
Day 135: Astoria-
They came to her cell early in the morning, before the sun even had a chance to rise. There were four of them, three men and Enid. They yanked open the cell doors with a clattering metal echo that made Astoria leap from her bed, kicking her legs as the figures approached her, arms outstretched.
"What are you doing?" Astoria screeched as the hands grabbed her shoulders, two of the burlier men holding her still. Draco had woken from the commotion across the way, and blurrily stood up to watch what was going on. Astoria let out an angry shriek as the hands held her more tightly, binding her shoulders from moving even an inch.
"Hey," Draco shouted, just as angry as Astoria was. "What are you doing to her?"
"None of your business," Enid snapped, the mole above her lip quivering distastefully. She pointed her wand at Draco's cell, and Draco's lips continued to move, but no sound came out.
"It's my business!" Astoria said, still attempting to wriggle out of the grip of the guards who held her. "What is this? You can't treat me like this!"
Enid ignored her. "You're getting just what you wanted. Democracy treats even the scum well. You have a court date today."
Astoria stopped moving and stared at her. "A court date? How was I not informed of this?"
"It's just to gather testimony, a standard procedure."
"I'm not going until I know what this is about," Astoria protested. Enid looked to the guards who held Astoria. She nodded at one, and Astoria felt a large, meaty hand settle over her eyes. Another hand pinched the base of her neck, not softly, and Astoria felt her vision grown fuzzy, and her body suddenly felt warm and weightless. And then she drifted off.
When she came to, Astoria was standing in a long, dark hallway, with guards still flanking her sides. They had bound her hands together in iron cuffs, as though she could escape with men the size of sumo wrestlers watching her every move.
"Where am I?" She demanded of one of them. He did not reply, but kept his gaze ahead. He had a long scar down the side of his rock-like jaw, and Astoria silently applauded whoever gave it to him. From down the hallway, she heard a series of shouts, and then a door being opened and closed. Cold, drifting shadows that faintly resembled ghosts were visible at that end of the hall, lurking in the dark. Dementors. She shuddered anxiously, and glanced down at her own feet, covered in the plain canvas sneakers she was permitted to wear, but only without laces.
A few moments passed, and then another door in the hallway opened. A man with a thin, long nose and curly red hair emerged and beckoned to the guards, who seized Astoria so swiftly and tightly that she felt her feet leave the floor. They guided her right inside the room, past the red-haired man, as Astoria continued to hiss curses and kick her legs in protest. Of course, her efforts were futile.
They had brought her to a courtroom. She didn't recognize the room, of course, as she had never been to court before. It was an intimidating room, with ceilings that stretched so tall that Astoria couldn't even see where they ended. There was a large podium that stretched over her head, and at the top sat a woman that looked vaguely familiar. The guards roughly shoved Astoria into a golden chair in the center of the room, a chair that was overlooked by rows of seats inhabited by a few Ministry employees, wearing noteworthy plum colored robes.
"Astoria Greengrass." The woman at the podium announced, peering down at her with a pained expression, as if Astoria's presence was a waste of her time. She wore a bushel of hair up in a knot on top of her head. On the chest of her robes was the telltale silver W. Wizengamot. "We have called you here from the Crouch Imprisonment Facility in order to extract testimony that may prove valuable to the Wizarding Community concerning the series of events on May 2, 1998, as well as events leading up to the date in question."
"I want a lawyer," Astoria barked, interrupting the woman. The woman fixed her with a witheringly conceited gaze.
"A third party is not required for the testimony we intend to elicit today. Miss Greengrass, we have called you in today in order to ask you a series of questions regarding Draco Lucius Malfoy, a former student of Hogwarts and a current prisoner at the Crouch Imprisonment Facility."
"What does that mean?" Astoria shouted, shaking her hands angrily in the cuffs, which cut deeply into her skin. She winced as a drop of blood squeezed out, dropping onto her left shoe and staining the canvas.
"Miss Greengrass, if you continue to hold this court in contempt, we will have no choice but to prolong your sentence." Astoria grimaced. "Now." The witch leaned over the podium, her bushy hair beginning to unwind from the knot on her head. Astoria recoiled.
She had seen Hermione Granger on more than one occasion. It was hard not to miss her. Bushy hair, fast-paced walk, and a high-pitched voice that always projected an aura of ostentatious knowledge. But here, now, surrounded by colleagues and put in a place of power, round-shouldered Hermione Granger had never seemed so terrifying.
"You were present at the Battle of Hogwarts on May 2, 1998, were you not?"
"Yes," Astoria whispered, her voice cracking in fear. She shut her eyes as Hermione gazed down at her. Hermione Granger, best friend of the boy who lived…
"You stayed during this battle, though you were a member of the Slytherin House, were you not?"
"I stayed, yes." Hermione had always seemed to have her nose in a book, never the type to seem so aggressive…
"During the course of the battle, did you see Draco Lucius Malfoy at any time?"
"No," Astoria responded immediately.
Hermione glared at her. "If you do not tell the truth, we will be forced to give you veritruserum. Think before you speak."
Astoria felt her stomach heave, and her body was jumpy with nerves. She closed her eyes. She had seen Draco that night, she had seen almost every one that evening. But what had he been doing? In her mind's eye, she watched as Draco ran through the crowd, pulling his wand from the pocket of his robes. He held it aloft, took aim, and fired off a curse that buried itself in the chest of… Astoria's mind, at that moment, went curiously blank. A screen of white draped itself over her mind's eye, blocking her vision, her memory. When she spoke, her voice was stronger, calmer, than it had been before.
"I saw Draco, yes."
"Please entail exactly what you saw him doing."
"He was running." Astoria thought of the way he had raised his wand, ready to attack, and paused. This, she thought, was not something to share with the crowd that surrounded her. "He ran towards the grounds."
Hermione stared at her with an expression of disbelief. "Is that all you saw?"
Astoria stared back, determined. "I saw more, but not of Draco Malfoy." She turned her head to look down the Wizengamot members. "I do not know why you are holding him against his will, I haven't even a clue why you were looking for him in the first place, but I can assure you that I have known Draco Malfoy since I was young. And yes, he may be arrogant and sarcastic, but that is hardly the makings of a criminal. In fact, as I remember, those were traits that Harry Potter himself often exhibited during his stay at Hogwarts." Astoria glared. "Draco Malfoy did nothing to harm anyone the evening of May 2nd, if he's guilty of anything, it was trying to protect those he was loyal to, jut as everyone else was trying to do."
"I think," Hermione said carefully, after Astoria gulped in a deep breath, carefully eyeing a set of dementors that had positioned themselves behind the podium. "We will be the judges of that. You're dismissed until the next court date, Miss Greenwood." She banged a gavel on the podium, and Astoria felt the guards hands wrap around her upper arms, dragging her backwards from the room. The doors closed behind Astoria with a hollow bang, drowning out her shouts of protest from the members of Wizengamot.
"Do you think it triggered the memory?" One of the members asked, gazing upon Hermione.
"It certainly looked like it," Hermione replied, tugging at the neck of her robes. "Poor little Miss Greenwood, so unused to not getting her way. I can sense the rebellion in her heart. She will use it to our advantage."
"Let's certainly hope so," piped up another member of Wizengamot.
Hermione smiled, a smile that might have been beautiful, had it not been twisted with a sense of sick power. And then, suddenly, the skin began to break out into boils, bubbling madly into a different shape. The other members of Wizengamot stood in respectful silence, with others seemingly experiencing the same symptoms, their jaws slack. When the process had ended, Daphne Greengrass stood where Hermione had, smiling in the same, maniacal way.
"I'm getting ever so sick of these games," Daphne sighed, tucking her glossy hair behind her ears. "I can't wait to break that bitch."