Chapter 6
Harry went back the next weekend.
His footsteps echoed in the dank halls leading up to Malfoy’s former cell.
His former cell mate looked worse than he did the week before, body limp and eyes glazed over.
“Oi!” Harry shouted, hoping to get him out of his stupor, and to ease his own discomfort at the sight.
Yaxley’s gaze slowly met Harry’s, eyes blinking as if waking from a dream.
“Oh,” he said gruffly. Cleared his throat. “And how can I be of assistance today, Auror Potter?”
Harry narrowed his eyes taking in Yaxley’s expression.
He still wore a grotesque smirk, but there was something about him that looked eager to see Harry, something anticipatory.
“Well?” The old man sniffed. “I haven’t got all day you know. Books don’t read themselves.”
Harry snorted. “Really? Because it seems to me you have all the time in the world…at least as long as you’re for it.”
Yaxley glared, dropping the smirk. He crossed over to the bars of his cell, coming face to face with Harry.
“Fine. What do you want?”
Harry considered the question for a moment, then answered with his own.
“If you were out of here, if you’d been given your freedom right now — what would you do?”
Yaxley looked startled, but only for a moment.
“I don’t know,” he said nonchalantly, looking at his nails. “Something sinister no doubt.”
Then, “why? What’s my former roommate up to?”
“Well for one thing, he’s helping the department with our cases,” Harry said, looking for clues in Yaxley’s reactions.
The news didn’t seem to bother him.
“Right. And?”
“And he’s led us to some of your friends. Namely, Malfoy senior.”
At this, Yaxley’s entire demeanour changed. He froze, eyes going wide for a moment before seeming to recall he had an audience.
Harry took this in with interest.
“Yeah, he led us straight to him, hiding out in Venice of all places, with the Mrs. She’s in custody now.”
Yaxley grabbed the bars. “In cust-? What of Lucius?”
Harry eyed Yaxley before casually dropping the news.
“Dead,” he shrugged.
Yaxley stumbled backwards landing on his cot, head falling into his hands.
“How?” Came the whisper from between his hands.
“He was resisting arrest, fired a curse at an Auror and it backfired. Didn’t know you cared, Yaxley.”
At that, Yaxley let out an unhinged laugh, once again meeting Harry’s gaze.
“I don’t,” he spat viciously.
“The real question is, did Draco?” He asked, the name sounding foreign coming from his mouth.
Harry again took a moment to consider the question, the wheels turning in his head.
In truth, Malfoy hadn’t seemed to care at the time, or at least not as much as Harry expected him to.
He’d always been loyal to his parents, protective even. So it did strike Harry as strange that he’d be so willing to sell them out now.
Of course there was the matter of abandonment—no doubt leaving him to rot in Azkaban while they sipped wine and soaked up the sun left a bitter taste in Malfoy’s mouth.
But to go so far as to ensure their deaths? To have his mother imprisoned? It seemed…unlike him.
“Well?” Yaxley barked, drawing Harry out of his reverie.
“No. Well, yes, but I take your point. Perhaps not as much as he should have.”
Yaxley’s mouth turned up ever so slightly, eyes hard.
“What do you know?” Harry asked again.