5
It was mid october, most fleeing Death Eaters have been accounted for, and were placed in Azkaban until each were to have a hearing, to weed out the ones under magical influence and those who were fanatical associates of Voldemort. Many claimed innocence, but only few actually were, and in Hermione’s personal opinion there were none. Harry has been quiet on the subject and Ron supported her fully. About two weeks ago Harry got a letter from Narcissa Malfoy, who was currently under house arrest, and mainly because Hagrid was there when she actively betrayed Voldemort. In her letter she asked for the one thing of Harry and that was that he could help her prove Malfoy, her son’s innocence in court. After he read the letter aloud to them they all just exchanged looks in silence.
“Harry, please tell me you aren’t actually considering this, mate?” Ron finally broke the silence.
“I’m not! Or I wasn’t, but she did …that, yunno…” Harry trailed off.
“Absolutely not! Malfoy deserves to do time associating with Voldemort, for plotting to kill you, for attempting to kill Dumbledore-,”
“He didn’t kill Dumbledore though, and he was probably scared, and I don't think Voldemort gave him much of a choice, Hermione!” He cut her off.
Ron rubbed his jaw and sat forward, “But Harry, he took the mark, he actually did it, it must mean he wanted it.”
Harry’s eyebrows pinched, “If he put your whole family in danger, what would you agree to, Ron?”
“Well I wouldn’t be mad enough to take the mark! I’d rather die!” Ron’s voice was rising.
“Well I would, if it meant my loved ones were safe!”Harry stood abruptly. Ron was not too far behind him “ Are you saying I’m a coward?” he stood menacingly facing him, Ron was quite a bit taller than Harry, always have been, and now with his hands balled into fists Hermione was all but shaken out of her stupor and went to stand between her two best friends.
“Oh this is ridiculous, of course you are not a coward Ron, and Harry you know he would have done everything to protect his family. Please calm down, the both of you.” She pushed them apart with her hands on their chests. Under her palms she felt both their hearts beating rapidly, anger coming off in waves.
“Please,” she looked at both of them, “we can discuss this like grown adults now.”
Ron was the first to sit back down pushing his orange hair off his face while gritting the word “Fine” between his teeth.
“Harry?” She looked at her other friend, Harry has been not only face to face with Voldemort on several occasions, he has also technically died only to come back again, so not only was he The Boy Who Lived, he was now The Boy Who Lived To Die To Live Again. He took a hold of her hand still on his chest, gave it a squeeze and calmed his breathing. “Fine.”
The resumed discussion was much more civil and resulted in their decision, hers and Harry's, that they both were going to go visit Malfoy in Azkaban and have a talk with him.
“It is the only way we will be able to see if there is anything even worth saving.” she justified. Harry nodded in agreement while Ron asserted they were both mental. It was decided that forcing Ron to see Malfoy was just going to lead to both of them landing into the darkest and deepest cell in Azkaban, something Harry agreed just won't do.
So a week after the letter from Narcissa, both she and Harry were standing at the entrance to the most secure prison in the UK, Azkaban. It was different now, mandated that it was to be guarded by spellwork and wizards instead of Dementors. It was a dismal sort of place, as a prison would be, but the ongoing gail outside humming into the walls gave this place a very uncomfortable feeling altogether.
“This way please.” said a tall thin wizard in dark robes, Hermione wasn’t sure if the reason why they employed him here was because of his oddly uncanny resemblance to a Dementor, or because of his aura that sucked all happiness from the surrounding air.
They were led down winding corridors lined with cells, which Hermione at first thought were empty but upon more thorough glances around she saw that they indeed had occupants. The men and women and sometimes magical folk, were “subdued” as the ministry referred to it. Collars were seen around the necks of the prisoners with glowing runes, a Scandinavian invention, that not only prevented them from casting any sort of magic but also made them docile. Hermione wasn’t sure how that was better than Dementors, since both seem to be extreme in their own way.
They reached the end of the corridor where at its end was a single cell, it was dark and secluded from the rest, perhaps to really make the occupant feel particularly isolated.
Harry approached the open cell door and walked inside straightening up while adjusting his glasses. Hermione walked behind him and peeked over his shoulder at Draco Malfoy, or whatever was left of him.
There he was sitting on the cold floor with his back against the wall, his hair grew and was hanging before his eyes in oily strands. He looked gaunt, he was already gaunt back in school the last few times they saw him, but now his grey pale skin was stretched over his cheekbones. He looked up at them with his grey eyes in confusion, eyebrows knitting together. “Wot?” was all he said in a grainy voice that wasn’t in use for the past few months that he has been in here, but it sounded like he hasn’t used it in years.
Harry spoke first, “Your mum, she wants us to help you get out of here.”
At this Draco looked down at the floor, his throat bobbed and he gave a weak laugh, “That’s not possible, everyone knows what I’ve done.”
Hermione moved from behind Harry to his side and slowly approached him.
“That’s right, everyone knows what you’ve done, but there are things they don’t know.” she said softly. His gaze rose to meet hers, he looked like a ghost, with the light of the runes around his neck illuminating his hollow cheeks and eyes in an eerie blue light. “Like what, Granger?” he spat, so there was some life in him.
Harry appeared at her side, hands in his pockets, “Like you threw me my wand back. Like you didn’t rat us out when we got captured.”
“I didn’t know it was you lot-”
“Yeah you did, don’t play stupid.” Harry spat back. “The point is, Malfoy, if anyone else asked me to do this, I would have said no, but it was your mother, and regardless of our history, I owe her at least that.”
Malfoy leaned his head on the wall, breathing quite heavily, before slamming it against the wall several times aggressively in frustration, at which the guard outside came in to stop him. Hermione with her hand over her mouth in horror, relaxed only when the guard whispered a spell which seemed to calm Malfoy down. That's when she noticed nail gashes down his left arm where his Dark Mark was still stark against the grey flesh. His eyes caught hers staring at his arm and he pushed his sleeve down over the mark, huffing in disgust. That’s right, he hated her, and obviously didn’t want any pity from a Mudblood. How she hated that word, and how she hated that he would always be a reminder of it.
Harry stood still, hands crossed over his chest as he watched the whole thing until he spoke “ So? Will you be cooperative and let us help you?” She was surprised by how mature and calm Harry sounded, casual even, but there was an undertone of warning.
Malfoy was looking up at him for what felt like hours, until he nodded.
“Excellent, there will be more visits to follow, and I believe she wants us to come with your barrister, so to make sure we are all on the same page.” He said matter of factly, “perhaps clean up?” He turned to leave and was at the door when he called back at her “Let’s go Hermione.”
She hesitated, still looking down at Malfoy looking paler and more tired, before she went after her friend, back to London.