November 13 2000
“I’m proud of you Benjamin, finally living up to your potential instead of chasing that ridiculous muggle studies degree.” My father tells me as he pats my back.
Ever since my first year at Hogwarts my father has been disappointed in me. A Hillman being placed within Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin is unheard of and not well received, Ravenclaw would’ve been a better second house but gods not Hufflepuff. Yet, for seven years I sported gold and black – despite my father’s countless attempts to get me rehoused.
Muggle studies has always appealed to me, I believe there’s more to our society than worthy and unworthy and even good or evil. I don’t see why so many of our parents have groomed us to believe muggles are, in their exact words, scum. They’re a bit daft and often lack the ability to function properly as a society but I think they’re intriguing and I wanted to be a voice of sorts for them. I wanted the next generation of young wizards and witches to see that there’s more to this world than our corner and that just because something is unfamiliar does not mean that it should be feared or written off. This aspiration of mine when brought up to him earned an even angrier reaction than my sorting hat results. For weeks I was ridiculed but for once in my life I stood my ground, until now that is.
The war not only put a strain on those directly involved but the entire wizarding community, including my studies. Despite my father’s wishes, I began working towards my muggle studies major but when Voldemort and the death eaters began, more or less, slaughtering everyone in sight, schooling was paused. Everyone was instructed to stay within their homes and only leave when necessary. It was a confusing time, my father being a proud Slytherin and pure-blood household and yet he stood proudly in opposition of Voldemort and his climb to power. He was one of the first to demand gathering the remaining death eaters and was a strong advocate for giving every single one of them the dementors kiss. The day Voldemort’s right hand man, Draco Malfoy, was sentenced to practically life in Azkaban my father returned home in a raging fit.
“Absolute bullshit!” He shouted. “So what if he’s young and did a handful of things to help our side? That doesn’t excuse the hundreds he killed!” He continued to pace the living room for the next two hours as he went on and on about the monster the kid is. He even went as far as to accuse Minister Shacklebolt of playing favorites and that’s why he got off easy.
Father never was a fan of the Malfoy’s. He’d always complain about Lucius waltzing into the ministry and throwing money around to persuade his colleagues into doing what he wanted. He once said the Malfoy’s were the perfect example as to everything that was wrong with the wizarding community, specifically amongst the pure-bloods and how they are the reason we have such a bad reputation. I could think of several other reasons that have nothing to do with the family but seeing as I don’t have a death wish, I never voiced them.
Becoming a guard at Azkaban was less of a decision I made on my own and more of something forced upon me which was backed by “facts” from my father and his friends. They said I’d be helping rebuild our society and would ensure the safety of the next generation by doing so. I didn’t see how they correlated and I still don’t but I’ve learned it’s easier to nod my head and agree. Like I said, I don’t have a death wish.
November 14 2000
It’s my first day being a prison guard at Azkaban and I have to say, it’s even worse than I had imagined it to be. I don’t know if it’s due to the hundreds of dementors that stalk the grounds or what but the second I got here it felt like all of the joy and life was sucked right out of me. It’s cold, eerily quiet aside from the aggressive waves crashing and every wall and inch of the floor is damp. It reminds me of when a toilet broke in the prefect's bathroom back at Hogwarts during sixth year and flooded the entire area.
Upon arrival I’m escorted to the front room where I’m greeted by one of the shift leads. My father’s friends warned me about him, they said if I were to come into contact I should immediately make my sexuality known so that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
“Benjamin Hillman, it’s nice to meet you.” The rather stubby man says. “I’m Eren Winston, I’ll be the one you report to during your day shifts.” He extends his hand out for me to shake and I don’t know what comes over me but I blurt out “I’m straight!” His hand drops and brow quirks and then – his eyes narrow.
“I’m not gay.” He snarls.
Gods I’m so stupid.
“I-er-I didn’t mean to–” I stammer, sweat already beginning to fall from my forehead as I try to find a way to save my own arse right now. Think Ben, think. “What I meant to say was I personally like women– not that I have anything against gay people, I have a best friend who is gay and he’s a fantastic person.” Based on the way his jaw tightens I’m going to go ahead and say I did the exact opposite of what I intended.
This is not off to a good start.
“Hillman.” He says but not in a he’s calling me forward type of way but more of a he’s trying to remember where he’s heard the name. I can literally see the moment he links my last name with the lost memory and I have to admit, it’s not a look I’m a fan of. “Your father works at the ministry and recently joined the Wizengamot council, did he not?”
“Y-yes sir, that’s correct.”
“A rather persistent and whiny man your father is.”
You’re telling me.
“You know what Hillman, I have the perfect assignment for you.” He smirks as he hands me a lamp. “You’re going to need this, it’s a tad dark down there.”
Down there? Where the hell is down there?
-*-
“Watch your head.” Winston warns as we descend the staircase. I know I said it felt like all of the joy was sucked out of me when I first arrived and it did but that was nothing compared to the haunting and lonely feeling that only heightens with each step down. I didn’t even know Azakaban had a lower level and I wish it had stayed that way. Once we reach the bottom floor Winston comes to a halt in the corridor.
“Welcome to your new office, Hillman.” He grins. “We have one prisoner down here, one I believe you’re quite familiar with.” I really don’t like the look on his face and tone of voice right now. He doesn’t say anything else and instead continues making his way down the narrow corridor. I think he motioned for me to follow but if I’m being honest, I can’t see shit down here.
At the very end is a metal door and the sound it makes when opening is so abrasive it reminds me of nails dragging along a chalkboard and will surely drive me mad after a few days of hearing it. My eyes are just beginning to adjust to the darkness when Winston casts a lumos, the entire room and its occupant suddenly becoming visible.
“Hillman, meet prisoner 403 or as you may know him, Draco Malfoy.”
The lantern in my hand nearly slips from my grasp as I stare back at the individual responsible for my father’s endless rants. The last I saw of him was the photo in the Daily Prophet when Rita covered his trial, everyone was talking about it for weeks.
The Death Eater And His Golden Girl:
Draco Malfoy Confesses Love For Hermione Granger.
It Appears Even The Wicked Aren’t Immune To Cupid’s Bow.
“Enjoy your babysitting duties.” Winston informs me that meals will be delivered to me and that I’m not to leave my post until the end of my shift… wonderful, eight hours in a cold, damp and nearly pitch black room with a renowned death eater. This should go well.
He looks different than the clipping of him in the Daily Prophet but maybe that’s just due to the lack of light within the room. His shoulders are more broad, his hair is longer and messy – a very uncommon thing for purebloods. Despite his muscular build, his face is rather gaunt but despite the sharp features and scar that runs across his left eye there’s a softness to him. He looks defeated, like he’s been put through hell and back and I guess he has been. I can’t imagine going through even a sliver of what he has, especially at such a young age. My father always scolded me for sympathizing with those who he deemed unworthy of such, Draco Malfoy being one of them. But I can’t help it, he was just a kid. I know firsthand what it’s like to have your life controlled by familial expectations, I’m just lucky mine never involved becoming a teenage assassin. I’ve seen the articles and I’m fully aware of the countless people he’s killed but standing here now with him only a few feet away, I can’t help but humanize him.
“Do you come with a voice or is your only setting gawking?” His voice echoes throughout the room.
“S-sorry.” I stutter as I blink a few times to pull myself from my thoughts. “I’m Benjamin Hillman but you can call me Ben.” Sticking my arm between the bars, I hold my hand out for him in an attempt to at least appear that I’m not scared. His eyes flick down to my shaking, and surely clammy, hand and then back up to me, his brow arched.
“Don’t mistake idiocy for bravery, Hillman.” He tells me as he steps back and sits down on the small bench in the corner of his cell. Taking a better look, I notice that he doesn’t have a mattress like everyone else. Does he sleep on that bench? I know prisoners aren’t meant to feel like they’re on holiday but not providing a bed, blanket or even a bloody pillow is inhumane. Hell, the man doesn’t even have any shoes or socks.
“Where are your shoes?” I ask.
His eyes snap up to meet mine and head cocks before saying “I’m guessing with my other belongings that were taken upon arrival.”
“They confiscated your shoes?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Fuck if I know. Perhaps they viewed them as a possible weapon, which is valid, though I could turn anything into one if needed.”
“Like that toothbrush resting on your sink?” I ask out of curiosity as I point over at the object.
“Easily.” He smirks.
“Are you going to?”
“Am I going to, what?”
“Make it into a weapon.”
“Are you going to give me a reason to do so?”
I shake my head. “I don’t intend to.”
“Then no.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Silence.
It’s so quiet down here, even more quiet than upstairs. You know how some rooms can be so quiet that it’s deafening? Yeah. That’s precisely what it’s like in here. I wonder how long he’s been down here for and why he is. I get that he’s a dangerous prisoner but so are a lot of them. What could’ve possibly earned him such an extreme form of isolation? It’s almost like they’re trying to drive him mad.
“That’s exactly what they’re trying to do.” He says.
Wh-how did he?
“Your thoughts are extremely loud, would you mind trying to shut them off? It’s giving me a maddenning headache.”
Not wanting to say the wrong thing for the second time today, I do as requested and shut up both verbally and consciously.. at least I try my best to.
November 15 2000
“This looks awful.” My face twisting in disgust as I slide the tray underneath the bars.
“It tastes even worse than it looks.” He tells me as he retrieves it.
So far I’ve taken note of several things regarding prisoner’s conditions here that I’m sure would not pass the Ministry’s inspection. The first is the isolation without proper cause, I looked over his file last night when I was logging my own notes from the day. Aside from his… dispute with the other guards when he first arrived it seems he hasn’t instigated any fights. In fact, it seems he’s been the one on the receiving end of several injuries. Within his first month here the prison healer visited him fifteen times, the cause of wounds was written off to be from other prisoners but I know that’s a lie.
Next we have his cell, there aren’t specific requirements on the amount of space they must have but there are for bedding. When I arrived this morning he was sleeping on the floor. THE FLOOR! Then we have the lack of access to hygienic products. While the rest of the prisoners are offered one shower a day, though they’re quite short and miserably cold, Draco is only offered the same opportunity once every three days. I’m not saying he’s vain but I can only imagine how much that must drive his pureblood self insane. The food is the same for all but it feels wrong to even refer to it as such. It greatly resembles what my friend Troy’s cat threw up once in the common room.
“How long have they had you down here?” I ask which causes him to give me the most perplexed look, as if anyone speaking to him is some unheard of thing. Now that I think about it, it probably is. I don’t think before I came anyone was down here with him and if he did have any contact with another individual it was just to deliver his meals.
“I don’t know.” He admits, I can see the frustration in his eyes and by the way his jaw tenses. The lamp illuminates the room enough to make the markings on his cell wall visible. I figured they were his way of attempting to keep track of the days but I tried to not think about it for too long. The more I notice the more depressing it all is.
“It’s November 15 2000.” I inform him. He slowly nods his head and takes a bite of his “food”. I can tell he’s learned to just get it down as quickly as possible, he’s not eating for pleasure it’s solely for survival.
“I was moved sometime around my birthday.”
“Oh, okay so around five months then.”
“My eighteenth birthday.” He elaborates.
“Eighteenth?!” My eyes widening. “But that was, what, two years ago?” He nods. Salazar. How is this guy still in possession of his sanity? People go mad all the time here and that’s with them still getting human contact on the daily but this guy – no – kid has been in solitary confinement for two years now.
November 16 2000
I’ve decided that since I can’t be the voice for the muggles like I had originally planned I’ll be the voice for those discriminated against within the wizarding community. I’ll admit, a murderous and seemingly self righteous pureblood death eater may not be the best person to kickstart this project off with but you take what you can get, right?
For my first act I’ve managed to use a shrinking charm to sneak Draco a pillow. Per usual, he was skeptical of the gesture which only further confirms my theory that he has been mistreated by the other guards.
“I also got you these.” I say as I pull out a pair of wool socks. “I wanted to bring you some shoes but I figured you’d have a better chance at not getting the socks confiscated should any of the other guards notice.” Slipping both items through the bars he’s much quicker this time to retrieve the items. There’s a wave of relief that washes over his face and is apparent in the way his shoulder’s relax once he puts the socks on.
“Why are you doing this?” He asks as he inspects the pillow and makes no effort to hide his dissatisfaction with the firmness of it. You can take the man out of the pompous society but you can’t take the pompous out of him, not even in prison apparently.
“You deserve better.” I simply state.
“You realize I’ve murdered innocent people, right?” His brow lifting.
“Yes and I’m also aware that you helped The Order and were willing to sacrifice your life to help take down Voldemort. Despite your efforts to appear otherwise, I believe at the end of the day you’re a good man.”
His eye twitches at my words and it looks like he’s just been stabbed. What did I say? I rehearsed for two hours in the mirror this morning just to make sure I didn’t say anything wrong. Aw man, now he’s standing and approaching the bars. Well, life was good while it lasted. Merlin, how does he get that look in his eyes? It’s both murderous and calm at the same time. It’s like I can see all the ways he’s imagining killing me but there’s also no emotion at all. I’m really glad I skipped that second cup of tea this morning because if I hadn’t I believe I’d be wearing it right now.
He’s never stood this close to me before, he’s always remained at least an arms length away but now he’s so close I can see the strain in his jaw and the vein in his neck protruding as a result. I can see the texture of his skin and the scar that runs down his left eye. Strangely, I feel less afraid now. Being able to see him, I mean really see him, has only made it that much easier to empathize with the bloke. Behind that cold stare is pain and I mean genuine, soul crushing pain. This guy is only twenty years old and has seen things that would keep others up at night. He and I are alike in a way, both of our fathers planning our lives and burdening us with the responsibility of upholding the family name. I guess I just got lucky that mine didn’t force me to become a teenage assassin.
“What are you getting out of this? I’m not looking to be anyone’s charity case.” He scoffs as he walks to the back of his cell and takes a seat on the bench.
“Full honesty?”
“Would be preferred.”
“I’m using you.” I admit, this piqued his interest.
“Do go on.” He prompts as he lifts his right leg and rests his ankle on his knee.
“I want to make a difference. Originally I wanted to help assist in the integration of our people and the muggles.” His lips part as he goes to say something but I cut him off. “Let’s keep the crude remarks until the end of my monologue. During my rehearsal I didn’t plan for comments until the end so kindly, shut the fuck up.” He raises both of his hands in surrender and motions for me to continue. “Like you, my father had a vision for my future and surprisingly it didn’t involve being a spokesperson for muggles which is why I’m standing in this depressing room with you right now. Since I can’t make a difference that way I had to get creative. You aren’t a charity case but I do feel for you and you can make that annoyed face and sneer at me all you want but it won’t change anything. You aren’t special though, you’re one of many who were given a shit hand of cards and are now suffering the consequences for actions that were forced onto you. Yes, I am doing what I can to help you like bringing you a pillow and a pair of socks but at the end of the day I will be benefiting from this far more than you. I plan to gather data during my time with you and compose a proposal to bring before the Minister. I’m going to be the change I always wished to see in how our society operates and you’re going to help me do so. Okay, now you may speak.”
He points to himself and says “Oh, may I?” Mockery lacing his tone.
“I could take back my gifts if you want to keep being a dick.”
“You’d have to rip these atrocious socks from my dead body, Hillman.”
“Then it seems we’ve reached an agreement.”
“An agreement on what, exactly?”
“I’ll sneak you whatever you want, within reason, and in return you drop the sarcasm and provide me with the information I need for my proposal.”
“I’m afraid the sarcasm is a built-in feature but the latter can possibly be arranged.” He tells me.
“Deal.” I say, extending my hand out to him.
“I’m not shaking that.”
“Why not?”
“They’re extremely dry, have you ever heard of moisturizing?”
“Says the man who hasn’t showered in two days.”
“That’s not by choice, I’m locked in a cell in case you’ve forgotten.” He retorts. “What’s your excuse?”
What a charming guy, I don’t see why people have such a strong distaste for him.
December 3 2000
“How many more bloody questions could you possibly have?” Draco groans as he rolls his eyes and rests his head against the wall. “If my calculations are correct you’ve asked a minimum of ten for the past.. sixteen? Seventeen days?”
“Just eat your damn food.” I scold as I finish writing my notes.
“I’d really rather not.” He says as he pushes the tray away.
“What, you don’t like it? I thought you’d be happy I managed to upgrade your meals.”
“Yes, I so greatly appreciate my exchange of mystery slop for an even more mysterious object that jiggles when poked.” He mocks. “Honestly, I think I’d be better off catching one of the several rats that run through here and eating that.”
“Then why don’t you?” I challenge.
“I don't have anything to season it with, I’m not an animal Hillman.”
Ignoring his snide remark, I ask my last question of the day. “What’s one thing you wished you had access to while being here?”
“A book.” He didn’t even need a second to think the question over, just spit it right out and I have to say I’m rather surprised by his answer.
“A book?”
“That is what I said, is it not? Are you losing your hearing or something? Do you need me to speak louder? A. BOOK. B-O-O-K! ” He shouts, making sure to over-enunciate just to annoy me.
“Yeah I fucking heard you the first time but why a book? I figured you’d say something like a fresh change of clothes or oh I don’t know, a bed maybe?”
“I have a bed.” He states, pointing over to the thin pillow I had given him a few weeks ago.
“That’s not a bed, that’s a sad excuse for a pillow.”
“At least you finally admit it.” He smirks. “But yes, Hillman, a book. I do know how to read, believe it or not and I quite enjoy doing so.”
Note to self : try to find some sort of book for the bloke. I wonder if Azkaban has a library?
“It doesn’t.” Draco says.
“Huh?”
“There isn’t a library here.”
“How the hell do you constantly know what I’m thinking?” I ask. “Are you some sort of psychic?”
“Yes Hillman, I’m a fucking psychic. Would you like me to show you my crystal ball?” He deadpans.
“Well if you’re not a psychic then tell me how you keep answering questions I’m almost positive I’m not verbalizing.”
“Like I said the first time we met, your thoughts are extremely loud.”
“My thoughts are loud…?” I trail off and then suddenly, realization strikes. “You’re a legilimens!”
“Bravo, twenty points to..?”
“I was in Hufflepuff.”
“Of course you were.” He chuckles. “Very well, twenty points to Hufflepuff I guess.”
“But wait– I thought you would be able to tell when someone was using legilimency on you?”
“Not if you stay just at the surface.” He goes on to explain the various levels of legilimency. The first is what he’s been apparently using on me all this time. It doesn’t alert the unsuspecting individual and grants you access to their current stream of thoughts. Next requires some digging and will allow you entrance to their subconscious, thoughts they may not even be aware they’re having. The list goes on and the further one digs, the deeper of memories, thoughts and fears you uncover. It’s all fascinating to hear but I’m not retaining much of it, I’m still focused on the fact that at twenty years old this guy has managed to master such a difficult skill. There’s only a handful of witches and wizards known to man to have done so.
Another note to self : think less.
December 25 2000
“What’s this?” Draco asks as he stares down at the box.
“It’s a present, ever heard of one?” I mock, proud of myself for using sarcasm on him for once.
“I realize it’s a present Hillman.” His eyelids lowering halfway out of annoyance. “I meant what is this?” He asks, holding up the piece of gold and black fabric between the tip of his fingers. He’s looking at it like it’s about to come alive and bite him for fucks sake.
“It’s a piece of an old scarf of mine.” I tell him. “I figured you could use it as a bookmark.”
“Bookmark?” He questions, a curious brow raising as he places it back into the box. I nod my head and reveal the books that I’ve been hiding behind my back. He instantly rises to his feet and rushes forward to grab them.
“They aren’t anything spectacular and are all by muggle authors but it’s something.”
“The encyclopedia of sexually transmitted diseases?” He questions as he holds the teal book up.
“I told you, nothing spectacular.” I shrug. “Just be happy I managed to bring you one with an actual plot. It’s a female muggle author and about love but it’s the only fiction book my father wouldn’t notice being gone. It’s a rather good read, I’ll give Jane Austen that. Have you ever heard of her?” I mentally slap myself the second the question falls from my lips. How stupid am I? Of course he hasn’t heard of–
“Yes.”
Oh. What the fuck?
“Y-you have?”
“Yes.” He repeats, though this time the word sounds strained – almost like it pains him to say it. “My Gr– someone I knew was a rather big fan of hers. Always carried around this exact book actually.”
For the first time I witness his mouth curve up into a smile and not a smug one, I’m talking an actual genuine smile. The satisfaction of being able to make the infamously vile Draco Malfoy smile is short lived as his demeanor quickly shifts, his regular cold exterior returning.
He clears his throat before saying “Thanks for the books Hillman, I actually got you something too.”
“Me? You didn’t need t–” I’m cut off by the sound of ripping as he tears apart the makeshift bookmark I gifted him. Once he’s managed to separate the black and gold stripes he hands me the gold sliver. “Gee, thanks. I love it.” I sarcastically say.
“You’re most welcome.” He grins as he places the thin strip of black fabric inside one of the books. “There, much better.”
February 7 2001
A day off. What a strange concept. And what’s even stranger is I think I miss conversing with Draco? This is not what I had planned. I mean, yeah, I wanted to get to know the bloke but I didn’t expect to actually care for the guy but I guess I can blame the Hufflepuff in me for that one. The more we began to talk and I was given more insight into his life and directly from the source instead of through biased and warped perceptions of others, the more I started to see him as just a regular guy. A regular guy that can kill someone with a damn feather but I tried to push that fact out of my head. The task was simple: empathize enough to see past the rumors that surrounded him, regardless of their validity, and gather enough information to present to the ministry to get approval on my proposal. Instead I’ve found myself defending him whenever he’s brought up in a negative way. Are we friends? I’d say we’re friends. I don’t know if he feels the same though. Most likely not but then again, I highly doubt he’d admit if he did. This would be an interesting discussion to have with him when I return to work tomorrow.
“I see they’ve finally allowed you to join the real world for a day.” The familiar voice stops me in my tracks and as I turn around I see none other than my friend Troy staring back at me.
Walking up to him, I pull him into your standard guy hug. A brief squeeze of the arms around one another topped off with a pat on the back.
“I thought you were still in Germany?” I ask as we continue our way down the sidewalk.
“I’m just here for the day to collect a few things, I head back early in the morning tomorrow.” He informs me.
We continue catching up and eventually find ourselves sitting inside a cafe. Troy has been working on some sort of top secret research project that even I’m not authorized to have access to, complete bollocks if you ask me. I’d say twelve years of friendship overrides any and all security measures but maybe that’s just me.
“What about you mate?” He asks. “I heard you’ve been slaving away as a guard at Azkaban?”
The waitress brings us our drinks and I thank her before turning my attention back to him. “That’s correct, my father ended up getting his way but I guess we all saw that one coming.” I say.
“That we did.” He nods before taking a sip of his coffee. “Say, you haven’t had a chance to see the Malfoy bastard have you? I heard he’s a real lunatic.” He chuckles, causing me to choke on my tea mid sip.
“He’s not a lunatic.” I reply far too defensively.
“What’s your problem? I thought you hated that family?”
“That was my father, I never personally had any ill feelings towards them.” I correct. “Besides, he’s not that much different than you and I. He’s just a kid who had shit parents and ended up in an even shittier position. Just because you don’t understand him doesn’t mean he’s a lunatic.”
Shit. I’ve just word vomited and to the literal worst person. Troy was sorted into Slytherin, or as my father would say – the correct house. He and I remained close throughout our time at Hogwarts despite having different houses, he’d often sneak into the Hufflepuff common room at night and would always have a bottle of firewhiskey or some butterbeer. Much like my father, his family has never been a fan of the Malfoy family and unlike me, Troy is incapable of having an original thought. I blame his laziness, it was just easier for him to agree than take the time to research and make a decision for himself.
“You aren’t really trying to sympathize with the prick, are you?”
I’m silent, chugging my tea and looking at everything within the room except for him.
“Ben.” He sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me this isn’t a repeat of your muggle endeavor.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean by that.” I say, placing my now empty cup on the table.
“You know exactly what I mean. Tell me you aren’t trying to advocate for the scumbag.”
“I–er–”
“Gods Ben! Have you gone mad?!”
“Not anymore than I already was!”
“You can’t be serious.” He groans. “Going around and trying to tell people that a death eater – a mass murderer – is worthy of a second chance is not going to end well for you.”
“I won’t be going around and saying that.” I argue.
“You won’t?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ll be going straight to the minister himself.”
“Ben!”
“Troy!”
“You’ve completely lost your head!”
“Uh last time I checked it was still very much attached to my neck thank you very much.”
He sits back in his chair as he lets out an exasperated sigh, an astonished expression on his face as he stares at me. “What does your father have to say about this?” He questions.
I shrug.
“You haven’t told him, have you?”
“I don’t think I’d be sitting here with you right now if I had.” I admit, which isn’t that big of an exaggeration. He nearly disowned me when I sat him down and told him I was going to major in muggle studies. If I were to tell him about my current project I think it’s safe to say he’d rip my head off. Preferring to keep my body in one piece, I’ve opted out of telling him until I literally have no other choice.
Troy sits up and leans forward, his forearms resting on the table as he clasps his hands. “There’s going to be a lot of people who won’t agree with you.” He tells me.
“I’m fully aware.”
“People with a lot of power.” He continues. “Ones who would do whatever it takes to shut you down, especially if you manage to receive approval and funding.”
“I know, I’ve thought this over countless times.”
“Have you though? Have you truly thought about the repercussions? I’m talking about death threats Ben and maybe even attempts to follow through with said threats.”
“You haven’t heard his story Troy.” I say. “You didn’t see the conditions they had him living in when I first arrived or read the countless reports of beatings he’s endured at the hands of the other guards. They offered him to the dementors one time Troy, dementors! And then just to fuck him up even more they pulled him away just as he was about to die and then threw him into solitary confinement. Believe me, I know that he isn’t an outstanding citizen by any means but he’s still a human and doesn’t deserve to be treated any less than.”
He drops his head and rubs the back of his neck as he processes what I’ve just said. In the past I’ve always kept my opinions to myself, especially controversial ones and this has to be by far the most controversial of them all but I’m tired of just sitting back and letting people tell me how I should feel and think. I’m tired of the judgement and hate that seems to plague our world. I want to see a change and I could wait for someone else to take the lead or I could be the one to lead it. A few years ago I would’ve gone with the first option but not anymore. If not me, then who? If I lose family or friends over it then so be it, I’m done letting others influence my own beliefs in order to keep the peace.
Fuck peace.
February 8 2001
“Are we friends?” I ask as I storm into the room. Draco peels his eyes from the book in his hands and looks up at me.
“What was that?”
“Don’t play stupid. Are we friends? Because I think we’re friends but I didn’t know if you did or not. I don’t know why I care so much to know the answer but I thought about it all day and night and so I just need to know. Are we friends, yes or no?”
Snapping the book shut, he places it on the bench beside him and crosses his arms as he leans back against the wall.
“Would you like for us to be friends?” He asks.
“Considering I just went off on my oldest friend for speaking poorly about you, yes. Yes I would.”
“Very well, you may refer to me as a friend then.”
“Wait, really?”
“Do you not want that?”
“No–I do, it's just– I didn’t think it would be that easy.” I admit. “I thought you’d say some rude remark, maybe insult my appearance or intelligence a few times and say you’d never be friends with someone like me.”
“It’s not like I have many options when it comes to the sort considering my circumstance.” He says as he gestures to the space around him. “Besides, I never said I’d call you my friend, I just simply said that you may refer to me as one.”
“That literally makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense to me.” He shrugs as he grabs his book and opens it back up. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate some of that silence you rarely offer me. I just got to the good part.”
Content with the small victory, I walk over to his cell and pull up a chair. Tilting my head, I read the title of the book within his grasp. “How in Merlin's name have you reached a good part of that book?” I question as I point to the encyclopedia of sexually transmitted diseases.
“You have a really hard time grasping the concept of silence, don’t you?” He lets out an irritated sigh as he lifts his head and turns to look at me. “I’ve just reached the chapter about muggle aids, it’s a fascinating topic. I know you’re all “protect the muggles!” and shit but you have to admit, they’re a disgusting species. If they just used their little rubber things and avoided stabbing each other with the same needles, whatever those are, then perhaps this problem would be resolved.”
“I don’t think it’s as simple as you make it out to be.”
“Whatever.” He says as he rolls his eyes and waves his hand. “You know, Potter grew up in a muggle household. I bet he has these muggle aids, probably a handful of the other things I’ve read about too. If you ever have the displeasure of meeting him I highly suggest keeping your distance.”
I allow him a few more minutes of silent reading time before speaking up again. “Hey, Draco.”
“What Hillman?” He groans, not breaking his eyes away from the page.
“Did we just become best friends? Because I think we just became best friends.”
“I’m not answering that.”
“Yeah, we’re best friends.” I smile.
“Please shut the fuck up.”
March 17 2001
“You’re supposed to put down one of the same color or number.” I instruct. “Like this.” Holding up a red card and placing it down on top of the other red card.
“This is fucking stupid.” Draco scoffs. “Why can’t I just put whatever card down that I want to?”
“Because that defeats the whole purpose.”
“And the purpose is what?”
“To only have one card left in your hand, shout UNO and then get rid of that card but only if-”
Quickly he throws all of his cards down except for one onto the stack in the middle of us and shouts “ONO!”
“It’s Uno and no, that’s not how it works.”
“I hate this game.” He groans. “Next time bring something that isn’t so… muggle. If you’re keen on the cards may I suggest exploding snap?”
“I don’t think I could get away with sneaking that one in. The entire deck started exploding in my pocket once during fifth year.” I tell him. “Besides, last I checked you use a wand during that game and I can’t really get you one of those.”
“I could use a stick.” He suggests.
“A stick?”
“Yes. A stick. Fucks sake Hillman, are you sure you aren’t going deaf? I’m getting really tired of having to repeat myself with you.”
“Yes, I’m positive and fine, I’ll look into bringing it sometime.”
“Wonderful. I’ll be here counting the cracks in the ceiling.”
April 20 2001
This is the third time one of the stupid cards has exploded in my face, I think I lost an entire eyebrow and all of my eyelashes on my left eye by now.
“Maybe if you stopped thinking about that blonde witch and paid more attention to the game you wouldn’t keep burning off hairs.” Draco says as he flips over two cards and immediately hits them with the twig I brought him. “That’s another point for me.” He proudly states. “Honestly Hillman, you’re quite shit at the game.”
“I thought you said you stopped using legilimency on me months ago.” I ask.
“I did but then you had that stupid dazed look in your eye and kept having cards blow up in your face so I figured a little peek inside that empty head of yours wouldn’t hurt.”
“That’s rude.”
“And so is not paying attention, I thought we were spending some real quality time together. Come to find out you have some other blonde on your mind? What does she give you that I don’t Benny?” He says with mock hurt.
“Oh piss off.”
May 17 2001
“Hi, excuse me. It’s Ben, right?” Her soft and angelic voice asks as she smiles up at me. So pretty.
“Me Ben yes.”
“I’m sorry, what?” She giggles.
Oh dammit.
Shaking my head and blinking a few times, I reattempt the whole speaking thing – praying that I actually make sense this time.
“I meant, yes, I’m Ben.” Nice, good job Ben, really killed it.
“Ah, I see. I’m Ma–”
“Maria, I know.”
Wait. Shit. No. No, I don't know. Why would I know that? It’s not like I’ve been head over heels for her ever since I first spotted her one morning before heading to work and I most definitely didn’t end up changing my entire morning routine so that I could be here at the same time as her every day since. That would be ridiculous. Ridiculous and creepy.
“Well it’s nice to meet you Ben.” Oh no, she’s smiling at me again. Whenever she does that my mind goes completely blank and turns into absolute mush. “I believe I grabbed your cup by accident. Black tea with one sugar, right?”
“Black sugar and one tea, yes.”
She’s giggling again. Oh no, did I say something stupid again? Gods, why am I so pathetic? I finally get to speak to her and I sound like an absolute moron. Maybe she likes morons? She hands me my cup and when her fingers brush against mine I think I feel my heart stop. Is this heaven? I think this is heaven.
“Have a good day, Ben.” And she’s smiling again. I think I might die. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there or be square.” I reply while I form my hand into a finger gun. What the fuck was that?
–*–
“She was hitting on you.” Draco says as he takes another bite of his food. I finally managed to get him something that doesn’t look like it was scraped off the bottom of the trash bin.
“What?! No she wasn’t.” My cheeks instantly flushing.
“She most definitely was.”
“No, she most definitely was not.”
Dropping his fork he looks up at me and says “So you’re telling me she ‘accidentally’ grabbed your cup and ‘just happened’ to know that it was yours because she ‘by chance’ knew your order?”
“I don’t appreciate your use of air quotes.”
“And I don’t appreciate you being a daft git.” He argues. “She was hitting on you, accept it.”
“Just shut up and eat your food.” I scoff as I cross my arms and sit back in my chair.
“Happily.”
Was she hitting on me? No. That would be a silly thought to entertain. What could a stunning woman like her want with someone like me? She could have any man she wanted and I highly doubt that man is me. It’s settled, Draco is a fucking idiot.
“She wasn’t hitting on me.” I whisper.
“Yes she was you fuckwit.”
May 20 2001
She did it again. She grabbed my drink instead of hers and came up to me just like she has the last few days. She keeps having small talk and I hate small talk because I never know what to say. Yesterday I nervously rambled for five minutes about the history of the aglet and she listened! I mean really listened! She even followed up by asking questions and of course I answered them but I don’t even know if what I was telling her was factual, all I know is I couldn’t shut up about the damn aglet.
Today I had fully prepared myself with loads of different topics such as recent articles in the paper, the weather and even sporting events but what I hadn’t prepared for was what she actually said to me.
“Are you free tomorrow night?”
“Wha-free? Tomorrow?” My face is bright red, I can feel it.
“Yes, tomorrow.”
“Er–I– um–” Think Ben. THINK. “I have to cut my cat’s nails tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Her smile instantly drops from her face and I realize that I am the dumbest man alive. I’m about to tell her that I’d be free the next night though but she’s already saying goodbye and leaving the café.
I am not telling Draco about this.
May 23 2001
She’s here again and she’s wearing her hair down today. I love it when she does that. Everything about her is so exquisite and by some miracle I haven’t managed to completely screw up any chance I had with her because she’s approaching me again and I think I’m sweating. No, I’m definitely sweating. Just as she’s about to close in on me I mutter a drying spell and just pray that there isn’t any evidence of my nervousness staining the pits of my shirt.
“Hi Ben.” She smiles.
Ugh. She really needs to stop doing that.
“Hi Maria.” I smile back. Okay, we’re off to a good start.
“How was clipping your cat’s nails?”
“I don’t have a? Oh! Right, yes, my cat and her nails and the clipping. Yeah, it was er– fantastic!” Reel it back in Ben, too much, way too much.
“You’re funny.” She giggles. Okay, maybe don’t reel it in? “You don’t have another cat whose nails need to be trimmed anytime soon, do you?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Cool.” She nods as she rocks back into her heels.
Am I supposed to say something right now? I don’t think so. Maybe it would just be best if I show myself out before I manage to ruin the one time I’ve managed to be normal around her. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.
“Alright, well I'll see you tomorrow!” I say before rushing out.
–*–
“You’re an idiot.” Draco chuckles as he shakes his head and stabs into his food.
“No I’m not!”
“Yeah, you are.”
“I don’t see how me managing to not say something stupid for once translates into me being an idiot.”
“It’s not about what you said, it’s about what you didn’t say.”
“I–I don’t know what you’re on about.”
“Honestly Hillman, stop being such a spineless wimp and tell the lady that you want to shag her.” He scoffs.
“It’s not that simple.”
And it’s really not. I mean it is but also not. The one thing I’ve left out about Maria when talking to him about her is the fact that she’s a muggle. It’s not that I care that she is but I know many people who would, including my father. He may not share the same extreme prejudice as Draco’s family but he’s still a typical pureblood who wants to keep the bloodline just that. And for his only son to want to be with a muggle? Now that’s a sure way to die.
“It is. You’re just making excuses.” Draco says. “From what you’ve told me the lady clearly likes you, for whatever reason, and has been practically begging you to ask her out. All I’m saying is, your face doesn’t look like it’s been hit with a bludger.”
“Gee thanks, I really appreciate that.”
He should pursue a career in pep talking, he has a real gift in the sort.
“What I meant was you’re not ugly so I don’t see why you act like this girl would be repulsed by the idea of being with you. Unless you have some deformity that I’m unaware of? Do you have an extra toe or something?”
It’s not that I think she’d be repulsed by the idea of being with me, though I still fail to see why she would want to be in the first place. But what she might be repulsed by is my father believing she ranks lower than the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. I don’t know much about girls but I can say I don’t think that’d be received well.
I’m just about to tell him everything when suddenly the grating sound of the door being pushed open catches both of our attention.
“I hate to break up this little love fest of yours.” Quellen, the head guard, says as he steps inside. “I just received word that pretty boy here is to be released today.”
“What?” Both Draco and I ask simultaneously.
“You're to be released into the custody of the auror department. Everything will be explained by your handler." He directs at Draco, annoyance lacing his words. "Hillman, prepare the prisoner. He's to be at the ministry in an hour, you'll be escorting him there.” Once he steps out and I hear the sound of the door clicking shut I turn back to face Draco.
“Holy shit, you’re getting out.” I exclaim. “I can’t believe it. I mean I can, I heard some talks but I didn’t know if any held any truth. Maybe the Minister took another look at your case? Or maybe it was the guy who spoke at your trial, Remus Lupin, I know he was giving the ministry one hell of a time after your sentencing. Maybe it was even Harry Potter himself!” My ranting comes to a halt once I notice that he’s staring blankly over at the door.
“Draco? Are you okay?” I ask.
He blinks once, slowly, and then one more time before turning to look at me again.
“I’m really getting out?” He asks in disbelief.
“Yeah mate, you really are.”