Chapter 1
One could say Draco Malfoy was an unlucky person. His misfortune started the day he was born, his mother immediately handing him over to their House Elf and not looking at him for the next week, being focused on regaining her pre-maternal body.
Thus, started his childhood, being raised by a cold narcissist as a mother and an authoritative dark wizard with a liking for blood supremacy as father. By the age of 18, haven grown up without love or happiness, he had been the youngest person to be recruited as a Death Eater only to become the youngest person to be sentenced to Azkaban.
Yes, one could say Draco Malfoy’s has been extremely unfortunate.
Due to these circumstances, Draco currently sat in his cell in Azkaban, like he had for the last 4 years.
The young man hadn’t moved for some hours, staring with empty eyes through a hole in the wall into the dark abyss of the sea surrounding the building. He barely felt his hunger anymore, always a constant companion of his.
It was stormy as always, he was frozen down to his bones with only an old brown felt blanket covering his back, sitting shivering in the dark.
Since the first few weeks the guards had mostly stopped beating him, which he was glad for. Their hate on Death Eaters apparently stilled and physical violence was mostly used when punish him from not walking quicker. Or taking too long somewhere. Or when one of them had had a fight with his wife.
The only worry Draco had, were the other inmates, seemingly everyone hating him, for being a Death Eater or for turning his back on the Death Eaters. But after a few fights ultimately resulting in him almost bleeding out on the bathroom floor, the guards had probably decided he was causing too much work for them so they left him mostly shut inside his cell, alone.
Actually, he almost had it quite good now, considering he had gotten used to the lack of food and the cold. If not for the Dementors.
Dementors were allowed to feed on the Death Eaters, the Ministry putting this rule into place to cheaply nourish the creatures since the new Creature Protection Act has been put into place.
Draco was sure, with the Dementors gnawing on his soul daily, eating big pieces of anything good he had ever been able to feel, he would die here within a few years. Definitely before his release date. He had no sense of time but he estimated it to be in another 20 years. No way, he would make it that far. Some days, he didn’t even manage to get up of his bed and walk the three steps to the window hole. And the occasional walks to the showers or interrogation cell had become more and more energy consuming.
These days, he mostly lay in bed on fetal position waiting for the darkness to consume him. For the sweet relief of sleep to engulf his being.
The only visitor he’d get was Hermione. Hell knows, why she, the glorious Golden Girl would spend her time conversing with him. When her visits had started, he first thought she was here to gloat.
While the gravity of his situation was clear to him, having an old acquaintance directly come and see him how he lived, the dirt on his body and the few rags covering his body, had felt as a further insult and humiliation to him. So, at first, he had pretended to not know her.
The first thing he had noticed were the lightness of the steps. He could tell which guard was coming based on the different sounds their steps made after a short while. But these were different, quicker and less heavy. That meant somebody else was coming. Something was changing, and based on his experience, it meant bad news for Draco. Maybe they had changed their mind and decided to give him the Kiss after all.
The thought of invoked less fear in him than he had expected. At least he would escape this bone-chilling cold.
But when the person entered, Draco who was staring out of the window, not moving his head to acknowledge the new visitor, could make out at the corner of his eyes brown curls. Her brown curls. She was on the other side of an invisible shield, dividing his cell into two parts.
If he had any color on his face, she would have probably seen him pale. But he hadn’t seen the outside since years.
Now was the time, he thought. The time when his former enemies decided to exert their revenge. Not that he was particularly surprised.
But then she didn’t move or make a noise for several minutes. Draco was still pretending to ignore her, but in fact, he was painfully aware of her presence with every fiber of his body. But he got curious.
Without moving his head, he looked at the corner of his eyes again. What he saw made him turn her head. Although she was standing several meters away he could make out her stricken face and, maybe he was imagining it, but her eyes seemed glassy.
At first, he instinctively felt a bit relieved at somebody noticing his abominable situation.
He took her appearance in. She was dressed simply, as in former days, but her black coat was of higher quality material, looking durable and expensive. It was the only thing he could make out she was wearing. The lines in her face had become more pronounced, but this even added to her beauty, finally a small sign of the wisdom she bore in the big brain of hers. The child-like round of her face had decreased, instead her high cheekbones, small nose and determined lips emanated her inherent persistence.
But noticing the look on her face, he grew spiteful. He felt like being a caged House Elf, she looked in pity at.
“Draco”, her voice rung with a hint of sadness. “How… how are you?”
Suddenly he felt an anger, he hadn’t known he carried, boil up in him. He was not another one of her charity projects!
Offended, he spit. “How the fuck do you think I am? Can’t you see I am marvelous?”
But she, instead of getting angry, replied calmly and a bit lost. “Sorry, I know you’re not fine. I … the way they are treating you here is awful.”
He just gave a hollow laugh in return. “Well, thanks Granger. Is there any reason for you being here except that you wanted to gawk at me?”
Draco expects her to leave any minute. He wants her to leave. To dwell in his misery alone without any onlookers.
“I guess I just wanted to see how you are doing.” Her voice softer than he remembered it being in school.
“You did now. so go away.” He turned back to his usual spot, looking out of the small hole, willing her to leave.
But she just stood there. Irritating him with her presence.
“Is there anything you need?”, apparently determined to ignore his wishes.
“Gosh, well, Granger. Because you asked so nicely, I could do fine with some caviar and whiskey right now. And while you’re on it, how about a nice little vacation to the Caribbean? Maybe without the manacles?” But he couldn’t get his usual sneering in his voice, sounding deflated instead.
However, she still wouldn’t move. But Draco didn’t care any longer, his staring in the ocean having become the vocal point for his disassociation. Now, he was floating disembodied somewhere in the world. Somewhere he’d be safe.
After a few more minutes, Hermione had decided she had seen enough and left with a gentle whisper. “Goodbye, Draco.” And then added. “Don’t worry. It will all be alright.”
Then. Draco was alone again.
Not in a million years, Draco would have expected to see her again before his discharge. But there she was, three days after their encounter, back in his cell. This time she had brought a blanket. And several books. Draco had wanted to scoff at them dismissively, but he was just so cold. And the days here were so long. So, he took the things she offered him without a word and set them down in his corner.
He would inspect them later.
Hermione, however, wasn’t leaving but still standing in his cell, clearly struggling to say something. She had already asked him some more questions, but no answer from him.
In the end, she decided to talk about her life. Draco had no clue what would have made her think this was a good idea or anything he was slightly interested in, but since speaking was a thing he disliked doing today, costing him too much energy, he didn’t tell her to leave.
So, he learned about Hermione’s Post-War life.
She was an advocate now, mostly focusing on the rights of Magical Creatures and Muggle-Born, not that this was any surprise to him. She explained the work she was up to at the moment, the clients she was representing and the strategy of the opposition. Often, she lost herself on long tirades about the ineptness of the Ministry.
And she would talk about the books she read. Draco had never heard anyone reading such a substantial variety of fiction and non-fiction books. From Indigenous Portion Brewing to Romantic Muggle Literature, she probably read about every topic there was. Boring historical altercation between nobles, bread-making instructions, research on corals, dystopian Muggle fictions and detailed reports in the Siberian wildlife, her accounts on her newly acquired knowledge she shared with him were vast.
With her fourth or fifth visit, Draco couldn’t really remember, he had stopped to try to ignore her and now acknowledge her arrivals with a small nod. And after some while, after she had falsely asserted, one could mix toad nails with willow bark, he had started to sometimes comment. He didn’t admit it to himself, but Draco would be looking forward to her visits.
While occasionally mentioning her friends like Luna, Ginny or Neville, he noticed her leaving out Harry and Ron in her stories. Probably to not upset him, Draco assumed.
Hermione had become more and more upset with his condition, asking more and more questions on his health which exhausted Draco. It’s not like that would change anything. Draco didn’t know why she was getting so anxious about him, maybe it was the cough he had more and more often, sometimes spitting some blood with it.
Or that he didn’t seem to be able to finish even the meager portions of food offered to him, feeling sick after only a few spoons of this always indefinable porridge-like mass.
A few times now, she arrived with some medicine potions, Draco didn’t bother listening to her explaining. At first, he had refused to drink them, but she had gone on and on about it and her insistence had annoyed him so much, he just gulped the acidic liquid down. Which he probably shouldn’t have done, because the next time, she brought another one, this time in pink.
When she came next, Draco had stopped counting her visits by now, he had been too lethargic to get up and fell asleep somewhen during her explanation of why Magical Slugs species needed to be researched more and why they were valuable to Wizardingkind.
In his dreams, he was warm and safe and loved. Maybe he will stay there forever? Maybe he didn't need to wake up?