Originally Posted by OtterySt.Catchpole

Chapter: None of us speaks about the monsters …Elsewhere he sat alone, his thoughts like flies buzzing over a harried corpse, bothering Draco Malfoy with remembrances of what his mother had said.

Narcissa had turned away from him, but not before the Slytherin had caught a glimpse of her cheeks stained with tears. Whoever that man was, he had made his mother cry. Still, Draco’s thoughts buzzed incessantly when he thought of that man, he seemed so familiar to Draco but from where he could not tell.

The Slytherin sat in a compartment alone, on the way to what was likely to be his last term at Hogwarts. The blonde haired boy had dismissed all company -- even Pansy who loved soothing Draco with the multiplicity of her charms -- out of a desire to lose himself in the most recent past. Draco sighed and leaned his head back against the seat hoping to collect his thoughts.

Draco Malfoy had been allowed to visit Lucius only once in Azkaban. The Dark Lord had been kind, even allowing that as a kind of present for the young Slytherin after his initiation into the Death Eaters and before receiving his first assignment as a soldier of the Dark Lord.

If Draco had thought that visiting his father would help anything -- and there were too many things that needed attention at once -- the Slytherin soon learned that he had made a foolish assumption. Lucius rebuked Draco for letting his incarceration happen.

To Draco’s way of thinking it had not been his fault that that stupid Weasley girl had hexed him with a bat bogey, or that Crabbe and Goyle were such spazzes. Draco realized that he definitely needed better henchmen if he planned to go anywhere in life.

The visit kept playing over in his mind, again and again, like a film reel in an endless loop. His brain would not let him rest, as if the visit contained some all important piece of information that could help him in the way that his father could not with what the Dark Lord had entrusted him to do.

The prison cells were nothing but stone, carved out of the earth, as if to bury alive the mistakes of the ministry‘s past officers. Azkaban was something wholly medieval. Skeletons hung from shackles in tattered robes down dungeons leading to cells in the lower levels where Azkaban housed the worst prisoners in all of the wizarding world. There was dankness and darkness where things lurked, slithered and watched gazing into the light fearful of it and the light flickering weakly sputtering on torches which if they died out would cast the dungeons in darkness and release all the beasts of night.

Draco Malfoy felt as if he were traversing catacombs to the depths of purgatory. The scene too surreal, Draco Malfoy his mother beside him making every attempt not to soil her clothes with the filth of the place, dressed in the finest clothes galleons could attire them in, visiting the family patriarch in prison.

Many things had changed as Draco did not know, since the break out at Azkaban and the mass exodus of Dementors. The more dangerous captives had been moved to the lower catacombs. As the ministry still feared a return of the Dark Lord’s minions to free his followers. His father among them.

♥

Originally Posted by OtterySt.Catchpole

Chapter: “I get up in the evening and I ain’t got nothing to say … you can‘t start a fire without a spark …”


“We will have a culling.”