Save Me

ALONE

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Draco woke to the sound of his blood hitting the ground. He reached up and touched his face, it was pitch black, but he didn't need a mirror to know it had been beaten and split. Where was he? Hazily, he remembered what had happened. It was May 8th, 1998, 6 days after the battle of Hogwarts when Harry Potter killed Voldemort. Draco couldn't seem to remember anything before the battle, but a piercing pain went through his chest as he remembered his mother calling his name "Come Draco." There was a line he would not cross. He would not risk his mother and father dying from his disobedience. Besides, hadn't Potter been killed? What hope was there? He had to step forward. Draco suddenly couldn't breathe. He clutched at his chest. He remembered every step. Loyalty to his family, cloaked by betrayal. He'd betrayed his headmaster, his teachers, and his friends. No one even tried to stop him, they just...let him go.

He could taste the salt from slow tears on his tongue. Water. He needed water.

Draco hugged his knees. He was probably going to die. He deserved it, he thought, after everything.

He tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness. He felt along the walls, stone and cold. There was a chamber pot in the corner, along with a small tray. It must have been there before he woke. Draco squinted down and made out a faint round shape and a tall glass. Food. He quickly grabbed the stale bread but choked when he took a bite. It tastes like sawdust, he thought. He drank the water more slowly. At least he wasn't going to die from dehydration, starvation, maybe.

He suddenly felt exhausted and remembered the pain in his face. He laid down and slowly drifted to sleep in the silence. Alone.

–

The sounds of many locks clicking woke him up. Draco squinted as a door swung open. A man walked in, and Draco thought he knew him. Rufus Scrimgeour, previous Auror, and current Minister of Magic walked in. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy. Miss me?" Draco just stared blankly. "Well, I suppose you must be rather confused at the moment. You see, I was rumored to be dead. Captured by the late Voldemort and later killed. Captured, yes. Killed? Obviously not."

Draco tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse from lack of use. It came out as more of a whisper. "Wha- What do you want? And where am I"

"That is a very interesting question. Frankly, I don't think it matters where you are, given that you will be dead in a week's time. But if you must know, Azkaban."

Fitting, Draco thought. The wizarding world's most dangerous 17-year-old criminal.

Scrimgeour continued, "I thought you might benefit from knowing that I've promptly advocated for skipping any trials of defense in favor of Voldemort's Death Eaters, particularly his inner circle."

"My parents?"

"Dead."

Dead. The word stung. Mainly because Draco already knew, but couldn't bring himself to admit it. If his family was dead that meant everything he did was for nothing. Killing Dumbledore was for nothing, becoming a Death Eater was for nothing.

"Really, the process shouldn't be taking this long, but there's been some political pushback I'm afraid. Something about young witches and wizards not understanding the weight of the situation and ending up on the wrong side of the war. I don't believe there's such a thing as being in the wrong place at the wrong time Mr. Malfoy. Tell me, do you?"

"I believe situations are multifaceted and personal motives should not be assumed." It was the best thing Malfoy could think of at the moment.

"Funny. You would have made an excellent politician in another life. Too bad you only get one. And this is it."

"Thank you for graciously reminding me, I seem to have forgotten given the luxurious accommodations I'm currently staying in." Draco might be in prison, but he wouldn't lose his wit.

"Cheeky." With that, Scrimgeour straightened his coat jacket, turned his heel, and left.

Great, no trial, and this is the 'good' side. Maybe the Minister would be kind enough to lend Draco a quick death. Poison? Hanging? Maybe a simple Avada Kedavra. The curse might be unforgivable, but surely the ministry would make an exception for Death Eaters. You had to mean it, but given that Scrimgeour had been captured, Malfoy was sure he had some pent-up emotions. At least his parents wouldn't have to see him die.

With that small relief, Draco drifted back to sleep.

–