Sour Grapes

Chapter 27 - The Secrets

The familiar acrid scent of the prison filled Draco's nostrils as he stepped down the dark corridor. He'd been summoned there rather abruptly and hadn't had time to mentally prepare for being back, not that it would have helped much.

The guard opened the door of the visitation room and motioned for Draco to enter. It was odd, normally they gave instructions first about the time limit. He stepped in and was further confused to see the guard follow him inside. Looking up into the dark-eyed hollow face of the prison staffer, Draco made his face impassive even though he was highly on guard.

Flicking a wand at the door, the guard silenced the room and turned to Draco.

"I've been instructed to bring you directly to your father. He's ready to reveal to you his secret, so if you'll take my arm I will apparate us to his lodgings."

The man held out his arm, but Draco just stared, incredulous.

"His lodgings?"

"You will see in due course," the guard said with a nod, still having extended his arm.

With a deep sense of foreboding, Draco took it and was instantly squeezed into the black hole of time and space for mere seconds before appearing in a different corridor. It still had the air of the prison he knew, and yet it took on the appearance of a stately manor house. Closed double doors stood directly before him.

"I will go in ahead to introduce you," said the guard, and he disentangled his arm from Draco's with some difficulty, as the latter was standing in awed shock, peering around as though he were a first-year entering the Great Hall on night one.

Draco heard the guard's distant voice on the other side of the large door announcing his name. Then the door was pulled fully open and sunlight hit his face as he strode hesitantly forward and across the threshold.

There was Lucius, not in prison rags, but fully clothed in wizard's robes and standing in the middle of a sun-drenched, glass-walled room. His black attire made him stand out like an ink stain on a white shirt as he hovered amidst a living room set adorned in white leather with carpets of the same color. The furniture and rugs were clearly charmed to allow nary a stain, as they were all clearly impeccable. A glass coffee table and a chandelier reminiscent of the one that used to hang in the drawing room at Malfoy manor glinted in the steady beams of light. Draco squinted and held up a hand to block the bright light.

"Father?"

"Thank you for coming, Draco. Do sit down, I believe an explanation is in order."

Draco walked forward and took a seat, keen to hear whatever explanation his Father was about to give him, caring little about his usual rebellion against following any orders from the man. When Lucius sat opposite him but did not speak, Draco took it as a sign that he was meant to ask questions.

"Where are we right now?"

"In a hidden extension of the prison," said Lucius, motioning to the windows, "out there is the North Sea, with the view of the sky charmed to look like a sunny day, I do detest the constant dreary weather here."

"How... how?" Draco choked.

"How else?" he said lightly, and then gave a small eye roll at his son before continuing, "tsk tsk Draco, I should have thought I'd taught you well enough to know that anyone and anything can be bought."

"But then, where is the Governor? Surely she wouldn't-"

"Madam Parmal retains her role as Governor, though, for all intents and purposes I may as well wear the title. May I offer you refreshment?" he asked with an air of such causality that Draco felt anger flare within him. He ignored the question.