Inevitable

18 | Azkaban

Draco stepped forward as the gate buzzed and lifted his hands. The guard ran his wand over his front, then his back, checking for spells or hidden magical objects on his person.

The wand shot green sparks, and the guard smiled kindly. "You're cleared to go in, Mr. Malfoy. I just need you to check your wand here at the desk. You can pick it up on your way out."

"Thank you, Officer."

"There are Anti-Magic Wards over the entire prison beyond this point, so taking wands is really just a formality."

Draco nodded. "I understand."

"Alright. Follow me."

The guard led him through the prison and back into a section labeled "Infirmary."

There was a round desk in the center of the block of cells. Draco counted twenty-five cells, clearly numbered, in the block. Each with a reinforced door and a small, barred window.

There were several guards sitting at the desk, and one witch who was wearing different, bright purple robes. She was clearly the Azkaban Healer who had written to him.

"I'll leave you here," the guard said, "Healer Fredrickson will take you to your father's room."

The healer smiled at him as she walked over.

"Mr. Malfoy, so good to finally meet you." She stretched out a hand, and Draco shook it politely.

"Good to meet you as well."

"Your father is in room 18. Follow me."

She turned and led him around the desk, still speaking as they walked.

"I understand you're a Healer as well?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Your father is such a sweetheart. He talks about you a lot, you know."

Draco gawked at her back for a moment, feeling grateful that she was facing away from him, before quickly schooling his features into a stoic, slightly disinterested expression.

Lucius Malfoy? A sweetheart? That was something he'd never heard before. Ever.

And then they were standing in front of a door labeled "Number 18," and Draco's stomach dropped almost painfully. He closed his eyes briefly before following Healer Fredrickson inside the cell.

It was Lucius Malfoy who was lying there on the bed, but he's barely recognizable. Gone is the distinctive mane of white-blonde hair. He is completely bald, mottled red sores and scabs dotting his bare scalp. His skin is tinged with grey, and his eyes are slightly dull, but he looked up and they brighten when Draco enters the room.

"Draco, my boy," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll give you two a moment," the Healer said, giving Draco an encouraging nod as she slipping out and closed the door behind her.

"Come closer please, son."

Draco crossed the room and tentatively sank into the chair at his father's bedside.

"Hello, Father."

"I'm proud of you, Draco. I see you've managed to restore our good name. I even heard the strangest rumor that you were dating Harry Potter. Good for you! If that doesn't help the Malfoy name, what will?"

"I... I was."

"Ah. What happened?"

Draco looked away. "He ended it. To protect me."