Snow Storm - D.M , H.G

21. Welcome home

Draco could hardly believe that that ruddy weasel had actually done it, he'd actually thrown him in Azkaban! After being held at the Ministry of Magic for several hours, Draco was transferred to the wizard prison under the cover of night. Luckily, Minister Shacklebolt had removed all dementors from their posts, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it was still prison, and he was still a former death eater. The new guards might not have been soul-suckers, but they had a rage all of their own. They were used to taking out their anger on people like him all day long. Voldemort's followers, who had committed crimes so disgusting, so heinous, that they deserved every minute of their punishment. Draco liked to pretend he wasn't one of those people, but despite the fact that he'd never found joy in the things he was made to do on the Dark Lord's behalf, he'd done them. So for forty-eight hours, Draco, too, received the brunt of their, albeit justified, rage.

He would have preferred the soul-suckers.

Draco was sitting alone on the cold hard floor of his cell late Tuesday night, hungry (he'd refused to eat the garbage food he was offered), sleep deprived, and a little banged up from enduring the guards' idea of "discipline". He was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to get out. No one would talk to him about his case. He'd received no feedback regarding the findings of his alibi, no word of if his father had been found and was pressing charges, or what. Would he make it out in time to take his N.E.W.T.s? Would he make it out in time to see his child born? He'd be lucky to receive a sentence so short.

"Merlin, Malfoy. You look like shit."

Draco looked up at the voice of his most unlikely ally and offered him a halfhearted sneer. "Come to get a look at me at my lowest, Potter?" he asked, but he was truly relieved. If Potter was here, maybe that meant good news.

"Actually, I'm here to take you back to your very lonely, very pregnant girlfriend." Harry's smirk rivaled that of Draco's signature one.

Draco stood quickly. "Don't fuck with me, Potter." This was the best case scenario, and he hadn't dared hoped it could be that easy.

"Not fucking with you, Malfoy. Your father says it never happened, once we managed to get his statement. Plus your alibi checks out. No victim, no crime." With that, Harry unlocked the cell, opening the door wide. Draco couldn't get out fast enough, but just as he was crossing the threshold, Harry put a hand up, holding Draco in place. "That's three times, Malfoy. Three times I've gotten you out of this place. I'd do anything to see Hermione happy, and for some godforsaken reason you make her happy. Don't make me do it again."

Draco heeded Harry's warning, and thanked him for once again sticking his neck out for him. Harry escorted the Slytherin back to the school, where Harry knocked on the door to the shared dorm, Draco standing off to the side out of sight.

It had been a miserable couple of days for Hermione, and she wasn't even the one who was locked up. Every time she managed to fall asleep, every time, she dreamed he had come back to her, the charges were dropped, and he was safe. And when she woke up, she was alone, he was still gone. She spent most of her time in bed, she had been ordered to take it easy, after all. She attended her classes, and she ate as much as she could at meals, alone in the dorm, but that was it.

It was Tuesday night when she heard a knock on her door, she hadn't heard anything about his case, she had wanted to write Harry every hour for updates, but she also wanted him working to get Draco out, so she'd resisted.

She got out of bed, pulled on a robe, and went to the door. When she opened it, she saw Harry standing there. "Any news?" She asked him hopefully, stepping aside to let him enter. If he was here, it was either good news, or very bad news.