The Enemy's Ball

26. Cold

It was dark. That's all Draco knew. It was very dark. The tiniest bit of light shown through the tiniest (only) window in his cell in the basement of the ministry. There was a very pale outline of a fireplace across the room from him, but it wasn't lit, and it gave off no heat. Draco shivered, the tile floor was freezing, and they hadn't even let him keep his robes. He was dressed only in the thin school uniform.

He wrapped his arms around his knees, bringing them to his chest to keep warm. No bed, no blanket, not even a robe. He began to cry. This was going to be the rest of his life. In less than a day, he would be shipped off to Azkaban to rot there forever.

He hugged his knees tighter to himself, the prison would be even colder and darker than this. And the dementors. The dementors would steal all of his happy memories. And it was true, he wouldn't have cared before, seeing as he didn't have very many. But now, his brain was cluttered with gold shimmering memories. Happy memories. Those black veiled monsters would steal everything that made Draco, Draco. And they would leave everything that made him a Malfoy.

Draco didn't want to go back to being a Malfoy. He wanted to stay as he was. Changed, for the better. Harry had helped him become a better person, and now all that time spent with him was for naught.

Harry. Draco was going to forget Harry. The stupid golden boy that laughed at the dumbest jokes and made his own. Scarhead, who put up with Draco's insults day after day, and who wanted Draco, despite his best friends being the greatest friends in the world, wanted Draco to go with him to see his almost dead loved one. Potter, who looked just as exhausted as Draco felt from being at school, from not sleeping well. Harry, who hugged Draco in the middle of the night when he was so happy (and dare Draco say proud?) of him for making that potion.

Harry, who Draco had fallen in love with despite all his unwillingness. Harry, the person Draco was going to miss more than his happy memories, because Harry was in all of them. Draco rested his head on his knees and sobbed heavily, he hadn't even gotten to say goodbye, or thank you.

Morning! As soon as the sun bathed its pink light across the castle grounds, Harry was waking up Ron and Hermione. Ron grumbled as he usually did, and Hermione looked off-put at Harry being up so early, but they both awoke and dressed in a timely manner.

Harry rushed them down to Mcgonagall's office, and he shivered as they passed the entrance hall. A cool Autumn breeze rushed through the corridors and chilled him to the bone. That made him worry more about Draco, who was already not good at dealing with cold, probably alone and freezing. Hang in there Draco, please.

They arrived at the Headmistress' office, where they found the Headmistress already waiting at her floo. "I had a feeling you would arrive at dawn," she said, "the floo is prepared and I have sent letters to a few students that I think will help. The trial will be held at 8 AM and it is currently six. This gives you two hours to prepare what you will say, and perhaps speak to a few aurors to see what they have done with Mr. Malfoy. I don't think they have taken him to-" Hermione and Ron shook their heads wildly and gestured to Harry.

Mcgonagall trained her eye on him. He was staring at the floo longingly, but also with a hint of anger, as if it was what separated him from Draco. The headmistress decided that she probably shouldn't mention Azkaban in front of the fragile boy just yet. "They have most likely detained him in the ministry's holding cells. It is absolutely impertinent that you do. not. attempt to "rescue him" from this place."

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Harry bit his tongue but didn't complain. In this case, it was probably best to listen to Mcgonagall. If Hermione could read his thoughts, she would say "In every case". But she couldn't, so she didn't. Mcgonagall stepped in between Harry's gaze and the fireplace.

"There are a few more things I need to tell you now, so please take a seat," Mcgonagall said. And with a glance up to the nosy portraits, she waved her wand, casting muffliato. Harry tore his eyes away from the fire and took a seat. This reminded him of order meetings, and it was reassuring to know that Mcgonagall was taking this seriously. Dumbledore would have probably just said, "If you sit and wait, then everything will fall into place." And then nothing would have, and Harry would have been used once more.

No matter what, Harry promised, I will help you escape, Draco.

It was only getting colder as the hours passed. From the light coming through the tiny window, Draco assumed it was around dawn. He stared at the bars of his cell, well, it was more of a cage really, since it was so small. He tried not to shiver, but this part of the ministry was not heated as it should be, and the chill down in the dungeons was much colder than it should have been. Perhaps they kept refrigerating charms on the dungeons, so in case the prisoners died, they didn't decompose. Draco grimaced, what an endearing thought.

Then another thought struck him, and Draco unwrapped his arms from his legs, breaking the position he'd been sitting in for hours. He winced as he stretched out his limbs and laid flat on the tile. He shivered as the chill quickly traveled through his back and throughout the rest of his body. But it was better to die of cold, rather than being killed by dementors.

The chill spread through Draco's torso, to his arms and head, and Draco could see tiny wisps of breath leaving his mouth. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the tile, better than dementors.

Draco had been lying there for a little over an hour, and he'd almost lost consciousness, when green flames roared in the fireplace. He sat up stiffly and clutched the bars of his cage hopefully. He dropped his hands with a disappointed sigh when he saw who it was.

An auror stalked over to his cell and took out her keys. She stared at him with an upturned lip, and Draco realized that this must be how his peers felt when he looked at them like that. He felt bad for her, she looked like she was around 30, and she still thought she was above others. At least Draco had learned sooner.

Not that it mattered, his brain chimed in, seeing as you're about to be sent to Azkaban. The auror grabbed his arm roughly and yanked him to his feet. Draco put his wrists out, and she placed handcuffs around them. His fingers were tinted purple.

"May I ask where you're taking me now?" Draco asked boredly, not giving off any sign that he had just been seriously considering suicide by frostbite

The auror scoffed, "You're going up to the trial room. They're giving you a chance to explain. If I was in charge, then I'd have sent you off to Azkaban the second you were in our custody. But a certain Headmistress seems to believe you are innocent, and the minister respects her so here we are."

She shoved him towards the fireplace harshly. Draco tried to step forward to catch himself, but his legs were still stiff from being cold for so long. He tripped over his feet and landed flat on his face.

Despite the pain of what was most likely a broken nose, Draco felt warmth spreading through him. Mcgonagall had spoken up for him? He may actually get to explain himself? Tears welled in his eyes, and the auror laughed at him, but Draco just tightened his mouth and shook her off, walking into the floo by himself. He used his shoulder to wipe his mouth, and his white dress-shirt stained red. The auror composed herself and she stared at him with distaste again, before joining him in the floo and throwing down green powder.

"The Ministry of Magic," she said, and the flames roared again. When the flames died down, a wisp of silvery magic disappeared through the small window. If anyone had been there to witness it, they would have said the magic looked an awful lot like a cat's tail. 

Updated: May 5th, 2021