The Dragon and the Angel - [Draco/Hermione]

Chapter Sixteen - Miah

 Chapter Sixteen – Miah

“Get in, Malfoy… junior!” spat the cackling voice of one of the guards the Aurors had passed him onto. Draco had barely been out of the courtroom six minutes and already found himself in Azkaban. Though he found it queer, it was not one of Draco's biggest worries at the moment.

He was thrust into a small cell. He crumpled to the floor, his back hitting the cold, black stone behind him. He had passed his father’s cell on his way to this one and had been very keen to leave him. The taunts that Lucius Malfoy had yelled after his son would stay with him forever. The fact that Lucius had said he was proud of him was the one that had hurt the most.

It wasn’t until Draco had hoisted himself up into a sitting position that he noticed he was not the only person in the cell.

A young girl, probably about eleven or twelve years old, sat in the opposite corner of the cell. She should be going to Hogwarts, was all Draco could think about. What could she possibly have done to wind up in here with thugs like him?

She didn’t speak to him. Draco thought she must not have been able to talk, but he venture a greeting anyway.

“Hello.” He murmured hesitantly.

“Hello.” She replied in an airiest and most hoarse voice Draco had ever heard as she twirled pieces of her waist-length black hair around her delicate fingers. The undersides of her nails were caked with mud. Her eyes were of a dark forest green, not nearly the same shade as Harry’s, and hers seemed to go on forever, in an endless pit of green.

That’s when Draco realized what type of person she must be. Draco imagined this little girl having grown up in a rich and prestigious family. She had learned not to speak lest addressed to and only answer what was asked of her. He gazed into her eyes again and noticed how hollow they seemed to be. And he had believed his childhood to be horrifying.

“What’s your name?” Draco continued, feeling sorrow for the girl, but she seemed to feel the same for him. The way she looked at him, it seemed that Draco was the young one and she was an old woman.

“Miah,” answered the girl as she dropped her hair in front of her and let it drape over her chest. “Miah with an ‘h’.”

“I’m Draco,” he said slowly. “Draco Malfoy.”

“I guessed as much.” Miah flinched suddenly, as if she was used to getting hit or abused, then quickly stuttered, “I-I apologize most profoundly if I was r-rude to you, sir.” She looked like she was about to cry. She shook uncontrolably with tears.

Draco was then no longer worried about his own fate. He wanted to help this little girl, Miah with an ‘h’. He wanted to save her from a horrible fate. Death or insanity, most likely, but that would come when she was here for a long ti–

“It’s alright,” he assured her quietly. “But, Miah… How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully, a silent tear rolling down her mud-covered cheek. Draco could see the slightest bit of smooth porcelain skin under all the dirt. He wanted to reach over and dry the tear with his sleeve, but daren't move. “Three, maybe four…”

Draco had been expecting her to say hours, minutes even. Maybe days, but at the maximum weeks, not years. She couldn’t still be alive for years, this small delicate little girl with raven black hair. Again, Draco found himself thinking of Sirius Black, the prisoner that Azkaban fortress had held for twelve long years before he escaped.

“Three or four centuries, most likely.” She informed him.

"Three or four.... centuries?" Draco spluttered.