Azkaban was a horrible, bitter-cold place on a barren island that reeked of rotting fish and oil. It was so cold that visitors had to wear thick winter cloaks even in the middle of July. The boat Draco and Narcissa had to take to get there was crowded and the mist that sprayed their faces felt like they were being dive-bombed by millions of mosquitos. The sky that day was a gorgeous bright blue that made it feel like they were being taunted. Narcissa stood tall and regal while her 18-year-old son clutched her arm tightly, cowering like a small child, his hat pulled over his eyes because he couldn't bear being seen in public; all the glares and whispers, the horrible words that were spat at them; it was his fault his mother had to put up with that; it was his fault his father would get his soul sucked out; everything was his fault.

He tried to make himself small as he and his mother were searched, cleared, (they had to leave their wands with a guard, of course) and led to the visiting area by a very cranky-looking wizard who didn't look any older than Draco except for several gray streaks in his hair.

He led them into a brick room with harshly bright candles burning on caged torches; the walls were made from brutal gray cinder blocks and the door could only be opened from the outside. There was a single barred window at the top of the room that looked out over the angry black ocean. There was a set of iron bars in the middle of the room; the other side of the bars looked exactly like Narcissa and Draco's side, except it didn't have a window. They waited a few minutes before a guard led Lucius Malfoy into the part of the room opposite his wife and son.

Azkaban had made Lucius appear almost twice his age; his hair was strawlike and lifeless, his face was wrinkled and lined, and a bush of prickly blond stubble grew from his chin. He didn't look proud anymore; quite the opposite; defeated, scared, vulnerable. Draco felt a punch of guilt in his stomach; he should be behind those bars with his father; he should be condemned to the Dementor's Kiss. It should've been me. He'd thought that about a million times since the Battle of Hogwarts; every time he read the obituary of someone who'd died in the battle; every time he read a Daily Prophet article about repairs being made to places and things Voldemort and the Death Eaters destroyed; every single second of every single day.

The three of them reached through the bars and held each other's hands, exchanging pitiful attempts at smiles.

"Narcissa..." Lucius was the first to speak; his voice was hoarse and small.

"Yes, dear?" A tear traced Narcissa's powdered cheek. A few tears slid down Draco's face as well, though it seemed Lucius had no tears left to cry.

"H-Hyacinth..." Lucius stammered, his stormy eyes focused on a different place and a different time.

Draco looked down shamefully at the name and Narcissa shed more tears and shook her head. "Darling,..." she held her husband's hand harder.

"He-he..." Lucius stammered. "The forest... the werewolf... we have to... save him..." Draco's stomach tied itself into knots.

"Seven years ago." Narcissa choked. "He died seven years ago."

Draco leaned his head against the bars and sobbed; the death of Hyacinth Malfoy, his younger brother, had been his fault; even if he couldn't have prevented the war and the deaths of all those people, Hyacinth's death was entirely Draco's responsibility...

Lucius broke down weeping at this realization. "M-my soul... his... when I die... I'll never see..."

Narcissa could no longer hold back tears; they burst from her eyes. "I-I know... h-he kn-knows... he knows y-you love h-him... I-I wish h-he were h-here now..."

This made Draco collapse to the cold floor, images of the night the little boy had died flashing before his eyes; the cliff, the forest, the lanterns, the music, the full moon, Hyacinth's laughter, Hyacinth's excitement, the howl, panic, running, Hyacinth's broken, mangled body, his eyes, alive with excitement and mischief only a few short moments ago, now glassy and cold, gone... ever since, Draco had tried to push him from his mind; not just the night he died; everything; he'd tried to pretend Hyacinth had never existed; his parents had refused to alter his memory, but he still pushed Hyacinth to the back of his mind; the only time he ever thought about him was July 26th- the anniversary of his death, when he and his parents visited his grave.

Draco felt his mother's arms wrap around him. "I-it's okay..." she whisper-sobbed. "It's okay... i-it's n-not your fault, b-baby..." his father cupped his cheeks.

Weeping, Draco nodded, clutching onto his parents.

"I'm sorry..." Lucius croaked in his ear.

The boy took shaky deep breaths.

Narcissa saw an opportunity. "He would want you to go, you know." She struggled to talk without choking. "To H-Hogwarts..."

At this, Lucius arched his pale, bushy eyebrows. He looked at his son. "Draco... were you invited back to Hogwarts?"

Draco avoided making eye contact with his father. "I'm not going..."

"And just why not?" Lucius looked hurt and slightly angry.

"Because..." Draco shook his head. "I-I can't... not after what I've done..."

His parents shot each other a look that he couldn't quite read.

"I mean," the boy said bitterly, "I don't deserve to go back... I'll just be the Death Eater That Got Away... honestly, I should be the one about to get my soul sucked out- er-sorry, Father..."

But the older man didn't focus on the last part; he leaned forward as far as the bars would let him. "That's not true, Draco; you will be the Death Eater That Got Away if you don't go back."

"This is your chance, sweetheart," Narcissa placed her hand gently on her son's arm, "to prove that you aren't what they say you are..."

Draco turned around and punched at the air bitterly. "But I am what they say I am, Mother." He faced them once again. "I am a horrible person. I don't deserve to go back..."

His mother walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "They won't stop saying these things until you prove they are wrong." He met her light powder-blue eyes before she continued, "they are wrong, Draco; I often wonder how we ended up with such a wonderful, sweet, good boy."

Draco pushed her away. "You have to say that; you're my mother."

"You are good." His father said.

"NO I'M NOT!" Draco screamed, his voice echoing around the room. He began to cry. "I-it was my choice..."

Narcissa embraced him. "Go back,... please... you'll see Blaise... and Theodore..."

"Son," Lucius said, "consider it... consider this my dying wish: go back to Hogwarts."

Draco met his father's eyes. "I'll think about it." He retorted bitterly and marched to the door. "Is like to leave now." He snapped.

The door opened and let him through before locking itself shut again, muffling his parents calling him.

Before Narcissa could catch up with him, he'd already reclaimed his wand and left on the boat back to the mainland.

When he got onto the docks on the mainland, he sighed and disapparated to the first place that came to mind.

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