Thanks to Kaybaybay_ss for her help as a beta!!

Chapter 3

'Cause I can promise if you knew me / You would probably walk away.

Anson Seabra - I can't carry this anymore

DRACO

Really? What the hell had Hermione Granger become? Draco refused to believe it. She was part of the Auror Office?

Of course. Fuck. How could he have doubted it for a second? It was clear that those PROFSDAR bastards not only wanted to make life more difficult for him, they also wanted to humiliate him and the rest of the former Death Eaters. Sure, because he hadn't got enough after living three years of hell in Azkaban, he had to depend on Hermione Granger now that he finally had gotten his freedom back. As if he was going to run away or something. Did they really consider him dangerous still? The worst thing Draco Malfoy could do at that moment was to run to one of the Ministry windows and to jump from it. Sure, that would scandalize Hermione Granger. He almost smiled at that thought.

He tried to take his mind off of it. He thought too much about dying lately, more than usual. Anyone would have thought he had a problem.

Ferdinand gave him a stupid look when he removed the spell from those fire cuffs. As soon as his hands were free Draco was quick to rub his wrists with his fingers, sighing in relief. Granger's eyes went to the myriad of marks on his hands, old burns. Some of them had been caused by himself while trying to escape from his small cell in Azkaban. Those burning glass doors had been a fucking nightmare. He noticed that the marks were disturbing her, so he didn't hesitate to roll up his sleeve even more to show her more scars on his skin. He almost enjoyed it when she widened her eyes, scared. He almost enjoyed it, yes, but he didn't get to do it. Draco Malfoy no longer enjoyed anything.

"I'm going then. Good luck, Miss Granger."

She was going to need it, indeed. In that he had to agree with Ferdinand.

"Thank you."

She was always so polite, so elegant, despite being a mudblood. Who was she trying to impress? She didn't have to put on any tricks in front of him, it was humiliating enough having to depend on her. It was more than he could have ever imagined. It was such a masterful, sarcastic twist of fate that he almost found it funny... as well as disgusting. Would he have to be trained by Granger as if he was a rabbit?

"Welcome to PROFSDAR," she said, and Draco didn't miss the evident tremor in her voice.

Again, Draco kind of wanted to smile. He understood that she was nervous, maybe she didn't enjoy being there, humiliating him. But she would soon.

He decided not to answer.

"Well, I think introductions are not necessary, but..." Hermione continued, "I don't like skipping protocol. I am Hermione Granger, a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Brigade. I will be your guardian during this rehabilitation and reintegration program to the Magical Society."

He just looked at her. He didn't nod his head, he didn't even blink more than a few times. Draco stood in front of her with his usual bored expression, silently. Hermione had changed in recent times. She was twenty-two years old and, although she had not grown taller at all, her face was not childish anymore. It was strange to say, but right there in front of him, Hermione Granger was a woman. Her curly brown hair was longer than ever, it looped in messy ringlets, down to her waist. She looked like she had combed her hair, or at least she had tried. That was not the Hermione Granger he knew. She was wearing her usual muggle clothing: a red shirt and black pants, somewhat more formal than the jeans he had seen her in a thousand times during his teens. She had changed, Hermione Granger was very different now. Her once innocent gaze seemed to radiate strength and courage. Perhaps that was why she had dared to take a case like his.

Draco didn't give a shit, of course. Granger could take all the effort to "get him back into society" and stuff it, he didn't care. Society was precisely the last thing he wanted to belong to.

"I'm glad you chose to participate in this program, really.

Hermione watched him, as if she was trying to get a word out of him, whatever it was. Maybe she was expecting a 'thank you'. Just thinking about it already made him laugh. Or, better yet, an "I'm sorry." HA-HA. Can you imagine it? Draco Malfoy asking for forgiveness? Surely Rita Skeeter would have wanted to write about something like that, attaching a photo of what he looked like at that point. Draco didn't have any mirrors, it was true, but he didn't need to be a bloody genius to know that he looked bad, veeery bad. That he looked like any tramp in Knockturn Alley. That he looked just like Weasley in the worst of his days.

"May I go now?" He asked.

And he didn't know if Hermione seemed relieved that he had spoken or angered by such a stupid question.

"No," she replied, "I will accompany you to the PROFSDAR Residence, where you will live for the next four months until..."

Fuck. There she was again, another endless speech of data and details that were irrelevant to him. He just wanted to go out and see the sun, watch the sky one last fucking time. He didn't care what happened after. Seriously, as if the world was exploding with him on it, he didn't care about anything.

"Are you listening to me, Malfoy?"

"Yes. "

He proceeded to ignore her again. Hermione spoke, explaining rule after rule, just as she had memorized them. And every word from her was more superfluous to him than the one before. Draco didn't even bother to pretend that he was listening to her. Not even that. It took her a couple of minutes to shut up. Granger was proving herself to be the same annoying shrew she had been when she was a teenager. What had he done to deserve that? OK, maybe he had been a Death Eater.

"Follow me, we'll go to the Residence."

Hermione turned her back on him and opened the door, urging him to follow her. He knew that if she turned her back on him so quickly, it was because she had no fear that he might attack her and catch her off guard. She, after all, had her wand, and besides, she was exceptional at magic duels. Draco didn't stand a chance against her and he knew it.

He focused on thinking about the sky. He would see it soon. What colour would it be? What time was it? He didn't care. He just wanted to see the sky, take a deep breath and look up to the clouds at the same time. Just as a reminder that he had left Azkaban, that he was alive... even though he didn't want to be. Draco didn't quite understand the inner workings of his thoughts or his brain, he just let them flow.

They walked down the black hallway, which Draco didn't find very pleasant. It resembled Azkaban although it was a much cleaner and more sophisticated place. Azkaban was like a black cave, whereas the Ministry was... a dark palace.

Hermione opened a door and he stepped through behind her. Her expression suddenly became completely serious. She walked over to him and touched his shoulder without him expecting it. A moment later, they disappeared from the Ministry. Draco almost screamed when the ground seemed to be lifted and he floated for an instant. He realised that that room was dedicated solely to serving as a place from which wizards would apparate to somewhere else. He realised too late that he had lost his opportunity to see the sky there, the only thing he longed for. He cursed Granger under his breath, it was her fault he couldn't do it anymore. Suddenly he found himself in a strange place: bright, yet dim, with brown carpeted floors. Draco imagined that this was the Residence he would have to live in from that moment on. He hadn't paid attention to that part, if he had to be honest. He figured they would give him back his freedom, with some restrictions, but... living in some kind of hotel for Death Eaters? That looked a lot like Azkaban, actually.

No. No. He forced himself to correct that thought. Nothing resembled Azkaban, not even hell.

"This is the Residence," Hermione introduced without meeting his eyes.

"Damn," he growled.

"What?

And Draco spun around, staring at the nearly empty room with desperation in his eyes. Where were the windows? THERE WERE NO WINDOWS!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The only thing he had wanted, the only fucking thing he wanted, was to see the sky. Even if it was a minute, even if it was a second. And Hermione Granger had taken that possibility from him by forcing him to apparate right there with her. Draco took a deep breath and tried to apparate on the street, anywhere. He tried twice, but he failed. His body trembled, contorted and disapparated for just an instant... but he apparated in that same place immediately with a deep moan escaping from his lips. Granger knew what he was doing, of course she did, and her huge brown eyes widened. In just a moment, she was already aiming her wand at him.

"Stop!" She commanded, "you can't leave, it is forbidden, you are not allowed to!"

He tried one more time, even though he knew he was not going to be able to make it. His body dematerialized and he slammed back again. It hurt him to do so, a physical and a mental pain. It wasn't natural for something —or someone— to hold their magic back. That could cause irreparable damage to a wizard.

"Stop," Hermione Granger demanded once more.

Malfoy watched her with defiance in his gray eyes. He knew what she was thinking of him: that he seemed different, a defeated man, thin and emaciated. He was aware... but he was still Draco Malfoy, he never had stopped being that.

He didn't try to leave again and several seconds passed until Hermione lowered her wand, putting it back into her pocket.

"It is stated in the safety regulations that you will not be able to perform magic until your wand is returned to you in four months..." She explained. "And the apparition... you will have to wait a year to get that back. Can you tell me what in the world were you thinking?"

I want to see the sky, Draco answered in his mind.

He said nothing. He knew Granger would take it as a provocation.

"Malfoy," she said, and this time her voice didn't seem to be reading the damned pre-made dialogue from the PROFSDAR guardians. This time she seemed to be herself, "I'll send you back to Azkaban without hesitation. I swear."

And Malfoy's disgusted facial expression grew.

"Do whatever you want, Granger. Do you think I care?"

He took her by surprise. Obviously, she wasn't expecting it, but she still made a proud gesture. That damn expression he'd seen on Miss Granger for years. Damn Mudblood.

"You're going to get yourself in trouble, she whispered.

And, surprisingly, she left him alone. Yes, she shut up. Hermione walked several meters until she reached some reception desk that seemed empty. She rang a little bell and shortly after a witch dressed in a shimmering purple robe appeared there. Hermione and the witch began to speak, completely ignoring his presence; although, from time to time, Draco heard his name in that conversation.

How the hell could there be no windows in there? Was it done as some kind of torture for Death Eaters? Something like: "We condemn you to never see the sun again, not even after leaving Azkaban, you bastard." Those aurors were even worse than he realised.

It took several minutes until Hermione approached him again. Now she was holding a key between her fingers.

"Your room is on the fourth floor. It's number 56." She handed him his key with a cold expression on her sweet face.

He was almost amused to see her like this, playing tough. He knew Hermione Granger, he could still break her if he wanted.

"And what do I have to do? Should I remain locked there, as if it were another cell?"

"No," she answered firmly, "of course not! You can leave your room... as long as you stick to the established schedule. You will have to go to some therapy and, of course, you will share rehabilitation sessions with me. I will supervise you."

Could someone kill him now, please? He didn't care that it was a painful death, he just needed Hermione Granger to shut her mouth at once. He remained silent, staring at the ground until that know-it-all snapped her fingers in front of him, as if wanting to get his attention.

"Malfoy!" She exclaimed "Are you listening to me?"

"No."

Granger wrinkled her nose.

"Haven't you read the PROFSDAR rules yet? You cannot have accepted them without reading them first."

"I wasn't able to find them in the Azkaban library," he murmured with some sarcasm.

"Oh... well," she whispered, "I'll get you a copy of the document."

Was this girl dumb? He was about to put his hands on her shoulders, shake her, and yell, 'What fucking Azkaban library, Granger?!' There was nothing in that prison but torture, cold and... darkness. Mostly darkness. Draco went back to looking for a window in the great room; there was not a single crack there that communicated with the outside.

She pointed to some white stairs that led to the upper floors of the Residence.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at ten in the morning." You have to sign here every time you enter and exit the building, otherwise you will not be allowed to leave," she pointed out her finger to a huge book located to the right of the stairs and attached to a marble lectern. A feather floated around the pages, waiting to be picked up. "If a signature is missing from the book, you may be inspected and returned to Azkaban."

He bit his tongue to keep from saying what, unequivocally, he was thinking. 'At least in Azkaban I wouldn't have to listen to you.' Then he remembered that in Azkaban he would not listen to anyone. To nobody. A chill ran through him as Draco nodded and walked over to that book. He took the pen between his fingers and pressed it against the paper, realizing that he hadn't written anything in the last three years. His fingers still remembered how to do it and his elegant handwriting came naturally:

Draco Malfoy

She looked at him, mildly satisfied.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow at ten in the morning," she repeated.

Maybe in your dreams, Granger. He said in his mind. He didn't answer anything out loud. Then he went upstairs, feeling strange. As soon as he lost sight of Hermione Granger he realised that he was alone, finally he was alone. He was not locked in a small dark cell like in Azkaban, but he was... 'free'. He went up to the second floor, still confused, not quite sure what to do. He was looking around, but there were no windows. Was he underground? He was surprised when he reached that conclusion; even more so when he realised that, indeed, that must be the reason why there was not a single connection with the outside world. They were underground because the famous Residence was just another jail, designed to keep Death Eaters away from the real world and to keep them captive.

Draco tiredly made it to the fourth floor. He wasn't used to walking so much in one day, he hadn't done it for years. Room 56 was at the end of the hall with a simple brown door. He had never lived in such a simple place... until now. Although, to be honest, he knew he wouldn't be there long. Hopefully he would leave that same day.

He opened the wooden door with some difficulty. The lock was old and the key was a copy of another copy. He had to make a couple of tries before he got inside, as the metal didn't seem to fit very well in the lock. The room smelled stuffy, but it was clean he had to admit. And, of course, it had no windows.

"Damn," he whispered once more.

The furniture was simple: a double bed with salmon-colored sheets —Draco wrinkled his nose at that sight, they looked like Weasley's grandmother's curtains— it also had a desk with several empty scrolls, and a quill and an inkwell on the right. That was all. It was nice of them, although he did not intend to use it. Next to the wall he could see a wooden table with a vase of red flowers. What kind of cheesy shit was that? Draco sighed, walking past it. It was then that he came to a plain white door. He opened it and, just as he imagined, he came to a small bathroom that had only a toilet and a small shower. What he felt this time was... almost emotion. Hygiene in Azkaban was not an important thing, he did not even remember the last time he had been able to bathe. It had been a long time since he had even smelled himself, he felt like a wild animal.

It didn't take long for him to undress. If there was something he needed it was to be able to shower, to clean himself at least once. He hadn't known how much he wanted it until that shower had appeared before him.

He was about to step foot into the white shower tray when something caught his attention. For an instant, just one, he believed someone else was there, watching him. He was startled, but it was not long before he realised that this suspicious figure moved at the same time as him, turned at the same time as he did and... looked at him with familiar gray eyes: it was his own reflection.

His body was thin, more than he could have ever imagined: his bones seemed to stick to the skin in a rather unpleasant way and he was dirty. He was disgusting. His porcelain-white skin bore all kinds of marks: from dirt to bumps, burns, scars... what the hell had happened to him?

Azkaban had happened to him.

Draco took a couple more steps, moving closer to the mirror to inspect his face. He had fucking grown up. As if both three and five hundred years had passed at a time. His eyes were sad but he wasn't surprised, he was sad too. His eyes went hopelessly to that Dark Mark drawn on his left forearm. It was black, as always, although it was somewhat deformed and its lines were not as clear as they had once been: Draco Malfoy had received many burns on that mark. The unmistakable shape of the skull and the snake was still distinguishable, although it seemed that someone had wanted to rip it from his skin without succeeding on the task.

His entire body caused him a mix of fear, disgust, and grief. He didn't feel like himself anymore. Draco brushed his platinum blonde hair back with his fingers. It was tangled and dirty, but he would soon be out of it. Sighing, he got into that shower and turned on the hot water to the maximum, feeling that it burned him just seconds later but he did nothing to stop it. He needed to clean himself, clean himself thoroughly.

He stared at the dirt leaving his body and began to rub as hard as he could with a bar of soap. Soon, his whole body was so red as if someone was boiling him, but he did not stop rubbing furiously. After more than half an hour under the tap the hot water seemed to run out and an icy storm fell on him, but Draco didn't get out of the shower. He stayed there as long as possible, so long that for him it felt like a thousand long hours.

When the bar of soap was gone, the boy sat on the floor of the shower, with the water still falling on him. Finally, he began to cry.

I hope you liked the chapter!! I will post new chapters soon :) This is a longfic and maaaaaany things will happen but I don't really like rushing things up, so it all will come!! See you soon!