"Perhaps we should leave…" Mother whispered anxiously.

It's over. The Dark Lord's dead. I am still trying to absorb the immensity of it. For one precious moment I felt completely free.

"I did not want to draw attention to us," Lucius, my father, murmured uneasily, looking around him at the celebrating crowd.

And then the walls closed back in.

"Someone will notice soon enough anyway," Narcissa replied logically although the effect was slightly ruined when her voice shook.

For the first time I began to wonder seriously what would become of us. I'd thought about it before of course but it was never more than idle fantasy, usually stifled quickly. I had not truly believed that Potter would ever defeat the Dark Lord. But now…

Now what? We wouldn't get off lightly. We were, after all, the Malfoys. Everyone knew of our involvement with Him. And what did the Ministry do with Death Eaters? Threw them in Azkaban of course.

I had an absurdly strong urge to laugh wash through me. We were going to Azkaban. Fuck.

What could they do? Father and I were known Death Eaters and Mother was too involved with us, even if she hadn't technically taken the mark. There was no one to save us, I realized with a start, watching Mother nervously twiddle her fingers. No one to bail us out this time.

I quickly clenched my fingers as they started to tremble, determined not to show signs of my weakness, especially to Father. Who would even consider saving the Malfoys? Certainly not anyone in a position to do so. The most I could hope for, I realized, was a short enough stay in Azkaban so that I wouldn't go completely insane, or die there. The thought was not a comforting one.

If only I hadn't tried to bring Potter to the Dark Lord, he might have been willing to … what? Get me and my Death Eaters family out of Azkaban? Not likely. I don't even know why I thought of it, it's not as though we're even close to friendly.

Azkaban.

The word was chilling, terrifying, and I now had to sit on my hands to cover their shaking.

As much as I'd mocked Potter for fainting before Dementors, the truth was, I wasn't much better. And now I was going to spend the rest of my life with them. Not that 'the rest of my life' meant very much now.

How much time did the sentence refer to? Months? Weeks? Hours?

It wouldn't even just be me, either. Father would have to go back there. I don't even know how he survived his first trip. In fact, I strongly suspect that a chunk of his sanity was lost in that visit.

And my Mother. Narcissa, who hadn't even done much – a Crucio here and there, usually to other Death Eaters, and always at the Dark Lord's command – would have to join us, simply because she'd refused to leave her husband and son.

I wondered bizarrely if we'd get a shared cell. Family discount?

I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind, they were too much to deal with right now, and slowly became more aware of my surroundings. I was surprised Potter wasn't here, basking in the attention. I'd seen him slip out earlier, under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak, which I'd finally figured out that he owned.

"Malfoys." I jumped and, judging from Kingsley Shacklebolt's amused expression, so did my parents.

"I have to take you to the Ministry," he explained and my stomach lurched. "Are you going to come with me quietly or will I have to subdue you?" he asked, face hardening.

"Of course we'll come with you," Mother said smoothly, looking the epitome of calm, as though she got arrested everyday.

"Hand over your wands," Shacklebolt said sharply, leveling his own at Lucius. Apparently agreeing to be peaceful meant nothing when you were a Death Eater. Mother looked to me and I quickly looked down.

"It got destroyed in the Fiendfyre, I'm sorry," I breathed and for a second I could see the sadness seeping into her eyes.

"Well then none of us have wands," she shook her head, turning back to Shacklebolt.

"Fiendfyre?" he asked, looking quite alarmed. I knew why. "What-"

"It's either out or permanently contained," I shook my head, "in the Room of Requirement." I could tell that he had no idea what I was talking about but played along.

"Why would you conjure Fiendfyre?" he hissed and I shook my head rapidly.

"It wasn't me, it was Crabbe!"

"And where is he?" he raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing me.

"Dead," I looked down and he frowned.

"Killed by the -"

"Fiendfyre," I finished for him, nodding.

"Convenient," he said dryly.

"There were other people there," I protested, before realizing that naming those people wouldn't help me in the slightest.

"Who?" he asked instantly and I winced inwardly. Fuck my life. Or maybe that wasn't the best thing to be thinking in my position. Tempting fate.

"Potter, Weasley and Goyle," I sighed, not liking the look of dark understanding that seeped into his eyes.

"Well I'll ask them what happened then, shall I?" he drawled. "Come along then," he cleared his throat. I stood up and, feeling as though all eyes were on me, followed Shacklebolt and my parents along the edge of the Great Hall and out into the night. Waiting for us was a carriage, which Shacklebolt explained had an anti-Apperation charm on it for when we left the wards of the castle.

I wasn't really listening. How could I listen to the first chapter of my inevitable death? Because really, Azkaban and death went hand in hand. If not a literal death, although that was the most likely, then a metaphorical one of some kind.

As soon as we'd passed through the gates each of us were seized by an Auror and Apperated into the Ministry. Yet another confirmation that cooperation meant nothing. Or maybe the others had it even worse. We were silently shown to a cell and pushed inside.

"The dates of your Wizengamot trials are of yet undetermined," a broad-faced Auror informed us and then, with a look of badly disguised glee, slammed the heavy door shut in our faces.

We stood there for a few minutes, simply staring at the door, until I felt my knee's trembling a bit too much for my liking and I quickly went and sat down on a bench covering one side of our cell. After a moment Narcissa followed me.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she murmured anxiously, looking at me like she'd never see me again.

"I-" my voice squeaked embarrassingly and had to clear my throat before continuing. "I'm fine," I sighed.

For now.

She'd already asked me, both her and Father, as soon as they'd found me in the Great Hall, but I only belatedly remembered that I hadn't asked it back.

"Are you alright?" I frowned.

"Oh I'm fine," she shook her head, staring off into a memory that I couldn't see. I knew she was lying, she'd spent the last few hours with Voldemort, of course she wasn't fine, but I let it go.

A wave of panic swept over me again as we sat there quietly, watching Lucius stare blankly at the cell door and it was all I could do to keep my breaths even and controlled.

I don't know how long we stayed that way – the panic was quite numbing – but eventually I couldn't take the quiet anymore and blew out a long, frustrated sigh. The unexpected noise made my parents jump and Lucius turned to us abruptly, frowning deeply.

"I'm sorry," he breathed and I slumped into the wall behind me in shock.

"This was never… I-" he stumbled over his words and I looked at him with slight pity. I don't know why, really, what reason I had to pity him but it was the only emotion that cut through the fear, still resting in a tight knot in my chest.

"This is my fault."

The words seemed to pain him but neither Mother or I made any move to say anything. What could we say? It was, unfortunately, rather true.

"I never wanted either of you to go to Azkaban." The last word came out choked and my panic returned full force, nearly debilitating.

"We've all made mistakes," Mother said diplomatically and rose to stand in front of him. "Your Father practically bred you for this," she shook her head. "As did mine."

"And now we've done exactly the same thing to Draco," he breathed, the pain startling evident in his usually cold eyes and both of them turned to stare at me.

"Well no worries about me doing the same thing to my own son," I said flatly, mainly to get them to stop staring like that. "I won't ever have one."

It could have been interpreted a number of way's but with Azkaban weighing so heavily on everyone's minds it was quite obvious what I meant. I looked up from the floor to see Mother's eyes pouring out tears and Father facing the door again. I'd never seen him even remotely like this before.

"They might not give you a very long sentence," Mother tried, the words rushing out. "You've never killed anybody."

I've tried though, I wanted to scream at her. And I've hurt people, sent them to St. Mungo's, if my last name isn't enough. I didn't say any of what I was feeling though. It was already painfully obvious, she didn't need to hear it.

"Maybe you're right," I said soothingly, letting a small, fake, smile touch my lips and was rewarded when her stiff posture relaxed an inch. It seemed to have the opposite effect on my Father however and he tensed up even more, obviously seeing through my half-hearted lie. The man was going to seriously hurt himself if he strained his muscles anymore.

I honestly don't think I'd ever seen him so unguarded before. I presumed it was the memories of his previous capture with the Ministry that was doing it, coupled with the fact that his family was here with him. His wife and son.

I felt so exposed, sitting there with my Father on one side and my Mother on the other, in the tiny cell, even though nobody was there to see. I have no idea how long we sat there before a guard's voice broke the silence, telling us to sit down on the bench, where we were already sitting, and to stay still. As though we were going to jump him and fight our way through the entire Ministry without wands.

"I'm coming in!" he announced and I rolled my eyes. "No funny business!"

No. He did not just say that. Utterly unreal.

The door opened slowly to reveal a nervous looking, young, Auror-in-training. Or so I supposed. He certainly couldn't be a fully qualified Auror. At least I hoped not. That would be a sad day for the Ministry.

"I am bringing you food," he stated unnecessarily as the tray floated in.

"You will be tried separately by the Wizengamot," he announced importantly after a second's wait, puffing out his chest as though he'd ever be a part of the panel.

"Narcissa Malfoy, you will be tried first in four days on Wednesday, May 6th. Lucius Malfoy, you will be tried second, in five days, on Thursday, May 7th. Draco," here he stopped to snigger, the little fucking git, and my eyes stretched again to the ceiling.

"Draco Malfoy, you will be tried third, in six days, on Friday, May 8th. You will stay here until such times as your trials will take place," the man read off a slip of paper and despite the ridiculousness of the situation I felt a jolt of fear. This was it. I had six days left before the start of the end of my life. The man left abruptly, slamming the door once again, and I was left with my thoughts, parents and some sort of rice and meat mixture.

I sighed. This was what we were reduced to.