Chapter Text
5 June 2000
It had been a little over two years since the final battle- twenty-five months and three days to be exact.
After the Light Side won, the Death Eaters had been rounded up, and the hunt began for those that had decided to run.
Draco, unlike his parents, had decided to take his punishment head-on. He had been tired of living in fear, and doing the bidding for those who could give less than shite about him just didn’t sit well anymore.
He wanted it over, and so he turnt himself into Ministry custody immediately.
It helped, of course, that he had taken his mark under duress, and that not only had he lied at the Manor to save the Golden Trio, he’d also thrown Potter his wand and run to the Light Side when it really counted.
This, unfortunately, had not been a muggle game of Monopoly, and he didn’t have a magical Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card. He hadn’t been entirely innocent, and before the forced duress, he’d believed in all that had been fed to him about blood purity and muggleborns.
So, just like all the other Death Eaters, he went to Azkaban. He wasn’t allowed to retake his final year at Hogwarts like others in his year had been offered. Whilst some students had travelled back to take their NEWTs, and others had chosen to start their lives without those crucial tests, Draco Malfoy sat in a cold cell.
He was lucky, though. Due to him being a minor when he had been marked, his sentencing had been lighter. He was allowed to see daylight thrice a week, he received both visitors and texts to read and study, and he had only been sentenced to three years in prison. He would have his wand privileges revoked for the five years post imprisonment, and was sentenced to his probation in Muggle London; therapy sessions and a Muggle Studies program were also required for his rehabilitation plan- both in Azkaban and during his non-magical probationary period. All very official, and Draco had to admit, quite fair and fitting for his crimes.
Coincidentally with the battle’s timing, he’d been sentenced to prison on his eighteenth birthday, and would finally be free on his twenty-first.
And, oh, how he looked forward to that sweet day.
Today, however, was only his twentieth birthday, and unfortunately for him, it meant he was locked in Azkaban for one more year.
At that exact minute, the young heir was being walked out by a guard to his two visitors for the day. Prisoners were only ever allowed to receive one per week, unless it was their birthday or Yule- then they could have two.
Theo, Pansy, and Andromeda had all come to see him in May, so that he could have the two most important people be with him now on his birthday.
Once he and the guard were finally in the holding room for the inmates, he could see his two ‘guests’ through the fenced window.
It was a nice day, and he was on good terms with the warden, so they had allowed him and his visitors to be outside at a small magically fenced picnic table.
There was a well-decorated cake of silver and gold filigree with small pistachio macarons on top forming a circle around the edge. Draco thought it looked lovely, and he assumed the house-elves had been hard at work baking him his favorite cake: Ricotta and Pistachio.
Before finally stepping outside, Draco paused to look at his reflection in the window.
Due to his imprisonment, his grooming routine was sporadic and only allowed for the necessities. He’d just taken a shower, but his appearance still gave evidence to his now less-than-perfect looks. His hair was far too long for his liking. Azkaban only allowed for three haircuts a year, so his hair was nearly to his shoulders now. He also couldn’t shave often, so he now sported a scruffy two centimeter long beard across his jaw.
He huffed to himself and rolled his eyes at his own vanity. And with that, he turned back to the guard and both went through the open doorway.
“Draco, darling. Happy birthday!”
“Thank you, Mother. The cake looks delicious.”
Once he was within their vicinity, he tucked his mother into a hug, and breathed in her familiar scent of roses and bergamot. The scent calmed him and brought him into his current present. He took great joy in this day, and thanked Salazar and Merlin for the opportunity to not be in a cold and damp cell on his birthday.
When mother and son finally parted, he turned to the person standing quietly to the side of his mother.
He hadn’t seen her in nearly two months.
Whilst his therapy sessions were twice a week, his muggle studies program was only quarterly until his prison time was served.
The girl who captured his heart slowly walked forward.
“Happy birthday, Draco.”
Her soft and quiet alto was a soothing balm on his soul.
“Thank you, Hermione.”
As he finished his sentence he moved himself in front of her and pecked her on the cheek.
This tiny, butterfly kiss was like a dam opening, and both of them collapsed into one another.
Hermione weaved her arms around his neck and crushed her petite frame into his. Draco could feel her body racking with sobs into his chest. He could smell her sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent, and it almost brought him to his knees.
He tried not to follow her into bittersweet tears. He knew she was crying for joy and sorrow all in one.
“Shh... It’s alright, love. I’m fine. I’m so happy you’ve come to see me today.”
As his words seemed to calm his little witch, she slowly stopped crying and the sniffles began. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I’m so sorry I couldn’t visit you in May. Did you receive my letters?”
“Of course I did, sweetheart. Potter personally delivered them to me each time. The fucking wanker wouldn’t shut up about being our own personal owl,” Draco finished with an eye roll.
This made Hermione giggle, and his mother finally cleared her throat.
“Ah, yes. Apologies, Mother. I quite forgot myself.”
“No apologies necessary, Dragon. It’s does a mother’s heart good to see her son so happy after such tragedy. Now, let’s eat, shall we?”
The next few hours were spent in-between his two favorite women- two favorite people, truthfully, and it was the perfect beginning to the last year of his incarceration.