Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy wasn’t one to agree with the masses of Wizarding Britain (or anyone, really), and you may make excuses or cry wolf. But Draco Malfoy knew one thing: he deserved to be here. He deserved to be in Azkaban with all its molding walls and soul-sucking cupcake-eating dementors. He deserved to rot and despair for the rest of his sentence, which was, well, a lifetime. Or was supposed to be. So what in ever-loving Merlin was fucking going on?
30 minutes or so ago
“Get up!” The guard outside his cell had barked, which was really quite rude considering that for the 3 years Draco had been here, they had ascertained a quite respectable friendship. I mean, really! 2 days ago, the man was gushing about his daughter's ballet recital, which admittedly wasn’t half bad.
Draco rolled his eyes, and stood up. Ah-ha! There it was the reason, clad in purple robe with golden embroidery. Kingsley Shacklebolt himself, Minister of Magic. Fair enough. Morgana forbid the Minister of Magic learns of a friendship between an honestly stupid guard and a prisoner. But another thought crossed his mind. Why was Kingsley here? I mean, yes, he was a deatheater, but not that important of one for the Minister to consider visiting. I mean, there was always a chance of the Ministry deciding to execute once and for all, but if his age at the time of committing his crime and the chosen one's testimony got him anything, it was a non-death sentence.
“Hello, Mr. Malfoy.” Kingsley Shacklebolt, in Draco’s opinion, should not have been chosen (yes, chosen) as the Minister. In Draco’s opinion, he would have been the last candidate for the job. Not to dismiss all his heroic endeavor’s or anything, but really? If it were Draco, he would’ve chosen somebody like Amelia Bones. Bones had a multitude of experience within the Ministry, and was close enough to the war to understand, but logical and far enough to not exaggerate. She would have made a simple, logistical Minister. Kingsley was just way too close for Draco’s taste. But alas, what would a prisoner’s opinion on the affairs of the government matter?
“-I’m sure you understand.” Shit, had he been speaking all this time? Draco didn’t want to ask, but if the chosen one’s favor had run out and he was going to die, he should have at least have confirmation to prepare himself. “Sorry, can you repeat that?” Salazar Slytherin his voice, Draco hadn’t heard his voice in a while and sure that sounds odd, but you wouldn’t have the energy to speak if you were in his position as well!
Kingsley blinked. And repeated himself, “I'm sure you understand.” Well, now Draco was going to sound even more rude. “No, I mean everything. Can you repeat everything? Paying attention hasn’t been my forte.”
If there was one trait of Shacklebolt’s that Draco could admire or just be confused about, it was his endless bouts of patience. “The Ministry will be abolishing Azkaban prison. A new legislation has been recently passed due to the rising concerns about the cruelty of Azkaban.” And Draco thought Britain would grow smarter. “Because of this, prisoners will be transferred to Numengard.” As if that wasn’t Azkaban written by psychotic german quills. “But prisoners of your…situation have been recommended a new program. We’ve recently seen the rise of the success of certain wizards of similar experience integrating themselves into Muggle society. And due to your age and potential, we would like you to join. I’m sure you understand.”
This is a joke, right? Kingsley had gotten bored inside his little office and decided to go down and travel to pull Draco’s dick (not literally, ew), right, right???