All Our Yesterdays

All Our Yesterdays

Chapter 6 - The woman in the tree

"So I try to be like you
Try to feel it like you do
But without you it's no use
I can't see what you see
When I look at the world"

(When I look at the world - U2)

The first ray of sunlight silently invaded the living room of Draco Malfoy's apartment through the half opened curtain. He blinked repeatedly trying to get used to the illumination. Again, he tried to get lost in his sleep, but he concluded that it was impossible. He took a few seconds to understand what had happened; to understand why he was laying in the floor of the living room, in a weird position, with his hands full of cuts marked by curdy blood. Slowly, he lifted his head, looking around at the place, which was partially destroyed. He noticed the pieces of glass spread on the floor, dangerously near to his body. He saw the coffee table overturned and the objects that usually were on the sideboard, broken. He remembered. No matter how hard he tried to forget, how hard he wanted to pretend that the conversation of last night never happened, he remembered.

He stood up, a little dizzy. His head was spinning and seemed like it would explode, due to so much pain. He knew it had nothing to do with the drink - he hadn't drunk enough for a hang over - but with the fact that for the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy had cried himself to sleep. Even his dreams were weird and disturbing. He was always looking for her, but never found her. He woke up with a bad sensation, as if he had not slept for a minute. He was flat.

He walked slowly, trying to keep his balance till he reached the bathroom just to find out that, looking at the mirror, he not only felt flat, but also seemed flat. His face was red and bloated. His hair was pointing at all directions. His shirt was dirty of blood and wine, and his hands were awful. He was the image of desperation.

Closing his eyes, Draco opened the shower and did not waste time in taking off his clothes; instead, he climbed in under the water. He felt it in warm blasts; massaging his back, but the sensation did not provoke any improvement in his spirit. Actually, he could not think of anything that could make him feel better. He just finished the shower, cleaning the cuts, ignoring the pain and the emptiness. He still felt alone and this feeling was entirely new.

He came back to the bedroom, dripping some water on the floor. He did not even notice. He opened the wardrobe and saw his clothes separated. He was not in the mood to wear them. He was not in the mood to do anything. It was like if had died and his body simply wasn't notified officially. He had no idea of how he would go to work today. He did not want to leave his home. He just wanted to lie down in his bed, crouching himself in a small ball and stay like that, without thinking about anything else, hiding from the world.

With a final sigh, he decided that was exactly what he would do. All the anger, the rage, the will, was temporarily forgotten. The only thing left was the killing conscience that she was dead. Now, Draco could understand the desperation of Lindsey's parents. Missing was not worse than dead, because there was still a place to hope. But what kind of hope could he have facing death?

'The hope of killing the bastard who did it,' he thought immediately, but, in his mourning, that was an empty thought, because deep inside he knew nothing could bring her back. There was no consolation to death.

So, Malfoy went to his bed and closed his eyes, trying as hard as he could to forget that there was a world around him. He was so exhausted that he fell asleep almost immediately. He woke up one hour later, to the noise of the alarm clock. He cursed the damn clock mentally and, to complete the tantrum of last night, he threw it at the wall. He let himself fall again over the pillow, trying to go back to sleep, but he thought that if he did not show up in the office without any explanation, somebody would come after him. The last thing Draco wanted was a person looking at the situation of his apartment now. So, fighting to control himself, Malfoy got out of bed and went to his desk, ready to scribble a note to Anne with an excuse and send it by owl. When he approached the table, however, he noticed something that was not there last night. Actually, it was something that had never been there before and should not be there now; a big envelope, white, with his name written in an unknown calligraphy. Somebody got inside his house while he was sleeping to put it there. Somehow, this thought made Draco's mind a little awake from the numbness it was. He couldn't allow that, could he? Nobody had the right of invading his apartment like that! The anger started to fill his chest again and, for the first time, it was a good thing, because if there was something capable of keeping him alive from that moment on; it was anger.

Decidedly, Malfoy grabbed the envelope and took it to his bed, opening it. Its content, however, showed to be a surprise. Draco did not know exactly what to expect. Maybe it was a letter threatening him. Maybe it was a vanglorious letter. Maybe... But definitely, he did not expect to see a map of a park called Gilwell Park. He did not know the place. Never heard of it, so, he deduced it was a muggle place. In the map, there was a place marked with a cruise. And there was a little note, saying: "Want to be sure I say the truth? Look for her in the park, in the marked place. The tree is a big oak. There isn't any like it around."

Trembling, Malfoy dropped the paper on the floor. He looked again at the map, staring at the cruise; the end of the walk, the finish mark. It was all about to be over. That was where he would find her.

His first impulse was to get up, get dressed, and look for the park immediately. When he had put on half of his clothes, though, he realized it was a stupid idea. It could be a trap. He had no idea of where the place was. How would he get in there? How would he take her out of the tree? Under all the aspects, his situation was not good. Especially now that the aurors were watching all of his steps. How could he get the resources needed? It was impossible. He could not do it alone.

Later, Draco put the fault of the decision he took on fatigue, on sadness, on desperation. And he regretted it, of course, but in that moment, he could not see another exit; finishing getting dressed, Malfoy took his wand and apparated right to Ronald Weasley's door. A little hesitant, he raised his hand and knocked lightly.

Without getting an immediate response, he repeated, this time more confidant. A few instants after, he heard the sound of the door being unlocked, and then, he saw Granger's figure holding a child on the opened door.

"Malfoy?!" she sort of asked, sort of exclaimed, the surprise evident on her face.

Draco would have enjoyed that if the situation was different, but in that moment, he was not feeling like having fun with other people's uncomforting.

"Good morning, Granger," he said without any malice. "We need to talk."

"Huh... Yes, sure. Come in," she said after a small pause, giving space for him to pass. Inside, Ron's voice could be heard.

"Mione, who is..." he started, but stopped as soon as he reached the room and saw the unexpected visitor. "What-do-you-want-here?" he asked with clenched teeth.

"Ron..."

"No, Mione. Don't start. I want to know what this bastard is doing in my house!"

"Weasley," Draco answered serious, "Believe me, I'm not happy with it at all, but at the moment, you're the only two who can help me. Just for the simple fact that I admit it, you can imagine how serious it is!"

"Is it serious? Or is it a trap? I can't imagine anything serious enough to make you swallow your pride and knock on our door!"

"Weasley, understand one thing about me: I'm a bastard. Even I recognize that, but what you don't know or what you don't want to believe is that I would be capable of selling my soul to the devil in person if he could tell me where your sister is," Draco answered without yelling, with an expression close to desperation in his face.

Maybe it was this image, the image of a Malfoy totally different from the one Ron was used to hate, that made him stay quiet. Would it be possible that he was saying the truth? Weasley had never asked himself that before.

"Do you have any clue?" Mione asked.

"Yes." Draco swallowed dry. "I have what possibly is the location of the..." His voice hesitated. "Body," he whispered. Granger made a face of shock and the blood seemed to vanish from Ron's face.

"How did you get it?" Mione asked.

"It's a long story."

"So, tell it."

"All right," Malfoy responded, sitting down without waiting for an invitation. He knew he would have to start from the start. He would omit only that it was Colin who gave the clue. It wouldn't be interesting that their pact became public.

"Just a minute. Ron, could you take John to the bedroom? The conversation might wake him."

"But, Mione, I want to listen too!"

"Then, Malfoy will wait till you come back! Hurry," she ordered, passing to her husband's arms a sleeping child.

The boy was around three, and was their first child. Draco observed the scene with a huge sadness. He closed his eyes and held his head with the hands, wishing he had a time-turner so that he could go back and do everything different. Hermione examined him carefully while they were in silence, but she did not interrupt him, and for that he was thankful.

As soon as the other came back to the room, they sat down, each one in a different sofa, and looked at Malfoy, waiting.

"So? Will you tell us the long story?" Ron asked impatient.

Draco opened his eyes and, ignoring the disrespectful tone of the other, started, "Well, everything started with the newspaper cut, the one I gave you..."

And he told them everything; told them about his visit to the place, about the body that was missing, and the coroner's conclusions. He told about the missing files; about Lindsey Morgan, Hannah Abbott and Emma Dobbs. He only omitted the hope of getting the original files through Matt. He did not want to compromise O'Brien's position. Finally, he told about the voice on the phone and about the conversation of last night. In many occasions he thought Weasley would not support to listen to him without interrupting. He saw the other almost jumping from his seat more than once, but somehow, he managed to control himself and stood quiet. When they heard about the phone calls, though, it was Granger who couldn't control herself.

"But how could you not notify anyone about it??? What an absurd idea! Malfoy, what were you thinking???"

"I didn't know he was the murderer!" he answered defensively.

"But even if he wasn't! We could've recorded the conversations! We could've used a calling identifier! We could've..."

"A what?"

"A calling identifier! It's used to discover the number of the person that called! And, with the number, we can find the address!"

"And how could I guess?" he asked, reluctant in admitting his error.

"You didn't have to guess! It was enough to ask for help!"

"Oh, Granger, please... I'm here only because the situation is desperating. Why would I come before?"

"But, Malfoy..."

"That still doesn't tell me how you know where my sister's body is," Weasley interrupted in a voice extremely controlled. He was trying his hard to keep his nerves under control.

"When I woke up this morning I found this." Draco threw on the coffee table the envelope he had brought, "on my desk."

Ron took it immediately.

"Gilwell Park... Do you know where it is, Mione?"

"Yes," she said changing her seat to see the map and the note. "We have to set up a team immediately."

"I know."

"Also, Malfoy, we have to set an anti-apparating field in your apartment and tap your phone immediately."

"Er... It will be a little difficult, Granger."

"Why?"

"My phone is broken."

"Broken?!"

"Yes, Weasley, broken. Stopped working. Wrecked."

"I know what broken is, Malfoy! I just want to know how! After all, it was working fine yesterday, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but since then there has been a little accident."

"Accident?"

"Yes. The wall shocked against it."

"What?!"

"I'm not interested in what happened, Malfoy. Just buy another phone! You'll need one. Now, let's go, Ron. You too, Malfoy. You're coming with us to the Ministry because we need your written statement. We just have to leave Johnny at his baby-sitter's first..."

"I'll go to the Ministry and wait for you there, Granger," Draco interrupted her, standing up. Really, he preferred to be spared of more family scenes. "See you soon," he completed, apparating before any of them could stop him.

*

The bureaucracy was driving Draco insane. Three hours had passed since he arrived at the Ministry and all that time was spent first with the preparations to his statement and then with his statement. Now that he had signed the official declaration, the aurors would start to set the team to go to the Gilwell Park. There was a lot to be done, and Malfoy knew he would have to wait.

So, going to the waiting room, where Granger wanted him to stay until everything was decided, he could barely hold a surprise exclamation.

"What are they doing here?" he asked when he saw through the glass the worried faces of almost all the Weasleys and Potters.

"What do you mean? They're her family too!" Hermione answered. Her husband had stood to organize the team. The least time he and Draco had to stay together, the better.

"But you had to call everybody?" Malfoy couldn't explain why he felt so bothered with that. Maybe all those presences made everything more real.

"Ron and I thought they had the right to know!"

"I'm not questioning that, Granger." He was starting to get angry. "I just think this story is a little precipitated! And if it's all just a false alarm?"

"Do you really believe that's possible, Malfoy?" Mione asked with a sad, but firm voice.

Draco did not answer. Neither could he enter in that room full of red heads that hated him and blamed him. He passed straight by the door and stood in the corridor, a little bit ahead, looking at the window without really seeing the view. He sincerely wanted to close his eyes and pretend it all wasn't more than a misunderstanding, that he hadn't heard those terrible things in the phone yesterday.

He supported his forehead and one of his hands on the cold glass and stood like that, silent and motionless, till losing track of the time. When he was finally interrupted, it was by the last voice he wanted to hear in that moment.

"Malfoy," Harry Potter called him, the indecision was evident in his voice.

"Go away," he answered weakly without turning.

"I need to talk to you." The other sounded a little more decided now.

"But I don't need to talk to you."

"Malfoy, believe me... There's something I need to tell you. Something I should've told before, but... for a reason or another, I ended always postponing."

"Whatever it is, I don't want to hear."

"It's about Ginny."

When Draco heard that, he laughed dryly.

"What isn't about her these days?"

"But this is different. It's about the night of her disappearing."

"You knew about something and didn't say anything?" He turned, finally paying attention. "What do you have in your head? Any information..."

"What I know wouldn't help in the investigation, Malfoy." Potter seemed reluctant in speaking. "But it can help in your life. And I know I should've said before, but I knew you wouldn't want to listen."

"I still don't."

"Well, so cover your ears, because I'm going to say. However imbecile I think you are, I have to tell you for the good of my conscience."

"Fuck your conscience." Malfoy turned to the window again, but was unable to block the other's abhorrent voice, though.

"That night, I was at the Burrow when Ginny arrived."

"I know that."

"What you don't know is that she told me why you argued."

"What?" Draco faced him, surprised.

"She told me everything."

"And you obviously thought I'm a monster."

"Of course yes."

"I know," Malfoy said, the sadness and the regret were clear in his voice. "I thought I was a monster too."

"But you changed your mind."

"Of course I did! What do you think that..."

"No, Malfoy, you didn't understand. That's exactly what Ginny said: that you would change your mind."

"What?"

"I thought you were a bastard, but she did not agree with me. She said she was there just waiting for you to go there and pick her up. She sad that's how you worked: whenever you heard something you didn't like or didn't expect you yelled and kicked out like a spoiled child and said the first thing that came to your mind, independent of how cruel it could be. And then, calmly, you would think again and regret. She wasn't angry with you, Malfoy. She wasn't even sad." Draco stared the floor for a while digesting what Potter had just said. That did not change anything. Everything was still his fault. "I asked her," Harry continued, "if it wasn't a horrible way to live, and you know what she said to me?"

"Obviously not."

"She said she loved you. That was the only answer she gave me."

"It doesn't change anything." Draco stared at him with an empty look. "Everything is still my fault." He turned again to the window.

"If you want to think that way, Malfoy, the problem is yours. I did my part. Don't expect me to stay here trying to convince you," he completed going back to the waiting room, but the other's voice interrupted him.

"You never understood, did you?"

"Never understood what?"

"Why she chose me and not you."

"It took awhile, Malfoy, but I understand it now."

"So explain me."

"It's not needed much to understand. When she disappeared, I... I still liked her, you know that."

"I know." Malfoy shut his wrists, controlling the anger.

"But now, ten years later, I have a family. I have a wife and a daughter." He made a brief pause. "I moved on with my life, but you... You still love her, don't you?"

"There's no life without her."

"Funny."

"What?"

"Those were the exact words Ginny used that night to talk about you."

And with that, Potter turned to enter the waiting room, where the other Weasleys were.

Draco stood still, in front of the window for a while. His mind was working fast. Right when he thought he was ready to explode, Granger came and called him.

"Let's go, Malfoy," she simply said and, with a heavy heart, he followed her. When they found Weasley, though, he looked at them with an ugly face, and said to Mione:

"I still think his place is not with us!"

"The only way for you to stop me is killing me, Weasley."

"That's a tempting offer, you know?"

"Feel free to try."

"Ron, Malfoy, we've already talked about it," Hermione said with a tired voice, a voice of who was tired of all that implication. And then, driving herself to her husband, "He knows he's here just as a watcher, don't you, Malfoy? Nothing of putting your nose on our procedures, nothing of getting involved. You'll go just to watch."

"There's no need to explain again, Granger. I got it the first time you said," Draco replied annoyed.

He'd say anything to go on that team. Once he was in the field, though, he couldn't promise anything. He still had no idea of how he would react seeing her dead body.

"You'd better," Weasley still answered back, clearly distrustful. "It's time to go."

They had managed to get a muggle warrant to close the park. First, they would have to remove any and every person who could be there, so that they could work freely. Thinking in the lightning that was needed to destroy the first tree, Draco could not avoid asking himself what kind of magic would be necessary to break the trunk of that second one. He did not want to think about it. He left all of the practical details to the aurors.

After a part of the agents went ahead of the group to assure there were no muggles around, a second group could apparate right in the park, with no fear of been seen. Draco was in this group. His first impression about the place was that it was a nice place, all green and tranquil. It was almost an oasis. Before he could make any more ideas, though, one of the aurors approached.

"We've already identified the spot marked on the map."

"Where is it?" Hermione asked anxious.

"It's inside the forest. You'll have to follow me," he completed pointing with the head at the entrance of a track that apparently went deep inside the trees.

"Yes, you lead the way," Mione responded and a group of people followed him.

The others stayed to watch the park.

They did not have to walk much, though. Just around five minutes of walking through the small forest and they stopped at what seemed like a huddle of aurors. They were all around a big and solid oak, the only one around that appeared exactly like the note said. Draco felt his stomach churn. While Granger and the others approached, he noticed his feet did not move. Now that he was there, he asked himself why he wanted so much to come. He felt a big knot in his throat. His heart seemed to be shrunken. It was there, the end of the line. The end of everything. The place where he would get the final answer.

Suddenly, Malfoy wished he could be anywhere else in the world. Any place far enough that would take a while for him to get the news. He did not want to know. He wanted to keep on living in the ignorance, looking for her in every redhead he saw in the streets, because at least he would have a reason to live. If she were dead, what would he do? What was left to be done? If he was feeling empty now, how would he feel when he realizes there's no hope?

Turning his back to the oak, Draco tried to think of the time he did not love her, did not know her. She was just another Weasley at that time. An annoying and inferior Weasley who loved Potter just like her brothers. A Gryffindor who thought she was better than everybody. A muggle lover. When did he change his mind? It was hard to say. It was almost impossible to say in which moment she called his attention for the first time. The only thing he knew was that, from that moment on, he was fated to love her. Maybe she had become interesting to him when he found out that Potter wanted her. Maybe this was the reason that made him look at her with covetousness for the first time. If it was, though, it was nothing more than a decoy, because she did not need anything more than her smile to catch a boy's attention.

Ginny Weasley walked carrying on her look the promises of everything Draco never had, and that's what made her completely irresistible. She was annoying and clumsy. She drove him crazy most of the times, but every time - no exceptions - that he let himself get lost in her eyes, Ginny had the amazing capacity of making him believe that everything would end up fine. Draco wished he could see the world as she did. He tried, but he could not. She was his only link to this vision, and without her, he was just that spoiled boy from Hogwarts. It was her who made him special.

Closing his eyes, Malfoy supported his back on one of the trees around and stood in silence, waiting. He did not want to get involved. He did not know if he would be able to talk more than a couple of words with someone in that moment without collapsing. He had started to ask himself something he always tried to avoid; the question in the tip of his tongue since that early morning, ten years ago. He knew he could live without Ginny. The question was: did he want to live without her? Would it be worth it? He knew what she would answer if she were there, which wish would come out of her lips, but who cares? She would also ask him to stop smoking and he did not stop. Actually, there was just one request that Ginny made and he did it, with no restrictions. In that sad afternoon of August, though, supported on that tree, waiting in silence for the veredict about his life, he honestly wished that number were higher.

The hours passed and he avoided looking at the direction of the oak. His legs were tired, but Malfoy refused to sit down on the ground, and, anyway, that fatigue was nothing compared to his mental and emotional exhaustion. It was already dark and he had already took his wand and muttered "Lumus" for a few minutes when he finally heard what seemed to be an exclamation of satisfaction coming from the aurors. His heart jumped. The knot in his throat suddenly became tighter and he felt like throwing up.

Unconsciously, his feet started to move toward the group. He could feel his heartbeats accelerating every instant. It was now; the time of truth had come. At every step, it was harder to move on, but it was also more impossible to go back. He knew. He knew, in his soul, that he could not ignore that happening. All his life was on "stand-by" until the moment he would look at the body of that woman in the tree.

Against all the evidences, Draco silently wished that she was not Ginny. He could see Weasley knelt close to the body and Granger standing up beside him. Both were quiet, their faces were impenetrable. Or so, at least, they looked to Draco, who tried every possible way not to read anything negative on them. Finally, he got close enough to see the woman's silhouette. She was lying in the ground, and, around her, the same grey sand that had slid from inside the trunk surrounded her. He approached, holding his breath, and then looked at her.

He saw her young traces parched and contorted, her skin covered by the sand. He felt the almost unbearable smelling of the body, and startled when he noticed her eyes were opened, glassy, lifeless. There was sand on them too, and it was impossible to recognize their color. Actually it would be almost impossible to identify the woman like that, naked and dirty. Only one thing was enough to make him release his breath, finally, relieved; she had blonde hair. The woman had blonde hair! Never, in his entire life, Draco Malfoy felt so happy for marrying a Weasley.

Incapable of putting in words all the emotions that passed through his body in that moment, he turned, departing from the body, and supported himself on the first tree he found. He did not trust his legs that moment. Actually, he trusted neither in his legs, his voice, his ratiocination. The only thing he knew for sure was that it was not her. It was not Ginny. Even though it was practically impossible and weak, there was still a possibility of her not being in a tree like that in the United Kingdom, and it was this hope that gave him straight.

Draco closed his eyes, letting himself breath, relieved. The big weight, that was on his heart since the phone call from last night, had finally been lifted.

*

"What was that?" Ronald Weasley asked as soon as they got back to the Ministry and they were finally alone in a room. "What's your point, Malfoy?"

"What?" Draco asked, not understanding what the other meant. They were still thankful for finding out that the body wasn't Ginny's.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

"Actually, no, I don't know."

"You made us believe that that was my sister's body! I called the entire family here because I believed you, you damned!"

"I believed that that was Ginny's body too! And about calling the family, it was your idea!"

"It doesn't change the fact that it all was useless! The body wasn't hers!"

"And you preferred it to be?" Draco asked, starting to get furious.

"Of course not! And of course I'm relieved it wasn't her. The point is that you took us there, and you were mistaken, weren't you?"

"What are you trying to say? That I knew it wasn't her? That I only took you there for some dodgy and macabre purpose?"

"Exactly."

"Ron..." Granger started in a warning voice, but it wasn't enough.

"No, Hermione, I'm tired of you defending him! You know he's a bastard!" And turning to the Malfoy, "You're nothing more than a bastard, Malfoy! An imbecile bastard and only God knows why my sister chose to marry you! But nothing can take out of my head the idea that you have something to do with this whole story!"

"I don't have," Draco answered sincerely.

"And why would I believe in you?"

"Fuck what you believe in. I don't give a shit. But, as most incredible as it might seem --even I have difficulties in believing-- I told the truth to both of you this morning!"

"And I still think you're lying. What could assure us that you really gave up the dark arts, huh? Nothing!"

"Do you think your sister would marry me if I hadn't given up?"

"My sister has a long story of being fooled by dark wizards."

"If you say so," Draco said with contempt in his voice, "than you don't really know her." And he turned his back to him, ready to leave, but he was interrupted by Weasley's voice.

"What could be more perfect to you, huh, Malfoy? After You-Know-Who was defeated, your father was dead and your mother arrested and in Azkaban. Your house set aflame. You lost everything. What would be more perfect than marrying to the daughter of a well-wanted family in the wizarding world and wait... Wait until the appropriate hour arrived so that you could show your real face? What could be more perfect?"

"Weasley." Draco turned to him again. "Of all the requests your sister made me, there was only one that I attempted exactly because she made clear that if I didn't, she would abandon me. Your sister asked me to give up all and every contact I had with the dark arts, including books, people and charms. And I did it. I really didn't intend to give up all the fortune that the Ministry confiscated, but about the rest, I abandoned everything, for her."

"You're lying."

"Believe in what you want to, Weasley."

"It's not a matter of believing, Malfoy. I can proof you're lying."

"How?"

"Your mother. You correspond with her."

"Yes, she does write me regularly. She does it since before my marriage, but I never read any of her letters! I always burn them!"

"Another lie!"

"Weasley, this is really starting to tire me..."

"Yes, it's a lie. And want to know how I know? The mail of Azkaban is controlled. We can't read what the letters say, but we register the senders and the recipients, and you, Malfoy, you've been writing to your dear mom at least once a week for ten years. Exactly the time Ginny's missing... " Draco was dazed with the news. That couldn't be possible, could it? He never wrote to Narcissa! He looked at Granger for some confirmation.

"It's true, Malfoy. We have the records," she muttered.

"But I never... " he started, but then he remembered something that made him stop; he remembered the insistence of the man in the phone for him to pay attention to what his mother was saying. Would it be possible that...? "My God..." he whispered, a weak voice. "My God!... " And left the room without giving any explanations.

That was too important to be disconsidered... Too important. Would it be possible that Narcissa was involved in all that? That she knew what had happened to Ginny and the other women?

Draco's mind was working fast. For what he knew of his mother, he did not doubt that she would know everything. That she would have even helped planning the crimes. Why did the news that someone was corresponding with his mother under his name surprised him so much? It was the perfect disguise! And, if something suspicious was found, he - the son who abandoned her - would be the responsible. He was the perfect sitting duck.

Without stopping home to change clothes or doing anything else, Draco went right to the Department of Magic Transportation. He had to go to Azkaban. He was not interested if the visiting time was over. He was not even interested in knowing if Narcissa could receive visitors. Everything he knew was that he needed to talk to her and he would, even if he had to stay yelling at that prison till someone let him in. He would do anything.