A Time of Changes and Decisions

Azkaban was cold and dark, the only light filtering in from the barred window of his cell. He could tell it was the fading light of evening, although he had only just woken up. This was how it had been since he had been brought to the Prison of the most dangerous Witches and Wizards.



A guard came by, unlocked the door, and gestured to the young man to stand and follow him, though he knew the youth wouldn’t. It had been months since the blond had willingly left the cell that he had been assigned. When first he came, he had been eager for the chance to leave for even a few moments. And the days he was taken to shower were among his favorites.



This time, his dull grey eyes met the guards curious brown ones, and he turned away to face the wall. The brown eyed man shook his head, waved his wand at the other man, and closed the cell door again. He moved on to the next prisoner.



Draco felt the tingle of a cleaning spell moving over his body. He appreciated it, for he knew it was the only safe way for him to get clean now. The last time he had gone to the shower rooms, months ago, he had been viciously accosted. Beaten and nearly raped by several Death Eaters that had somehow learned of his time with Harry Potter.



He had nearly lost the child he carried, though the healers at Azkaban did little to help him. He was there to be punished, and many believed he should be there no matter what. So what if he was a pregnant Veela? If nobody said anything about it to people who it would matter to, then all would be as it should be.



The guard was at least understanding enough not to drag Draco out of the cell and back into the same danger. The blond placed his hand over the growing bulge of his child and sighed. It continued to grow, though his body was weakening from lack of food. Soon he wouldn’t be able to stand up at all. The rations given to prisoners at Azkaban were small anyhow, and were far too little for the sustaining of his body and a growing child. He counted himself lucky though, that the period of his morning sickness had ended for the most part. The more food he kept in, the better.



Harry Potter had yet to come. Draco wondered if Hermione had forgotten her promise to him. He had not heard from her, or anyone else who could have saved him since the day he fell asleep on Harry’s bed in Hogwarts. When he had asked his guard, the friendly one, what had become of Fred and George Weasley, he was told they had disappeared together after the scandal they had brought upon themselves by having a child together. It had apparently been all over the papers that the founders of such a successful company were faggots together. They had suffered a huge loss when their shop had been blown up, and not even Harry Potter, who was rumored to be training to be the next Minister of Magic, could stop the hatred of the people against the unnaturalness of their union.



Draco sighed and forced himself up off the cot that was his bed to use the small, dirty toilet nearby. His morning sickness may have been a thing of the past, but the pressure on his bladder was increasing.