Lost And Found

THE INTERROGATION

Draco was seated in a dark, solitary cell.

After he was arrested, the Aurors brought him there directly. He was well aware of that part of the Auror department. This was the place where the most dangerous and dark wizards were kept after being arrested, before interrogation.

He was sitting on the floor. The room was so dark that it was hard to make out any features of the room except that it had stone walls covered with moss. The air was damp and smelly. He lost count of time there. Sometimes it seemed a few hours, sometimes days or at some moments it felt like months. At those moments, Draco shook his head, took deep breaths and tried to keep his mind reasonable.

In the solitary hours inside the cell, he tried to figure out who was plotting against him. But from over hundreds of enemies he could not definitely point out one or a group.

Sometimes his thoughts roamed to his family, especially to his wife. His children were most probably safe with the Potters. Although it sounded quite unbelievable to himself, he was sure Harry Potter would take care of the Malfoy children as his own. He was concerned about Hermione. He was sure that in his absence Harry must have tried to take her to his (Harry's) home. But he was equally sure that Hermione refused that offer. He was worried about her safety. He was worried about her state of mind, because there was a chance that she might actually believe that he had something to do with the dark object. Speaking of the dark object, he didn't even know what it was. All he could make out before the Aurors seized it, was that it was a small circular container that can be easily held in one's palm, made of gold. There were geometric patterns sculpted on it around the centre, where the design of a human skull gave an eery feeling every time anyone would look at it. The container exhibited signs of dark magic placed on it, most probably magic to keep secured whatever was inside. So the material within it was of real value. But what was it? It must be highly dangerous, so dangerous to procure a signature from the Minister for special search warrant.

His thoughts were halted when he heard footsteps fast approaching his cell. The door of his cell was opened and a bowl was passed to him. In the darkness it was impossible to make out what exactly it was, but it was food, semi solid and warm enough.

Draco was not a fool. Although his whole body and soul wanted to just sit there, without touching whatever excuse of food was served to the captives, he knew it would be a behaviour suitable for a petulant child, not for a grown up who had survived through war and saw plenty numbers of captives in the dungeons of his own house.

So, without wasting another moment, he forcefully fed himself a spoonful of the tasteless broth, then another spoonful, then another. Soon, the bowl was finished. He didn't realise how hungry he actually was. Again, he thought of Hermione. Had she eaten anything? She had this really bad habit of forgetting or sometimes blatantly ignoring to eat when she was under pressure. It was Draco who would force her to have some morsels of food from time to time.

Sighing, he laid his back against the wall and stretched his legs in front. He didn't have any more energy left to think of anything. And it was rather futile to stay awake in that empty room full of solitude when his brain totally stopped working. It would be best to try to get some rest. They wouldn't leave him there indefinitely. Most probably the next morning they would start the interrogation. Or, maybe they would leave him there for enough time expecting to break him psychologically, then they would start the interrogation.

In either case, he needed to store his strength and sanity. For that he needed a good night's sleep.

He let his mind and body relax as much as possible in the given circumstances, closed his eyes, took deep breaths in and out (a Muggle relaxing technic he learnt from Mrs Granger) and in no time he lost himself in a much needed slumber.