Azkaban - 8

Sirius spent twelve years locked up here, probably on this level.

Harry shook his head. This wasn't the time to dwell on that. Malfoy stopped walking and placed his hand on a silver disk located outside the cell. The disk flashed green, indicating it was safe to enter. There were no doors or bars to hold the prisoners but instead a ward ensured they were kept inside. Tonks had said the ward would allow them inside the cell, but they would be unable to leave until they again passed their hands over the disk. If Lucius attempted an escape, they would all be trapped within the wards.

Harry hadn't bothered to ask exactly what that meant. He didn't think he really wanted to know.

He followed Draco inside the cell, and it was a moment before he noticed Lucius sitting on the edge of his bed. He'd obviously been sleeping as his eyes were crusted, and he squinted at his son as if trying to process the fact he was there. Lucius was thinner than Harry remembered. His long blonde hair was matted and dirty, and he'd lost that haughty aristocratic demeanor that he'd always shown. He looked haunted. Harry couldn't imagine trying to live for years under these conditions. It was a wonder anyone left Azkaban with his mind still intact.

"Father?" Malfoy asked tentatively. His voice shook slightly as his eyes roamed over his father's broken form.

"Draco? What are you doing here?" Lucius asked. His voice was raspy from lack of use. "Everyone has been looking for you. Is your mother with you?"

"She's safe, Father. She doesn't even know I'm here," Draco replied, swallowing heavily. "How are you?"

Lucius Malfoy shook his head as if to clear it. That ugly sneer that Harry remembered so well returned to his features. "What have you done, Draco? Have you made a bargain with the blood traitors? Where is your pride? I'm so disappointed in you."

"Father, listen to me. I can help you. When you're released from here, you can come into hiding with us," Draco said, a pleading quality to his voice that Harry found painful. He knew from years of experience that Draco's pleas would fall on deaf ears.

"A real Malfoy would never crawl on his belly with the slime and dregs of society," Lucius spat, seething now. "I thought I'd raised you to know that. This is your mother's influence, isn't it?"

"Father, the Dark Lord will kill you when you're released if you don't do something to ensure your own survival," Draco cried.

"Then I will die with honor, as you should have done," Lucius replied.

"Father–"

"No, Draco. You can still salvage this," Lucius said, moving closer to his son. His eyes began to shine with a demented light. "Go back to the Dark Lord. Kneel before him and beg his forgiveness. Prove your loyalty to him by killing those who have given you aid. It might convince him to grant you some leniency."

Draco threw his head back and snorted derisively "There is nothing lenient about him; you know that. He'll have me beg and then kill me anyway."

"Then you should die," Lucius replied.

Draco blinked, clearly stunned. "Father, I'm your only son."

"No son of mine would dishonor the Malfoy name in this way," Lucius said, sneering. "I knew after we had you that you were a weakness to your mother's loyalty. She'd do anything for you, to save you. She's thrown away her own future to protect yours. It's why we never had another child. I knew she was weak, but you… You, I thought had learned your proper place."