Sad at the beginning kinda, if you haven't read the 6th book, you shouldn't read this.
Im going to become addicted to writing on here if I don't stop. Oh well who cares? Spot
Dark.
Cold.
Empty.
Hopeless.
Azkaban. One word to sum up a thousand.
He could understand why the Dementors loved the place. It was just what they liked. To be surrounded by people who had done so many terrible things, sucking the happiness out of them. He had been there for the past 6 years.
So much pain. So much anger. All the good feelings and memories, Gone.
Noone left to care, noone to live for. His father, dead. Mother, dead. His family, shattered.
He was the last of his bloodline. No brothers or sisters to carry on the family pride.
He detested it. His "pure blood" it made him sick to think that the thing his family treasured the most, was the reason for their destruction.
Toujours pur. Always Pure. His mother had drilled her old family motto into his head ever since he was a child. Raised him to believe he was practically royalty.
His father believed the same. They were like the lords, muggles and mudbloods were like dogs to his father, he detested those who even associated with muggles.
That's why he joined the dark lord, his father and his father's father had all been in service to him.
It was expected of him. He used to believe all the bullshit his parents fed him about "pure blood" he used to think he was better than everyone because of it.
Not anymore. He was in the real world now.
In his 6th year, when the Dark Lord had assigned him to kill Dumbledore, all he could think about was pleasing his new master. But by the end of the year, he had grown doubts, and he wondered why he should serve another so blindly, but the task was achieved, although not by him. He had gone through much pain and torture because of his blunder, but he survived.
Once he was free of his obligation of school, his thoughts began to wander, theories and many things that Dumbledore had offered and told him before he died, had begun to nag at him.
And he began to think, "what if.."
What if he had taken up the old man's offer before the others had come? Would it be any better than now?
And with these thoughts brewing in his mind, by the time he was 18, he had made a decision. He was going to betray the Dark Lord. He was well enough in Occlumency to hide his betrayal.
So he went to the only person he knew, who would give him a chance, who wouldn't kill him on sight.
He went to Hermione Granger.
Amazingly enough, She listened. She promised to meet him again. And by their third meeting, he was giving her inside information on the Dark Lord and his plans.
And he was never suspected.
For nearly a year he passed information to her, he grew fond of her, and all his thoughts of pure blood flew out the door.
He even began to feel for her, to love her. And soon enough, their meetings became nights of passion, and need.
So when he was ordered to kill her, he knew he couldn't.
They staged her death, it was everywhere in the papers, and she went into hiding.
He continued to pass information to her, and steadily, the Dark Lord lost his followers, random killings here and there, raids, until finally, he was defeated.
When Harry Potter fulfilled the prophecy.
His world came crashing down. He was caught and tried as a death eater. There was noone to defend him. She could not yet come out of hiding. And she had not told her friends where she got her information from. So he was sentenced to life in Azkaban.
His mind had deteriorated by the second year. But he still held strong to the hope that she would come, that she would argue with the courts, and free him.
He became insane, and violent, slitting his wrists with his teeth, writing bloody messages on the wall.
His once handsome, clean face was filthy, his hair long and matted, his once beautiful eyes were blank and empty. Every time he went near a Dementor his hope seemed to fail him, and he knew he was doomed. But when he was away from them, he continued to hope, to believe. She had promised, told him that she wouldn't let them take him away. And that she would fight tooth and nail, just to be with him again. They never said "I love you" but they both knew.
He had been in 4 years when he heard whispering among the human guards, She had finally made an appearance. She had informed the Ministry of his help in the war, and she demanded his release. They refused.
A year later, he began receiving strange messages, a slip of paper hidden with his meals, between his bed sheets, they all had the same message, Don't give up, and he knew, she was going to save him.
And with this thought, he slowly regained his sanity.
Late one night, when he was preparing to sleep, he heard a meowing noise, it was very uncommon for any animals to come into the prison. So he looked around and saw the cat sitting outside his cell. It was holding a ring of keys in its mouth.
By it's squashed face, bottlebrush tail and ginger fur he knew it to be Her cat.
She was here.
And soon enough, he saw a shadowy form approach his cell.
Hermione reached down and took the keys from the cat, patting it on the head.
He got up and moved towards the door as she unlocked it. He couldn't speak. She was here! She had saved him. His gaunt, hollow face seemed to be lit from within.
She made a quick gesture for him to follow her. And he did, she led him right out the front gates, there wasn't a Dementor or guard in sight.
Once they were well away from the prison, she turned to him and pulled down her hood.
She was just as he remembered, though lines of stress and worry now marred her face.
She took his face in her hands, and stroked his cheek as tears ran down her face. "I missed you." she said, "I wanted to come and get you out of here as soon as I heard, but Harry and Ron made me wait, saying it was too dangerous, but I couldn't wait any longer, I had to see you again."
"I never gave up on you" he croaked back "I knew you would save me."
Less than an hour later they were in London inside her apartment. She had bought him new robes and some muggle clothes, though they were a little too big. She made him shower and cut his hair short so he could comb it.
The cat, Crookshanks, was given a grateful petting for helping him escape.
By the end of the night he looked more like the man he was before Azkaban.
She was standing on the balcony, leaning against the rail, watching the sun rise when he joined her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, savoring her scent, and the feel of her skin.
She turned to him and kissed him, her lips tenderly grazing his. He returned the kiss and deepened it, filled with passion and longing. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth, their tongues touched and caressed, exploring each others mouths once more.
She led him back into the apartment and into her bedroom, where they undressed and climbed into the bed together. They both just lay there in each others arms for a minute, glad to be free, glad to be together.
He looked into her eyes and brushed his lips across hers. His hands explored her body, taking in every curve, it had been so long, too long since he could touch her and hold her, and finally he could.
She was in heaven as he trailed kisses down her neck and collarbone, her hands caressed his once muscular chest, she could easily count his ribs now. It pained her to see him so malnourished, but she lost herself in the moment and wiped the horrible images from her mind.
They made love, again and again until they were both exhausted. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, taking comfort in her warmth. It was day, and yet they were only just now going to sleep.
"I love you Hermione" he whispered, as he fell deeper into dreamland. He only just heard her whispered reply of "I love you too Draco" before he slipped away.
End.
Very sappy I know but I was bored. Review. Spot