A/N: Not my usual thing here. Written especially for the lovely Shuna, she wanted a dark fic, but this is the best I could do. Happy Birthday Shuna!

Special thanks to KaraSays for beta reading this, I really appreciate the help, love.


Harry stretched his sore muscles; he loved being an Auror, but some days he wished he would've taken that Seeker position he was offered on England's team, it would've been less painful. They never seemed to have a short supply of dark wizards to catch. The latest witch to go bad took them nearly three months to capture, and put up one hell of a fight when they did. He had been hit with a rather well performed Cruciatus curse, resulting in some pretty achy muscles this morning.

Rolling out of bed, he padded heavily to the bathroom; he managed a quick shower before the owl arrived at his bathroom window. He took the parchment with a sigh, it was his new assignment. He had hoped to get a few days of rest before he began the whole process again.

Opening it, he was relieved that he'd been given a simple task. He would be an escort to those lucky enough or influential enough, to obtain visits with loved ones locked away inside Azkaban prison. It was an easy job, if not pleasant.

An hour later, Harry reported to duty at the prison. Even with no dementors to guard it, it was still a dreadful place that held no ounce of happiness, and never a ray of sunshine.

"Hello Harry," the gate guard greeted.

"Morning." He walked edgily into the castle, never forgetting that he was responsible for many of the prison's current occupants. He got the list of visitors and times from a stern faced guard at the front desk.

Glancing down it, he was not pleased to note that Narcissa Malfoy would be there in a few hours. Even though she had very much been in the thick of things during the war, the Wizengamot had decided to go easy on both her and Draco.

And, while Harry was far from forgiving them, the elder Malfoy's had earned a bit of his grudging respect when they chose to rescue their son instead of fight with Voldemort. He had also been surprised when they were honest at their trials, Lucius cooperating with the understanding that his wife and child would walk away with a slap on the wrist.

"Good morning," a brisk woman greeted him, eyes widening when she saw the scar.

"Morning, Mrs.…Puddlemore." Harry led the upper class witch to her husband's cell. He stood quietly in the corner for the entire thirty minutes she was allowed. Although Mr. Puddlemore was only in for minor offenses and would be out in a matter of weeks, Harry kept a close and careful eye on the man; one could never be sure.

Several hours later, he stood awaiting Mrs. Malfoy. It was her blonde hair he saw first, then the ugliest coat he had ever seen, worse even than Hagrid's. She strutted in, nose in the air, careful not to touch anything. Her scathing blue eyes landed on him and she sneered.

"Potter," she said distastefully, "What's this? No camera crew? I know it's rare for you to go anywhere without them. I should have expected, as the Minister's pet, he would have granted your cameras access, despite such an…exclusive location. Or have you, at last, fallen out of his favor?"

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said, keeping his voice as neutral as possible, "I assure you-"

"Enough of this," she spoke over him, raising an authorative hand. "Take me to my husband," she commanded.

Gritting his teeth, Harry led her down the spiral staircase to the lowest level, containing those prisoners given life sentences. The chill and desperation of that level always reminded him of the long-departed dementors. He stopped at the last cell on the right and opened it with a flick of his wand.

The nearby guards watched nervously as he entered the cage, followed by Mrs. Malfoy.

"Lucius," she purred, cupping his cheek with a dainty, gloved hand.

"Narcissa, how I've missed you." He moved as it to hold her, but she pulled back and eyed the single chair available. With a look of utter distaste, she sat regally upon the very edge. Malfoy's eyes flickered to Harry standing, wand at the ready, in the corner. "Where have you been? It's been months, since I've seen you."

She sighed loudly, as if his question annoyed her. "I have been getting our affairs in order. Draco will be a father very soon; it's time we took care of things. Don't you agree?"

"What sort of affairs are we discussing?" He looked suspicious, but reached out to hold her hand.

"It's time I've moved on." She dropped his hand, producing papers from one of her pockets.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lucius scoffed. "You can't possibly expect me to grant you a divorce." His tone was polite and casual, but his eyes had turned hard as they took in the papers she held out to him.

"I do." She paused, her polished mask fading momentarily. "Lucius, you must. Do you want to see me old and alone?"

"Of course not, but-"

"Then do this for me. Just think; what will people say about our grandson, if we don't sever ties with you?"

Harry felt uncomfortable in the silence, but kept his eyes dutifully upon the wizard. Malfoy's mouth twitched as he considered his wife.

"You don't have to consent, husband; I already have Madame Longbottom's approval. I thought it would be less messy this way." She gestured with the papers.

"Narcissa," he whispered, taking her free hand. His brow wrinkled as he stared at their joined fingers. "This is what you want?"

Her lip trembled, but Lucius didn't see it. "Yes."

"When have I ever denied you what you desire?" He kissed her knuckles before slipping the divorce papers from her fingers and signing them with the quill stuck to the corner. He passed them back with a great nonchalance, although his hand betrayed him by shaking. "Goodbye my love."

"Lucius," the witch's voice broke, "know that I love you." She stood to leave, her back to her former husband, and slipped the gaudy rings from her finger.

"And I, you."

They left the cell, but Harry glanced over his shoulder to see the thinning many bury his face in his hands, his once glorious hair, cut short and sticking out at odd angles. It irritated Harry to feel sympathy for the wizard who had proven time and again that he was not a good man.

He walked Mrs. Malfoy to the exit, waiting for her parting bite.

"…I wonder," she began softly, "if you would look in on him from time to time? The next few months are going to be difficult." Without waiting for a reply, she strutted through the door, as if she were merely taking a stroll in the park.

Harry watched her go, speechless. Why on Earth would he watch over Lucius Malfoy? He imagined the man alone in his cell, health fading, with a family powerful enough to obtain visits with him, but just not caring enough to actually do it. And he sighed, knowing he would feel compelled to honor the request.

As the day went on, he remembered how he had grown to hate this duty the last time he was assigned to it. It was depressing to watch so many people cry and grieve before being separated after thirty short minutes.

Later that afternoon, Harry went home emotionally exhausted. He sat alone in his little flat, wishing once again, that he had someone to come home to, like Ron and Hermione.

The next week passed in a blur, one crying woman looked much the same as the next. He went to work thinking about the man he had seen at the pub two nights before.

Draco had been celebrating the birth of his first child. He was surrounded by jovial friends and family and for the first time, Harry felt envious of him. Then he caught part of a nearby conversation, it was a double celebration. Narcissa had married a wealthy pure blood from France.

As the woman smiled and danced with her new husband, she caught Harry's eye. He didn't see an ounce of regret in her sparkling eyes. The man wrung Draco's hand and thumped him paternally on the back. Lucius had thoroughly been replaced.

As much as he disliked the elder Malfoy, it made him a little sick to see the way his family chose to spend the freedom he had bought them with his own life. He was a despicable man, but there was no doubting his love of his wife and son.

"Morning Harry," the gate guard greeted.

"Morning Dean."

He had a short list of visitors that day, none in the lower levels. And yet, after lunch, Harry found himself on the lowest floor. Not sure what to say or do, he made his way to Malfoy's cell.

Lucius lay on the small cot, arm resting across his face. Harry watched him silently, not missing the clippings torn from the Daily Prophet lying on the floor. So, he knew; he was a grandfather and Narcissa was happily remarried, already.

"What can I do for you?" His polite voice held only a hint of sarcasm.

"Nothing." Harry felt stupid for being there.

Malfoy sighed and sat up straight. His eyes locked on Harry. "Are you here for a purpose? Or do you just want to gawk?"

"I-I-"

"You, you, what? Spit it out, Potter. I haven't got all day."

He gritted his teeth. "Never mind." He turned to leave.

"That's right, Potter. Scamper off. Go congratulate yourself on all of the lives you've ruined."

"I didn't ruin anyone's lives!" He stopped and closed his eyes to calm himself. Opening them, he found a smirking Lucius standing at the bars. "You destroyed your own lives, I merely caught you at it."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" He shook his head. "Yes, I suppose that would help you sleep at night." He paused with a faux sympathetic look. "All alone, or so I hear."

Harry locked his jaw to control his anger. "Guess who I ran into at the pub? Draco was there celebrating his son's birth." Lucius went rigid and his face emptied of all visible emotion. "The proud grandparents were there, as well. Narcissa and her new husband seemed quite happy; but I suppose that's to be expected with the birth of their first grandchild."

Malfoy's hands gripped the bars so tightly, his knuckles were white. "Are you trying to wound me? You'll recall I granted the divorce. And my son's happiness could never bring me displeasure. No, you'll have to do much better than that, if you want to cause me pain."

Harry sighed at Malfoy's casual manners. "That's not why I came here."

"Then do tell, why did you come to see me?"

"I…was curious, how you were handling it all. But I can see you're fine, so I'll be going."

"You're a terrible liar, Potter. Were you hoping I'd give you a reason to use your wand?"

"No!"

"You must be getting bored, wandering this place, witnessing the aftermath of your other…duties."

"Listen up, Malfoy. Your wife asked that I check on you. She seemed to think that you cared enough, that hearing of her new marriage would hurt you. Obviously, she was mistaken."

"Don't presume to understand me." He released the bars and dropped heavily onto his cot.

"Look, I don't know what she expected me to say or do, but-"

"She really asked you that?" His voice was softer than Harry had ever heard it.

"Well, it was more of a command really."

Lucius grinned slightly and laid back on his cot. Without another word, Harry left him with his thoughts, besides he had to get back to the entrance to escort more visitors.

It was late one night, seven months later, when Harry finally got word on his new assignment. Relief filled him that tomorrow would be his last day at Azkaban.

"What is it?" Ron asked from the couch, his arm around his wife.

"I've been re-assigned. They're investigating a wizard named Armand and they need some more Aurors on it."

Hermione sighed and laid her hand on Ron's thigh. "That means we're never going to see you anymore."

"Give the bloke a break, it's his job."

"I know that Ron. I just want Harry to be happy."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" She paused to give him a dirty look. Then looked a little sheepishly at Harry. "I arranged a date for tomorrow night."

"Oh, Hermione," Ron and Harry both groaned.

"Well, you'll have to cancel it. I don't know how late I'll be."

"But you always seem so lonely."

"I'm fine. Honest." He eyed her carefully. "Besides, I sort of already have a thing for somebody."

"Ooooh, who?" She leaned forward, excited.

"Just this…girl, I sort of work with."

"But if you're switching assignments…"

"Yeah, I know. But, I'll make time to go see her."

Harry wasn't sure when he began to feel something other than pity for Lucius. And it was made even more confusing because he was, in fact, a man. He'd never been attracted to men before and he still didn't think of any others that way. It wasn't even physical; it was deeper, more obscure. And entirely unmentionable.

He said goodnight several hours later and went straight to bed. He had a full list the next day and so he wanted to get there early to see Lucius.

"Good morning," the gate guard greeted with a yawn.

Harry nodded to the man, grabbed his list and headed straight down, to the lowest level. In the cell at the end, Lucius was shaving, muggle style. Harry grinned as he watched the shirtless man grumble about the task.

"What are you laughing about, Potter?"

"There's something justifying about watching Death Eaters do thing the muggle way."

"Watch yourself," he growled, not sounding even a little threatening.

"Or what? You'll shave me?"

"I will shave every last hair from your body, so that you look like some sort of mutant child." Lucius had abandoned the mirror and was waving his disposable razor at Harry. Which only served to make him chuckle harder, because of the patches of hair all over his cheeks and the many bleeding nicks. Malfoy's face darkened at the young man's sense of humor. "So help me, one of these days-"

"Just hold still," Harry shook his head. He aimed carefully before performing the nonverbal spell to neatly shave Lucius, then he did a simple healing on the cuts.

"Thank you," he grumbled, running a hand over his smooth chin. "You're early."

Harry admired his back while he slid his shirt over his head. "Yeah. It's my last day, so I decided to get an early start."

Lucius paused, his hands moving slowly as he began cleaning up his mess. "Last day? On to bigger and better things?"

"I've been assigned to a new case."

"I see."

"So, I won't be able to see you as often now."

"Why would you even bother? No one else does." His face turned slightly towards a picture of Draco's family that Harry had clipped from the Prophet.

Harry sighed heavily. "I don't know. I guess my day just isn't complete without being insulted or threatened."

"I'm sure you'll get plenty of that from other sources soon enough."

Lucius kept his back to Harry, a now familiar dismissal. "I'll be back in a few days."

"Of course you will. They always say that."

Harry ignored the pessimism and headed up to the entrance to start his day.

It was nearly a week before he made it back out to Azkaban. His new case was with a formidable wizard; they had gathered plenty of evidence, now they just needed to apprehend the man. A feat which was proving rather more difficult than anticipated.

Harry waved to a sleepy guard and half drug himself down the stairs. Outside of Malfoy's cell, he sank exhausted to the ancient floor.

"Potter?" Lucius sat up on his bunk. "What are you doing here?"

Harry sighed, not allowing himself to sag against the bars, he couldn't let his guard down. "Said I'd be back."

"You look terrible." He squatted beside Harry, peering through the bars at the young man.

"Thanks," Harry said sarcastically. "You're not exactly Play Wizard of the Month yourself either, mate."

"Yes, well." He ran a hand self consciously through his butchered hair. "I've good cause."

"So have I."

"Yes, I suppose you have," Lucius said softly.

Harry flinched when his hand slipped through the bars to smooth back the lump of hair from Harry's face. Going against all of his own safety rules, Harry followed his instincts, closed his eyes, and leaned heavily into the bars. Lucius ran his fingers through Harry's messy locks, until so soothed by his touch, Harry fell asleep.

An hour later, Harry opened his heavy eyelids and immediately reached in his pocket for his wand. Relieved, he breathed deeply and let go of the precious wood.

"I couldn't reach it," Lucius mumbled from just beside him.

Harry turned his face to see Malfoy's only an inch or two away. Without thinking, his eyes slid down to the thin, pink mouth smirking at him.

"This could never end well." He ran the tip of his finger across Harry's stubbly jaw.

"I know," Harry agreed, leaning into the touch.

The End.

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