Chapter 7—From Bad to Worse

Updated 3/8/2018

A/N: Just a bit more sadness before everything becomes so much better. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There's quite a bit of action at the end! I'm sure it will leave you smiling. :0)

Slowly, ever so slowly, dull, glazed green eyes opened. His entire body was on fire and stabbing in pain. He was shivering, upsetting his broken bones and fresh wounds, but he couldn't stop. Sharp pains and throbbing aches overwhelmed him, and his head felt about ready to split open. He closed his eyes again, the dim light too bright for his aching head.

For the life of him, he couldn't remember what happened to put him in such a sorry state, but he knew it had something to do with Fudge. The man's falsely cheerful greeting and the bitter cold from the dementors was the last thing Harry remembered.

His heart was pounding in his chest from the fear of not knowing what happened. His blood was throbbing through his ears. God, he hurt worse than he could ever remember hurting. Even the beating, or rather the time he "tripped and fell down the stairs", that sent him to hospital when he was six didn't hurt as badly as he felt now. Everything hurt from his toes to his fingers to his lungs and chest. He could do nothing but lay there and pray for unconsciousness to take him again.

He let his head roll to the side into a puddle of cold, sticky fluid. He didn't care; he couldn't.

Opening his eyes again, he stared at the wall, not able to make out individual stones through the blurry haze encompassing his vision.

His mind sluggishly sorted through his injuries as his heart slowed and the rush in his ears lessened.

It took a few moments for him to comprehend what he was hearing.

A shrill scream pierced the silence but was muffled as if coming from a distance.

Aidan, his slow mind supplied.

His heart began its erratic throbbing again, and Harry used every bit of energy to crawl to the wall. Adrenaline fueled his strength as he pulled the stone away easily one-handed. He dismissed the uselessness of his right hand and fingers in his panic to remove his son from his hiding place. He ignored the sharp, searing pain in the swollen digits as he pulled the screaming infant to his body. Aidan's face was dark red and wet with tears as he continued to scream loudly.

The high pitch seared a path through Harry's ears and into his splitting skull. He shushed him and patted his back awkwardly with his smashed hand. It hurt so badly, but it was nothing compared to the pain he was feeling in his heart for his terrified infant.

How long had Aidan been screaming that he had broken through the silencing charm?

Harry awkwardly bounced him as well as he could by holding him with his forearm. His hand and wrist were useless. His left hand cradled the back of Aidan's head, forcing the baby's face into Harry's neck as he continued to shush and hum to his distraught child.

It took an eternity, and Harry was feeling quite nauseous from pain when Aidan finally calmed down to sniffling tears. Harry wasn't sure how long Aidan had been in that wall; he had no way of telling, so instead of waiting for his son's cues, Harry pulled off his bloody, torn tunic and settled against the wall behind him.

Aidan latched on to his nipple immediately eating as if he was starved. It just made Harry feel that much worse. His son had been left to starve in that wall. He prayed Draco would come back soon with a way out of here. He didn't know how long he would last like this.

He began taking an inventory of his injuries.

His left ankle was throbbing with pain and heat. It was impossibly swollen and purple. He could see the jagged bone poking against the skin awkwardly through the swelling. It looked disgusting. His legs were mottled dark purple, black, and yellowish green. Bloody and infected cuts and scrapes covered him from head to toe. His hand was definitely broken in several places, and so was his wrist. He probably had a few broken ribs as well if the ugly purple bruising circling his torso and the shortness of breath was any indication. The blood that was everywhere couldn't be his because most of his injuries were broken bones and small cuts. Even the blood caked in his hair from the head injury wasn't enough to warrant all the blood around him.

There was blood splattered all over his cell and pooled in some spots. There was one sticky pool that had a face-sized smear, and Harry suddenly was hit with the nauseating, metallic smell of blood. He wiped the side of his face with his shoulder, smearing the blood even more. In a panic, he picked up his tunic, most of the blood on it was dry, and scrubbed his face until it hurt.

Again, he wondered what happened, but knew he really didn't want to remember.

Harry felt tears spring to his eyes. Holding his son hurt so badly, but no matter what, he would never give up the simple pleasure of feeling his son's warm body so close to his own.

He stared down at Aidan's perfect little face. His son was opening and closing his fist against Harry's chest, like he usually did when he nursed. Sometimes his little fingers would grip on his skin and his nails would leave tiny scratches. His son's nails were way too long.

Harry moved to cradle Aidan using his broken hand and used his other to pull Aidan's hand to his mouth. Without having any other option, Harry began biting Aidan's nails into a more acceptable length. His son had already scratched himself on his face before, and it was stupid for him not to do anything about it when he could. Now, after however long Harry had been out, Aidan had scratched himself again, and Harry kissed the angry red mark on his baby's soft cheek.

He needed to focus on his son. He couldn't be selfish at a time like this. Obviously Fudge had found out about all the stuff Harry had, since now, he only had another threadbare blanket. Thankfully, Aidan still had a flannel blanket wrapped around him.

As the days crept by, Harry's injuries only got worse, but he learned to block out the pain. He couldn't move his right hand at all from all the swelling and his left ankle was destroyed from his attempts at walking to the toilet and sink. His breathing had become harder to manage as his ribs shifted and poked at his internal organs. He felt like he couldn't take a deep breath from fear of puncturing his lung. He knew rib injuries and punctured lungs well and did his best to not move much. It was what sent him to hospital when he was six, and he had nearly died first from the punctured lung, then from the infection that set in.

Sadly, that week and a half he spent in hospital had been the best of his young life. He ate regularly, except when his aunt and cousin visited, which was only once a day and rarely bled into meal time since Petunia promised her Diddy-dum-kins a dinner out if he behaved in hospital.

Aidan was bored. Harry could see it in his face, hear it in his disgruntled grunts, and understand it in his frustrated kicking and wiggling. Harry tried to hold him all the time, but he just couldn't. He did his best to bite his lip through the waves of pain and continue to hold his son, but those waves were coming stronger and lasting longer. Aidan missed being held and carried, rocked and bounced. He was nearing two months old, give or take a few days due to Harry's unconsciousness.

He was so adorable. Harry loved that Aidan was always smiling and babbling. No matter how upset he had been the day Harry took him back out of the wall, he was all smiles and babbles after feeding. Aidan always made Harry feel like a weight was lifting off his shoulders, and the child talked a mile a minute. He was going to be a social butterfly like his Daddy Draco.

Harry no longer had the blankets or mattress, but he did retain one blanket and the one he wrapped Aidan in, so he laid them down, Aidan's atop the moth-eaten one and set Aidan down on his tummy. Aidan had long mastered rolling over from his tummy to his back when he was done laying face down, and he had just recently rolled from his back to his tummy. Harry wasn't sure what was normal for a baby, but everything Aidan did, every milestone he passed, made Harry glow with pride.

Immediately, Aidan pushed himself up off the floor with his arms. Harry felt bad because of the chill he knew his son was feeling from the stones, but he had been holding him for hours this morning and his arm couldn't handle any more right now. He lay on his side and rested his head on the blankets, watching Aidan. He was grunting as he was struggling to get onto his knees, but he was in the wrong position. Harry used his left hand to position Aidan's legs underneath him and watched with gleeful pride as Aidan pushed himself up with his arms. He held it for only a few seconds before falling and whimpering.

Determinedly, he pushed himself up again, his head and body rocking before he fell again. He kicked his feet out, frustrated, and rolled over onto his back. Harry laughed and clapped, knowing it was what Aidan wanted, and Aidan copied him in his own jerky clapping movements and a deep belly laugh. Harry loved his laugh. He loved being silly so that Aidan would laugh at him.

When Aidan showed his first magic, Harry was completely amazed. He knew Scotland was moving into fall, and with it came the cold fronts and strong thunderstorms. Aidan, who used to not startle at anything, was on edge during this round of storms which seemed stronger than any of the others he experienced. Harry was cuddling him closely sometime in the middle of the day. It was pitch black except during the flashes of lightning outside the window down the hall. Harry could feel the icy chill as soon as the cold front pushed through. It felt nearly as cold as when a dementor was nearby, but this cold was all outside and nothing in his soul.

The storm was right on top of him. He could feel the electricity in the air and just as a streak of lightning flashed, thunder cracked deafeningly right beside them, startling Aidan from a nap. It looked almost as if it was habit when Aidan's little hand came up swinging around a ball of bright blue light.

It was the brightness of a newly learned, uncontrolled lumos, but his son, his infant son, had produced it in his hand! Harry crowed and, forgetting his injuries, scooped Aidan up and tossed him into the air as the lightning and thunder continued to fill the air. Aidan giggled madly as the light surrounding his hand vanished as if it had never been there. He squealed and clapped when Harry swung him around merrily.

"Aidan, you're such a big boy!"

"Ba ba!" Aidan cheered. Harry pulled him to his chest, careful of his broken ribs, and nuzzled his nose into his son's neck. He smelled of milk, dirt, and sweat, and Harry breathed him in deeply. Aidan was happy, healthy, and doing magic before his 2 month birthday.

It was then that things began going downhill for Harry. The weather changing was what killed most people in Azkaban, Harry knew, and it was taking its toll on him. The prison was humid inside from the lack of proper ventilation and protection from the outside, so a cold dampness clung to everything, creating a stifling, freezing environment. Harry couldn't stop shivering from the cold and spent his entire time holding Aidan as close to his body as possible.

Aidan's skin seemed to radiate heat constantly, but he didn't seem ill. The baby was as content as always; he loved being held and cuddled, and Harry, not wanting his son to catch a chill, was more than willing to oblige.

The days wore on and Harry began developing more symptoms of being sick. He couldn't breathe through his nose, which was the worst because he also couldn't breathe deeply to begin with because of the pain in his ribs.

Within a week, Harry hadn't ever felt sicker. Growing up, he had never had a cold, the flu, or even chicken pox like his cousin had experienced, so living through it now, he had no idea what to expect. He vomited often. His lungs burned and felt heavy and congested. He coughed nonstop night and day. Coughing killed him. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat or hold it down if he did. Quickly, he returned to the unhealthy state he had been in while pregnant.

Aidan was suffering as well. Since Harry was no longer able to get enough nourishment, his body wasn't producing enough milk for Aidan's satisfaction. He wasn't sure how healthy it was, but he began feeding Aidan his watery, plain oatmeal in tiny bites. He kept pushing it out with his tongue, but Harry hoped he got a little at least. There wasn't anything else he could do. He could barely hold Aidan. He was so weak that more often than not, he just lay there in a coughing fit with Aidan cuddled against his back to avoid coughing near his son.

Aidan began coughing and getting fussy late one night. He pulled harshly on his ears, turning them red from irritation. Harry couldn't help the tears that began sliding down his cheeks. He was failing as a father. Ever since Aidan had been conceived, it had been one thing after another. It was as if God and the world were against Harry and his son's existence. He felt so hopeless and despondent. He began to believe Draco was never coming for him.

He couldn't protect Aidan any longer, either. Neither from Fudge nor from illness. Aidan's bum had a nasty red rash because Harry could no longer clean nappies, so he used drying and cleansing charms with his sporadic magic. He was losing weight and his hair, greasy from being unable to wash it, was getting dull and thinning from malnourishment. Gone were the thick, shiny, black locks Harry had adored since Aidan's birth.

Harry curled closely around his son and sobbed into his hair.

The wind was strong, tangling his shaggy hair around his head. He carefully peeled his hand off his broomstick and pushed it out of his eyes for the hundredth time. No way was he going to let Draco Malfoy beat him to the Snitch. He didn't care if it wasn't a real game; it was the principle of the matter.

Draco laughed, pulling up beside him. "Looks like you need a haircut." He reached over and tugged a thick strand, and Harry laughed, swiping his free hand at his boyfriend, playfully shoving at him.

Suddenly, Draco's face lost its amusement and gained a satisfied smirk as he looked at something on the other side of Harry and took off.

Harry knew that look well. Draco had seen the snitch before him.

Harry pulled his broom around instantaneously and let out a whoop of delight as he caught up to Draco. He spotted the snitch on the other side of the pitch flying away from them. They flew dangerously close to one another going at breakneck speeds. Harry kept glancing at Draco, and Draco kept glancing back, both smiling shyly when they would catch one another's eye. They were watching each other more than they were watching the snitch, but like usual, Harry retained his sixth sense.

Without looking, Harry dove straight down, and Draco followed, laughing.

They pulled up inches from the ground, their toes brushing the long grass.

In a move reminiscent of First Year, Harry scooted up the handle of his broom and reached as far as he could. Draco's fingers closed around his wrist just as Harry's fingers curled around the fluttering snitch. He promptly lost his balance with the loss of momentum and the addition of Draco's hand holding his arm, and he overcorrected and tumbled from his broom, rolling several feet before landing with a pain-filled grunt.

"Harry!" Draco's voice sounded panicked as he felt his boyfriend's hands on his neck, face, and chest. Frantic movements danced across him, but he was too dazed to open his eyes. His whole world was spinning and swirling.

"Harry!"

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight up at the concerned, pale face of Draco. Testing himself, he raised his right arm, the golden snitch dazzling in the bright sunlight and he smiled half-heartedly. "Beat you," he whispered right before his lips were smothered with Draco's.

"Shut up," Draco murmured against his mouth as his tongue invaded his.

Harry pushed away whatever pain he was feeling and wrapped his arms tightly around Draco. His legs wrapped around Draco, pulling him down flush with Harry's body. He moaned at the feeling of Draco's body covering his own.

"Mmm… Harry." Things quickly heated up, and they both began rutting against one another.

"Harry."

"Harry."

"Harry!"

Harry jerked awake, groaning from the sharp pain in his ribs. He coughed harshly, duly noting the specks of blood on his hand. They didn't concern him any longer. He'd been coughing blood for a week.

"Harry!"

He jerked again. So he wasn't imagining it. He moved his head to look at the entrance to his cell. The head rush was awful, and he moaned. He felt dizzy and it took a moment for the black spots to clear his vision enough to see who was calling for him.

"Ree, what happened?"

Draco was looking at him in concern, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and Harry felt his heart swell and his hope increase tenfold.

"Dray."

Draco quickly started moving, seeing as Harry was too weak to get up.

He began waving his hands, magic sparkling and flashing against the wards surrounding the cell. It took a while, but the lock on the cell clicked sharply, and Draco sucked in an audible gasp. Oh, God, Draco was in? This was really happening? Was he getting out?

He pushed the cell door open, pushed it closed behind him, and rushed to Harry's side. "Ree, what happened?" he asked again, kneeling and placing a hand gently on both Harry's chest and forehead. "You're burning up." Draco's hands sent a shiver up and down Harry's whole body. He knew it wasn't pleasure that made him shiver but the cold of Draco's skin against his own feverish skin.

"Fudge," Harry managed in a whisper. It took everything out of him to push himself to his elbows.

Aidan chose that moment to wake himself with a coughing fit.

"God, Aidan." Draco's voice was an amazed whisper.

Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position, and he groaned in pain, clutching at his ribs. He leaned over and awkwardly scooped Aidan up, setting him in Draco's arms. "Watch out for his neck. He's getting better at holding it up himself, but he's been sick for about a week."

When Draco was able to get a feel for the limp baby, he cradled him in one arm. With his other he reached for Harry and curled his fingers around the back of his lover's neck. "God, Harry, I love you."

"Love you, too, Draco." Harry turned his head to cough harshly again then wiped the blood spatters on his tunic.

"We're here to break you out. Sev, Bill, Charlie, Tonks, and Remus are downstairs breaking down as many cell wards as they can. Arthur and

Fred are in a cell together as are George and Ron. We just have to get them out on the cliffs to be able to activate the portkey. The portkey will take us to Germany, and we'll take a flight to Romania in the morning… And I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this," he grinned as Harry's eyes drooped sleepily.

"Sorry," Harry murmured.

"Don't worry about it. Let's get the two of you out of here."

It was like something in the movies. Only those written or in a movie had as much bad luck as Harry experienced. Harry began feeling the cold of dementors and sucked in a deep breath in surprise. "Fudge is here."

Harry noticed the moment Draco felt the effects as he went completely gray. His pale skin lost all color it had and his eyes went dull.

"Dray, take Aidan!" Harry ignored all the pain and scrambled to his knees. He grabbed Draco by the hand and pulled him to the wall with the hidden crawlspace.

His fingers shook with the pain that was beginning to escalate, and finally, Draco took over pulling the rock from its place. "Get in! Get in!" Harry pushed at Draco panicking, trying to get him to hurry into the tiny place.

"Ok, Harry, close us in." Draco gave Harry a quick kiss right before Harry pushed the stone into place and waved a spell to protect them.

Exhausted, Harry barely made it two feet before he fell back onto the floor. His vision began losing color, and the pain in his head increased. The gray faded to black, and Harry never saw or heard the Minister's satisfied chuckle. He never felt the Minister's hands checking Harry's erratic pulse. He never felt the kick to his head that split open a long gash at his temple.

Draco curled tighter, and Aidan began whimpering as soon as the brick was pushed into place. He felt the soothing whisper of Harry's magic as he cast a wandless silencing charm over their hiding place. His heart was pounding in his ears with the desperate need to protect his child and his lover. There was nothing he could do for Harry right now, which killed Draco, but he knew without a doubt that Harry would put Aidan's safety above his own.

His body began to tremble as he felt the dementors enter the hallway. His hope for getting them out was the only thing he could cling to as his worst memories, mostly revolving around Harry and the final battle, began playing like a sick film across his mind.

Aidan's whimpering turned into cries, snapping Draco from his nightmares. He jiggled the baby as best he could while in such confined space and shushed him gently, his lips pressing to the baby's fever warmed skin. The cries were broken sporadically with coughing and Draco thanked every god there was that Harry placed the silencing charm over them.

He could hear the muffled sounds of a metal door, probably the cell door, squeaking open. The sounds of heavy boots on stone were barely discernible, but the sound of the Minister's voice as he sneered and snarled at an unresponsive Harry, as well as the sounds of a heavy object hitting flesh made Draco want to leap from his spot and avada kedavra the man to Hell. Only Aidan and his inconsolable sobbing kept Draco hidden.

He continued to try soothing his son, but nothing was working.

It was long, excruciating moments before Draco heard the sounds of the cell door closing, murmured spells, and the effects of the dementor lessening. Still, Draco couldn't move, frozen in terror of him being found with Aidan.

It wasn't until Aidan started screaming several minutes later that Draco realized something was wrong. Harry would have come for them if the coast was clear. He felt like he couldn't breathe. The walls of the small space were closing in around him without knowing what was going on on the outside. Was it safe? He hadn't heard anything in quite some time.

Slowly, he pushed the brick out, pausing to listen every few centimeters until he could see enough into the cell to know Fudge was gone. The stone caught on something and Draco pushed it harder to make enough room to squeeze out.

Harry's foot lay against the stone. His unresponsive body was sprawled on his back across the floor. Fresh blood trickled from a fresh cut.

Draco slid out of the crawl space, cuddling Aidan close and scooted across to Harry. He cupped his bruising cheek, feeling tears start to form in his eyes. It took several times of patting his cheek and calling his name before Harry's eyes started fluttering.

"Harry…"

Aidan was crying, screaming, and Harry slowly blinked. He wiped at the sweat on his forehead and didn't even notice that his hand came back bloody.

"Ree."

He opened his eyes again and was glad to see that he hadn't dreamed Draco. His head was killing him, and he groaned. Aidan's tearful crying was hurting his ears, and Draco's bouncing wasn't doing anything to calm the infant. Harry reached for him, pulling him weakly from Draco's arms.

"Shh, little baby. Hush, you're all right. Shhh…" Harry whispered into Aidan's hair right above his ear. Aidan's tiny hands and fingers pinched at the skin on his neck and collarbone.

Draco moved over to the closed cell – it was now a wall – and he began casting the dismantling charms again.

"Harry, we need to leave," Draco said a little sadly. Harry wasn't quite sure why he sounded upset when they were leaving together, the whole family, but he dismissed it. "Can you walk?"

Harry pushed himself up to his knees. Draco helped him to his feet by his upper arm, then held tightly to keep him steady. "Here, wrap your arm around my shoulders. I'll help you walk." Draco guided Harry's arm around his shoulders and held it in place by his wrist. Draco wrapped his other arm around Harry's waist and together, they slowly walked out of the cell leaving the door wide open and the stone hiding the crawlspace on the floor, a sure sign to Fudge that Harry was giving him the middle finger.

They tripped and struggled down the hall and into the stairwell.

It was slow going, and Harry felt lightheaded like he was going to pass out. He struggled with keeping a firm grip on Aidan. He was weakening. He hadn't walked in what felt like years, and his ankle was causing him more pain than he ever thought possible. He tried not to use it at all, but Draco was already struggling with as much support as he was giving to Harry already.

"Dray, I gotta slow down," Harry panted, coughing breathlessly.

Draco faltered and stopped, looking worriedly at Harry. "Are you all right?"

"No." Harry let himself slide bonelessly to the floor as he continued to struggle with his breathing. His lungs felt like they weren't taking in oxygen, and he was lightheaded. His ribs were stabbing him sharply, and he was afraid he was close to puncturing a lung if he hadn't already.

"Harry! I'm sorry, but we can't stop! There are guards walking these lower floors and dementors." Draco took Aidan from Harry, then pulled him to his feet again. "Come on. It's not too much further."

They climbed down what seemed like eighteen more flights of stairs but was only three with Harry draped over Draco's back. Now his lover was supporting most of his weight and carrying their son, but Harry couldn't even bother to care. He just couldn't do it. He was about to pass out. He was about to vomit. His head was spinning, and he was losing his footing.

He couldn't help it when his stomach rebelled. The pain he was feeling was overwhelming. He pushed off Draco's back, falling to a slump against the wall, and spilled red-tinted bile from his stomach. He heaved several times, Draco grabbing at him anxiously.

"Harry! I hear someone!"

Harry gasped, choking on bile. He allowed Draco to help him up again and heard the footsteps. He felt the panic well in his chest. They were so close.

He used as much energy as he had remaining, and together, the three of them finally found the door to the outside world. Draco brought them to the cliffs, hugging the dark, shadowed sides of the prison.

"Here, hold Aidan, and when I get down, hand him to me, and I'll help you down," Draco said, setting Harry on the edge and placing Aidan in his arms. He climbed down and took Aidan from Harry.

Harry bit his lip as he and Draco climbed down a bit more in the same fashion. He was forcing his hand to work and the sharp stings everywhere were taking his breath away. He wanted to vomit again, but he pushed himself. He just had a little bit more and the he was free. Just a little bit more!

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he saw Severus, Bill, Charlie, Tonks, and Remus all surrounded by redheads and several of his friends and teachers from school. He slid down to the ground and promptly allowed the unconsciousness that had been threatening him the whole way down to take him.

A/N: So he's free! What do you think? Was the escape anything at all what you hoped or are you all just so happy he's finally free that you don't care how it happened?