A/N: Okay wow so sorry this is going up so late. Have some reasons:

~ I didn't fall asleep until six-thirty am.

~ Then I was up from nine-thirty to eleven, and then two to three or so

~ I woke up after the sun went down at quarter of seven

~ The first thing that happened is one of my best friends messaged me saying a friend of hers who I've never met is stranded at South Station and needs a place to crash until Wednesday. He has ten dollars. It's the middle of a hurricane.

~ Discussion with my parents about this

Other notable things:

~ It's the middle of a hurricane. We might lose power for an undefined amount of time. Thus, if updates suddenly stop, that's why. They'll resume as soon as we're back online.

~ …I guess that was only one thing. Whoops.

Enjoy!

Chapter Forty-Nine:

Azkaban

Brunch remained festive, but the moment Sunny cleared the table, the mood dropped. The air became thick and heavy and unpleasant, as if Dementors already surrounded them. They were eating in the blue dining room, which meant the chairs were close enough that Draco could reach over and hold Harry's hand beneath the table, bumping their knees together. Mrs. Malfoy closed her eyes for a moment before standing.

"There is no need for dress robes," she stated calmly. "Do wear something nice, though. Draco, perhaps the cashmere sweater your father gave you last Christmas?" Draco nodded. "Very good. Harry, I'm sure you have something appropriate. Remember: no wands, no food, no jewelry, nothing sharp, nothing that could be used as a weapon. No shoelaces; Draco, I know you have loafers, perhaps you could lend Harry a pair if he doesn't?" Draco nodded again. "Alright then. Get ready quickly, we must leave as soon as possible. I should not have allowed brunch to go on as long as I did, but—" She cut herself off, visibly regaining composure. "Ready yourselves and meet me back in the front hall."

Draco dressed quickly and easily; a black long-sleeved shirt, black sweater, black slacks, black socks, black loafers. He always looked good, there was no need for him to put in any extra effort. Harry searched frantically through his drawer for something that met the criteria, but it seemed he had brought only casual, Muggle clothes or his dress robes from the Yule Ball, and nothing in between.

"Dray—"

"I know, stand up." Harry stood before him and Draco dressed him properly—black slacks, jade green shirt and black loafers. "Good. Now come here." Harry walked over to his vanity and Draco squeezed a small amount of goo into his hands, rubbing them together and then sliding them through Harry's hair. "Not as good as the conditioner, but it will have to do." Draco set his wand down and gazed mournfully at it, no doubt wishing he could bring it along. Harry didn't fancy the idea of being in Azkaban wandless either, but it didn't seem they had much of a choice.

"Ready?" Harry asked, taking his hand, trying to offer at least a little comfort.

"Nearly." Draco took Harry's other hand and kissed him, slowly and carefully. "I love you," he whispered, leaning their foreheads together.

"I love you, too." Harry squeezed his hands, and Draco squeezed back. Then he let go altogether, and straightened. "Come. We don't want to be late." He grabbed their travelling cloaks as they left, handing Harry his. "It's cold there," Draco said, wrapping himself in it. "I'd wear the one you gave me—Merlin knows I'd rather—but I think the occasion calls for something more somber."

"Yeah, of course."

Mrs. Malfoy apparated them to Azkaban. They landed smoothly, and the first thing Harry registered was a huge sign directly in front of him.

AZKABAN PRISON

NO WANDS

WAIT HERE TO BE SEARCHED

DO NOT TRY TO ENTER ON YOUR OWN

He turned around and saw they were in a small enclosure, surrounded by barbed wire and, presumably, enough spells to melt anyone who tried to walk through. They were butted up against the prison itself and a large, metal door sat in the middle of the far wall. He could hear the ocean crashing against rocks somewhere, but couldn't see it, or much of anything, from their holding space. Harry looked up. It seemed the wall stretched on forever; smooth, grey stone, a single row of windows cut vertically into the side. He could make out the top, but only barely, and looking that high made his neck ache uncomfortably.

Before he even had a chance to look away, coldness washed over him. He gasped, blindly reaching out for Draco, who took his arm and steadied him. A trio of Dementors floated down in front of them, and Harry's vision went green. His mother was begging, Voldemort was laughing, a flash of even brighter green and the dead thump of her body hitting the floor. Voldemort moved forward, moved towards Harry sitting in his crib, and then the scene whirled away and he was in the Department of Mysteries and Bellatrix screamed a curse and Sirius fell backwards into the veil, gone forever, the only family he had ever known destroyed. Bellatrix laughed and skipped through the aisles of prophecies, singing I killed Sirius Black, I killed Sirius Black, and that was gone, replaced by the Astronomy Tower. Draco was lowering his wand and Snape uttered the killing curse and Dumbledore fell, fell so very, very far. Harry stayed out of sight as the Death Eaters swept past him, then running down and collapsing over Dumbledore's dead body, heaving great, heavy sobs, and then he was in the Great Hall and bodies were everywhere, survivors being cared for, and—

"Harry!"

Harry's eyes flew open. Narcissa was crouched over him, resting a hand on his forehead. He had fainted? It had been years since Dementors had effected him so strongly. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around. The Dementors were gone, replaced by two wizards in uniform. They were scanning Draco with something, some sort of magic detector, Harry guessed, and Draco stood tall and straight, no doubt completely unaffected by the Dementors who plagued him so.

"Are you alright?" Mrs. Malfoy asked. "I tried to persuade the guards to give me a chocolate bar, but they wouldn't. Claimed they didn't have any; as if there was any other way they could survive working here." Her face and eyes were hard, but she was on his side, and Harry found it comforting.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Harry said, standing shakily, leaning on the arm Mrs. Malfoy offered. Draco was ushered through the door and then she was called over, leaving Harry by himself. He looked up and saw the Dementors were still there, hovering halfway up the building, looking down at them, as much as they could look anywhere. Harry was still cold, and memories were fluttering at the back of his mind, but as long as they kept a distance, he was all right.

Mrs. Malfoy was ushered through the door and then it was Harry's turn. The guards were impassive as they swept Harry. The only time they showed any emotion at all was when he held out his arms, like in the Muggle world; they looked at him strangely and he dropped them, blushing furiously. He kept his eyes on the loafers Draco had conjured him until he, too, was allowed to pass.

Harry joined Draco and his mum in a small cement room. A line of guards stood along one wall, the two who frisked them rejoining their ranks. There was a door opposite them but, otherwise, the room was empty. No monitors, nothing that indicated they had any idea of what was going on within the prison. It made Harry very nervous.

Draco stepped back and slid his hand into Harry's. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you," he whispered. "The guards, they're very demanding."

"I'm fine," he said. "It's just when they're really close like that."

"Then you better get yourself together," Draco replied. "They're everywhere inside, and they have a tendency of popping up unexpectedly."

Brilliant, Harry thought to himself.

The door opened and another guard stepped through. The line against the wall saluted him, and he saluted back. Then he turned to Harry and the Malfoys. "Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Lucius Malfoy and Harry James Potter," he read off a clipboard. "Here to see Lucius Malfoy."

"That is correct," Mrs. Malfoy said.

"You have already been inspected by the Dementors and our guards, correct?"

"Yes," she replied stiffly. "And I would like to lodge a complaint. Your Dementors—"

"Complaints are lodged in a different department, ma'am. If you chose, you may be escorted there after your visit," the guard said. "My name is Guard Swift and I will be your escort. Follow me."

Deep frown lines creased Mrs. Malfoy's face, but smoothed quickly enough. "Of course. Draco, Harry, come."

The first corridor they walked through was empty, but Harry could feel magic buzzing around him. Presumably there were spells everywhere, waiting to trip up any unwanted visitors or potential escapees. Then they entered the prison proper. They walked down a walkway suspended in the middle of the room, leaving an enormous drop between them and either side of the prison. Silencing charms had been cast so Harry couldn't hear what the inmates were saying, but he saw their mouths moving. They were led up a staircase, down another walkway and then entered through a black door marked DEATH EATERS. Harry shivered, and blamed it on the temperature. They continued halfway down the walkway and then the guard turned and tapped the railing three times. It opened up and another walkway slid out in front of them.

"Lucius Malfoy is in there," he said, gesturing. "I will remain here for the entire hour. You may interact with the prisoner as you wish, at your own peril. I am well trained, but there is only so much I can do if a Death Eater sets his mind to kill you. Merry Christmas."

Harry thought that a bizarre speech, but held his tongue, quietly following Mrs. Malfoy and Draco across the walkway. He stepped aside as soon as they arrived on the landing, keeping out of Mr. Malfoy's sight, as planned. He looked away from Mrs. Malfoy's greeting, away from Draco, very far away from the cell itself.

The problem, though, was that he was Harry Potter, and was instantly recognizable by every witch and wizard here. Silencing charms no longer protected him, and he had to listen to the screams of outrage, the meaningless curses thrown at him, the promises to hunt him down and destroy him as soon as they were set free. Harry sunk to the floor, resting against the cold, concrete wall, hanging his head between his knees. An hour of this, all so somebody who didn't want to see him could ignore him the whole time. Just how he wanted to spend Christmas.

He forced himself to think of the Burrow. The warm welcome he would receive, the hugs from his friends and their families, a home cooked dinner cooked by Molly Weasley. He hadn't seen the Weasley family since the Final Battle, and while he was a little nervous they wouldn't be happy about that, he knew he would be welcomed with open arms. Ron's flaming orange room. The ghoul in the attic. Gnomes in the garden. The way the house tilted. Fields and marsh surrounding them. He clamped his hands over his ears, trying vainly to block out the Death Eaters. The Burrow, he thought. The Burrow, The Burrow, The Burrow. He started listing off everyone he was going to be seeing, just to give his mind something to do. Ron. Hermione. Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley. Ginny. George. Bill. Fleur. Charlie. Percy. Pig. Errol. Maybe a few stray aunts and uncles. He wasn't thrilled at seeing Percy, but he reminded himself that he had come through when it had mattered and, even if he was incredibly dull, he was still family. He was downright terrified to see George; if he blamed him for Fred's death, Harry could hardly rebuke him. But it would be okay, he'd be with friends and family, Draco would be at his side, it would have to be.

Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped, slamming his head back against the concrete wall. "Bloody hell, Draco," he muttered, rubbing the spot. "You could've warned me."

Draco frowned at him. "I did. Repeatedly. You didn't answer. Father wants to see you."

Mustering all his courage Harry stood and walked over to his cell. Mr. Malfoy was gaunt and unshaved, though he didn't seem capable of growing anything other than scraggly stubble. His robes hung off him and Harry was vividly reminded of his nightmare when they had both been Kissed. The difference, the only thing that kept him from slipping back into the dream was Mr. Malfoy's expression: he was calm and smiling, holding Mrs. Malfoy's hand through the bars, resting the other on Draco's shoulder.

"I'm wearing the socks," Harry blurted out.

Mr. Malfoy's smile widened. "Good. Consider it a peace offering, a gesture of goodwill. You are hereby freed from my bad graces."

Harry was still incredibly nervous, and again said the first thing that came to mind. "Merry Christmas."

"To you as well," he replied. "I couldn't ask for a better gift than to see my wife and son. Draco informed me you were blocking out all sound, but he also told me that you know of our caroling tradition. I was instructed—rather rudely, I might add—to inform you we did indeed sing together."

"That's good," Harry said. "I wasn't a good substitute."

"So I was told."

Familiar coldness started to wash over Harry. He turned around; a small fleet of Dementors was advancing on them. His vision started to turn green but this time he pushed it back. Draco, he thought firmly. Draco lying in bed next to me. Draco holding me. Draco flying with me. Draco underneath me, clenching around me. Not aware he was doing it, Harry raised his wand arm, felt the magic tingling down to his hand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The silvery blue stag shot out from his hand and drove the Dementors back, far back, then down through the floor. It returned to them and Mr. Malfoy closed his eyes and let out a huge sigh.

"Oh, Harry, you have no idea—"

A hand grabbed Harry's arm roughly. "No magic," Guard Swift said angrily. "Wandless or otherwise. There should be dampeners in here; how did you get past them? What did you do?"

Harry tried to jerk away, but the guard was very, very strong. "I don't know!" he protested. "It just happened!"

"Just happened, eh?" the guard said. "We'll see about that." He held out his own wand and simply said, "Back up." Two more guards apparated next to him, and Harry thought it very strange that he wasn't supposed to be able to do magic but the guards could so easily. "Take this boy to the holding room," he said, letting go so suddenly Harry nearly fell. "Leave him there until I can talk to him."

"Yes, Guard Swift." Harry's arm was grabbed again, and then he was in a tiny concrete cell with no doors or windows. There wasn't even a chair for him to sit on. The guards who brought him here disapparated before Harry could ask anything and he stood, staring at the blank wall for a few minutes. Then he sat, staring at the blank wall. It wasn't like there was anything else he could do. He wondered idly if he could be imprisoned himself for his Patronus, but he thought it unlikely. Far more realistic was the prospect of being questioned for hours on end, not allowed any food or water. Eventually the Weasleys would get suspicious and send someone to Malfoy Manor to check on him. Mrs. Malfoy and Draco would no doubt be forced to return as soon as their visit was over, and they would greet the visitor. The Weasleys would be informed he was being kept locked in a cell in Azkaban and all hell would break loose, effectively destroying everyone's Christmas.

Harry sighed. How was it he always managed to get himself into these situations? He didn't even have the healing kit Draco gave him, not that it would help. His head had already stopped aching from hitting it against the wall, and he didn't think Draco had included anything for breaking out of Azkaban, or even sending a message to worried friends. He knew Patronuses could be used to send messages, but he had never done it before and didn't know how to go about the spell. And really, the point was moot anyway. He didn't have his wand, and his grasp of performing spells without one was very limited indeed. He didn't know how he had done it earlier, but he was pretty sure he couldn't repeat it. And even if he could, getting into more trouble didn't seem like a good idea.

His thoughts slid to Dumbledore. If only he were here, if only he was alive, he would know what to do. No doubt he could just command the guards to let him go and they would. Or he could apparate in and whisk Harry away with him. At the very least, Harry was certain he could send a message; one to him, telling him he was going to be okay, one to the Malfoys, comforting them and one to the Weasleys, warning them he would be late. Of course, even if Dumbledore was alive, he no doubt had more important things to do than visit convicted Death Eaters on Christmas Day and likely wouldn't hear about it until the Daily Prophet got ahold of the story, which they certainly would. Harry could picture the headline with vivid clarity: GOLDEN BOY IMPRISONED FOR PERFORMING ILLEGAL MAGIC. No doubt they would find out about his trial years ago for the same offense and paint him as some sort of madman, throwing off spells at anyone and everyone whenever he felt like it with no regard for the regulations.

Harry chose to blame his plight on Gryffindor's ring. If he hadn't been affected by such strong magic this morning, he wouldn't have been able to perform the charm at all. Yes, he would have passed out again, making a fool of himself, but at least he wouldn't be locked up. Stupid Gryffindors, always meddling where they didn't belong. Always having to be the hero. He had seen the expression of relief on Mr. Malfoy's face, see him stand taller as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It would have been one thing if he had summoned his Patronus on purpose to help his boyfriend's father; it was another entirely that he did it by accident to protect himself. More of a Slytherin move than a Gryffindor one, really.

He had no way of knowing how much time had passed when three people apparated in front of him. Mrs. Malfoy, looking absolute furious, and scarier than Harry had ever seen her. This was the true Malfoy coming out; never mind what she said about a lack of disdain towards other houses or how warm and kind she had been to Harry: this was the blazing fury of a Malfoy and a Malfoy alone. Harry had only ever been on the receiving end of such anger, and even now with Mrs. Malfoy on his side, it was still terrifying. Beside her stood Guard Swift and a man in a suit; the warden, maybe? Harry scrambled to his feet, hoping he looked at least vaguely presentable.

"Of all the wizards to break through our spells, somehow I'm not surprised the feat was accomplished by Harry Potter," the man in the suit said. "And wandless, no less. Very impressive."

Harry stared at him. This was not the reaction he usually got when he broke the rules. "Um," he said. "Thanks. It was an accident."

"Yes, no doubt," the man in the suit said. "Only the unbridled passion of the unplanned could be strong enough. We can hardly hold you accountable for actions beyond your control, now can we?"

Guard Swift looked furious at this, Mrs. Malfoy still behind her blazing fury, and Harry stood, utterly confused. They could indeed, and very easily. "Er, no?"

"Very good. You may go, though you are prohibited from returning to Azkaban until we reformulate our spells," the man in the suit said. "I'm sure you understand."

"Right."

The man in the suit took out his wand and muttered something very quietly. A blue wave of light flew across the room. "The apparating charm has been lifted, you and Mrs. Malfoy are free to return to your day," he said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Harry echoed.

Mrs. Malfoy shot Guard Swift a look of pure fury before turning to the man in the suit. "The Ministry will hear about this, mark my words."

"I am sure they will," he replied. "I look forward to speaking with them."

Her lips turned up in a snarl. She grabbed Harry's arm and they disapparated immediately, landing in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor. Draco had been sitting on a couch but he jumped up at their return, rushing over to hug Harry.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "What did they do to you?"

"Nothing?" Harry said, still not quite believing it. "I sat in a room for a while, and then a man in a suit appeared and said I could go. I don't even know who he was."

"The warden," Mrs. Malfoy said. "Jack Wanderer. He may have seemed cordial, Harry, but believe me, his actions toward you stemmed from nothing other than your name and my threats." She took a deep breath and seemed to calm. "However accidental your magic was, it was still an extremely impressive feat. I'm afraid my kiss and Draco's singing paled in comparison to your Patronus; Lucius was finally able to relax, and be at peace. The stag remained throughout the rest of our stay and, for all I know, is still there. Thank you."

"Uh, sure," Harry replied. Draco had released him but he remained at his side, holding onto his hand very tightly.

"Draco has informed me you have an afternoon and dinner engagement, so I won't keep you any longer," Mrs. Malfoy said, almost returned to her normal self. "I told Sunny to pack and send your luggage ahead to Switzerland; I trust there was nothing you need for your plans? I can have her fetch it if there's a problem."

"No, it's fine," Harry said. "I just need my wand."

"The same holds for me," Draco said. "We will return to my room and then say our goodbyes?"

"Yes, that's fine," Mrs. Malfoy replied. "Have you an idea of when I can expect you in Zermatt?"

Draco looked at Harry, who shrugged. "Would you like us back at a certain time?"

"No, it's quite alright." She sighed and put a hand to her head. "I'm getting an awful headache. I think I need a good sit in the sauna. Would you object to an immediate departure?"

"Not at all, Mother," Draco replied. "Whatever you need."

She hugged him and kissed his forehead, then hugged Harry. "I will see you this evening," she said. "Or perhaps tomorrow morning, if I retire early. Do not fret if I do; you know how Azkaban wears on a person even without needing to rescue Harry."

Harry flushed. "I'm sorry," he said.

"All the rescuing in the world is worth it to see Lucius smile," she said. "I'll see you boys later. Send my regards to the Weasleys." And then she vanished.

Draco hugged Harry again, very tightly. "Don't ever do that again," he said firmly. "You scared me half to death. I haven't seen Mother so angry in ages. Father was the one who kept us from going crazy; your Patronus had such a strong effect on him, it was wonderful. It was like he was his old self again." He finally pulled away. "Well, we might as well get going. No use in fretting about things over and done with." They walked up to Draco's room, fetched their wands—Draco had to unlock his closet door, which took a few minutes of fiddling as he wasn't used to such strong charms, even from himself—and then they disapparated.