It was with a heavy heart that Harry turned back to look at the gloomy stone arch entrance that led out to the equally depressing courtyard that surrounded the walls of Azkaban. But the outside was certainly better than the inside, where dementors floated around like a madman's caricature of soul-eating scarecrows. Harry, huddled next to a busty Nymphadora Tonks under his invisibility cloak, was preparing to execute a prison breakout.

"Azkaban's no place for children." Death had said, summoning his (Yes. His. Any objections can be taken to a court of law, holy death or not. Sue me, bitch, I dare you.) invisibility cloak from whichever part of hell she'd stowed it in. "But there's a godfather in there who doesn't deserve his suffering." and saying that, she'd dissolved into tendrils of electric charged smoke, but not before sending them a really pointed and meaningful gaze.

Though that was after the bombshell she'd dropped regarding their present age and appearance. Whatever peculiar form of voodoo the entity had employed, it was extremely effective, and had them looking like two fourteen-year-olds. That's right. Harry Potter and Nymphadora Tonks, undergoing puberty for a second time. As if the first time hadn't been enough. Why she'd made Nymphadora the same age as him, Harry wasn't sure, but her excited smile and the mischievous spark in her eyes had gone a long way in alleviating any worries that he may've had.

"Walk faster but don't trip." Harry mouthed once they were past the guard's station. A year and a half of being locked up behind these same walls hadn't given them much knowledge as to the layout of the place since they were hardly let out of their cell, if at all, and add to it the fact that Harry had been feverishly comatose the entire time. So, without any choice, they were tracing back the route that Death had led them down before the trip back in time.

They approached the crumbling flight of stairs that led up to the maximum-security cells. Azkaban was regarded as impossible to break into, or out of, Harry truly understood then, not because of the Aurors stationed outside, or because of its location in an unplottable sea, but because anybody who dared would have to walk past the swarm of dementors that filled the place like wasps in a vespiary. Good thing they had Death's clock. Now if they'd also had her panties, Tonks would've had something to do besides stumble and almost fall into a dementors gaping hollow mouth.

"Lose the clumsiness." He hissed at her, draping an arm around her and pulling her back.

"You'll save me anyway so why should I bother." she whispered back, sheepishly batting her eyelashes at him and snaking a hand down to his butt.

He stared at her for a long second, but a curl of his lips belied any wrath, and they continued onward up the stairs, tip-toing past the dementors that floated, equally spaced, lining the balustrade, till they reached the third highest wing.

"Oh shoot." Harry cursed. "Isn't that Ginny?"

Ginny Weasley, who had just recently celebrated becoming a teenager inside the solitary oppressive confines of her prison cell, was beating her head against the cold iron bars of said cell. This, being a regular occurrence, was usually ignored by the prison-guards whenever they came for an inspection, or when they deemed to drag her off to the shower-blocks, because, quote, the dementors couldn't stand her stench.

So, it was an unbearable surprise for her fragile mind when the valiant knight of her dreams, the boy-who-lived, savior of distressed damsels everywhere, came striding to her cell. As we can guess, she broke out in pitiful sobs and started wailing.

Was it really happening? Or had she finally lost her mind to madness?

"None of that, Ginny." He said, kneeling before her with a sad smile on his face. "Don't you cry anymore. We'll get you out of here."

With hitched breath and tear-stained eyes, she looked into his face and felt herself tumbling feet-first into his strong emerald eyes. For a second, she believed those words, believed that he'd be taking her out of this madness, this wretched place which was hell all in but name. But then she snapped out of her daze and resumed her tireless contest against the solid iron bars of her cell.

She remembered another set of eyes. Eyes that'd hid treachery and deceit. She wouldn't be making the same mistake twice.

Harry sighed and looked at the little girl. Here she was, suffering, in the last place any person, forget a child, should ever hope to be in. He had an idea about what must've caused her to be here in the first place. It wasn't like he could ever forget the events of his second year, and what might've happened if a corrupt minister and his bulging coin-purse had had their way. Clearly, there wasn't a Harry Potter in this timeline to save the world. But that was food for thought for the future.

"Listen, I'm going to get you out of here now, you hear me?" he said, looking toward Tonks, who was watching them with a stricken expression. He could imagine that Ginny reminded her of another kid, with the same woeful heartbroken eyes, when he was taken away from her. Suffice to say, they'd laid waste to half a city, annihilating the heart of Voldemort's forces, soon after.

"Tonks, can you keep her company while I fetch padfoot?" Harry asked, glancing back toward the landing. Sirius hadn't broken out of here this time around, and he wondered why. Changes to the timeline were so far looking really unpleasant, and having a kid around while confronting a possibly raving lunatic was a big no-no in his book.

"Sure, but don't be too long though. This place isn't doing anybody any good." Tonks said quietly as she took his place beside Ginny on the cold stone floor.

He hung around for a second longer than was strictly necessary, watching as ghosts from his past rose up and took shape around him. Sighing, he hiked toward the next landing – toward the highest security cells in Azkaban.

~azphxbrd: Thanks! Fingers crossed hoping that you like it.

Clarification: This story will not be exclusively Harry/Tonks. Both of them will be sleeping around with their fair share of women. Sometimes together, sometimes not. And sometimes with each other. But no ICKY relationships.

I've Fleur, Narcissa and some fictional sixth and seventh years spread out on the table right now, and I'm unfairly open to suggestions. There's a chance that Death will also share some amount of bed-time with our duo, but until i figure out whether to have maggots crawling out of her, or not, I'm putting that idea on hold.

Also, don't expect too much smut.