Chapter Title: Negotiation
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. No money is being made. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended on anyone/anything.
A/N: Finally, right? Thanks to mini1969 for the quick beta :)

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It was the smell that got you first. The first thing that let you know you were near Azkaban. The scent of death and piss was like a slap in the morning; if nothing else got your attention, the smell reminded you where you were.

Well that and the nauseating boat trip across murky choppy waters to get to the island. Apparition was disabled on the island, any hope of escape meant having someone on the inside to lower the wards, or swimming across to the mainland, a guaranteed death for any human being.

Finally the rickety boat, if you could even deign to call it a boat, reached the island shore. Mustering up all the Malfoy dignity he could, Draco managed to exit the vessel and stand up steadily on two feet. All the while resisting the urge to drop to his knees, kiss the ground and scream, 'Land!'

A large man in tattered robes met him and acknowledged him with an oafish grunt; his big head precariously tilting in the prison's direction, a gesture Draco took as an indication to follow him.

They reached the entrance to the prison, and if it was possible, the smell got worse, so heavy you could taste it. A table was set up to the side and the man leading Draco went inside and hit the table twice. Draco seriously wondered whether the man was capable of speech when he did nothing but grunt at Draco's look of incomprehension at his gesture.

"He wants you to take your outer cloak off so that he can search it for concealed weapons."

Draco turned to face a man who could only be described as oily. "And you are?" Draco asked an imperious sneer on his face.

The man smiled revealing brown crooked teeth that made him look like a deranged oily rat. "I am Marcus Wells, Azkaban's Head Warden." He spread his arms wide as if revealing a prize, "Welcome, Lord Malfoy, we've been expecting you. Mr. Dobbs informed us of your arrival." The warden dismissed the guard at the table, "Come right this way, my Lord, I trust your journey was without trouble?"

"Satisfactory."

Without another word the warden led him down the halls of Azkaban; Draco was grateful for his silence. They must have taken a back route because Draco saw none of the other prisoners in their cells, he'd expected grimy hardened criminals pounding and leering through the prison bars, again he was grateful to Wells for anticipating his preferences; as he should for the amount of money paid for the private visit. Wells opened a door at the end of the narrow hall and directed Draco in with a hand. Draco strode in proudly, back straight with no hesitation- if he was to face his father as the new Lord Malfoy, he might as well act like it.

The door closed behind him, but the blond took no notice, his attention focused on the figure sitting at the table, head bowed, shoulders low and hunched. Draco walked further into the room, his shoes clicking loudly on the cement floor, echoing through the otherwise empty room. It was hard to believe that this figure of a broken man was his father. The arms stretched out on the table were thin, bony, the hands gnarled with black-edged ragged fingernails. His frame looked frail inside the tattered robes, with his head bowed Draco couldn't see his father's face, but the once proud head was hardly crowned with the luxurious mane of hair that was a Malfoy signature; instead Lucius' hair was matted and knotted, looked grey more than blond and seemed not to have been washed in years, rather than the months he'd been imprisoned. Obviously Azkaban did not agree with Lucius Malfoy.

Draco forced himself out of his shock and moved forward to take the only other seat in the room, facing his father. Under normal circumstances, Draco would keep silent and wait for the older Malfoy to speak as a sign of respect. This was not a normal circumstance.

"Father."

A raspy laugh acknowledged him, shocking Draco momentarily as there had never been any quality of Lucius Malfoy that one could ever call 'raspy'.

"Son," Lucius raised his head and glared at his progeny, "Or would you prefer I call you 'Father'."

Draco smirked, for all outward appearances his father remained unbroken and the pure anger in his eyes exemplified that. Now that he could see Lucius' face, Draco noted that while lined, gaunt and hollowed, the proud set of his mouth and the deadliness of his gaze had not faded an iota in the time spent in Azkaban.

"Would you prefer I call you Lucius, Father?" Draco's smirk grew malicious, "It is well within my right to demand you refer to me as your lord."

"Idiot child, for all your bluster you've mastered nothing." Lucius leaned back in his chair.

Draco felt a pang deep in his chest knowing that it would take years of practice and experience before he ever mastered the unquestionable dignity his father exuded even in squalor and disgrace. But for now, he could pull the cloak of the title, Lord Malfoy, around him and fake it as best he could.

"You have your opinion, I have the titles. I wonder who holds the power between us, hmm?"

Lucius gave his son a bitter smile, "What do you want, Draco? You can't possibly shame me further than you already have, you can't want something from me- you've taken it all- so what is it, you've bled me dry, you insolent brat, what more could you possibly want?"

Draco leaned back in his chair, mimicking his father's posture, "To give you a choice."

A cold laugh erupted uncontrolled from Lucius' throat, it chilled Draco and made him feel twelve again; but ignoring his insecurities he went on. "Your loyalties have long compromised the well-being of the Family; you need to make a choice, Father. The Malfoy name and legacy, or Voldemor-"

At the mention of the Dark Lord's name Lucius stood abruptly pushing his chair back so hard it fell to the floor. He leaned forward on the table inches from Draco's face, "How dare you speak his name, you insipid child!"

Doing his best not to gag at Lucius' acrid breath, Draco closed his eyes and opened them slowly forcing himself not to lean back, "This is exactly what I mean. You still demand respect for him when he's the reason you're here, it's pathetic." Drawing on anger Draco pushed back his father with one gloved hand, "Now sit back down and listen to your options."

Lucius glared at his son and considered baring his teeth. Deciding against that indignity, he leaned back and picked up his chair, sitting down as if on a throne. "Very well, my lord, continue." He waved his hand in mocking deference to the other blond, his face shut down and cold.

Choosing to ignore his father's theatrics, Draco continued, "Side with Voldemort and rot in Azkaban, choose your family, breaking all ties with Voldemort, publicly denouncing him and his followers, and I'll have you released and at the Manor." He smirked, "And if it's worth anything, a guaranteed shower; or bath if you prefer."

"The Dark Lord will have your head, in the most painful way he can devise, Draco. You're a boy, he's the most powerful wizard of our time; you have no chance."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Really, well then explain why a toddler disposed of him years back, with his own curse. Then there's the repeated foiling of plans that Potter, while incredibly annoying, makes sure of every year. Word is, he's weakened from his last encounter with that same boy, and he's the most powerful wizard you know of? Come now Father, logic is still available to you if you would but just use it."

A glimmer of anger broke through Lucius' mask, Draco smiled in triumph, few men could get to his father like this and live.

"Make your choice Father, I don't have all day."

"Exactly how are you planning to escape the Dark Lord's wrath, Draco? With Severus' help, I presume." At Draco's frown Lucius smirked, "Don't tell me you didn't know that your esteemed godfather is nothing but a traitor. And now you ask me to join that rank? If I stay here, the Dark Lord will free me soon enough and I'll go back to my position of power. I go with you, I die, for aiding traitors and for being one. Not exactly prime choices on your side Draco."

"I wouldn't make assumptions on what I do or do not know, if I were you Father." Draco leaned in, "You and I both know that your position as the Dark Lord's right hand is just a step up from the crawling and begging other Death Eaters do, not to mention the fact that even if he does free you, he'll find a way to humiliate you further for failing him."

"Nothing more than you've already done, my son."

Draco exhaled sharply through his nose, "Tick tock, Father. I'll have Dobbs come get your response," he stood up gracefully, "I'll need to know whether to have you disowned and marked off the family tree." He turned to leave but not before he gave a slow mocking bow to the former Lord Malfoy, "Good day, Lucius."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry blinked himself awake, eyes stinging from the bright sunlight. A groan escaped unbidden as he tried to lift his head to check his surroundings, the sharp pain letting him know that it was probably not a good a idea to try and fight gravity at the moment.

He felt a hand rest lightly on his head and push his hair back wincing as the fingers brushed across his scar, still painfully sore.

He must have registered the pain on his face because a voice apologised with a soft, "Sorry."

Some vague part of his brain recognized that it was Remus talking to him and that he was safe and had no reason to try and force himself upright and awake; the rest of his brain just sighed in relief. Harry lay back and closed his eyes tightly to block out the sharp light, his muscles relaxing quite blissfully in contrast to the pain.

He tried opening his eyes once more, Remus' blurry outline solidifying but not clearing out completely. He must be without his glasses, the why and how that must have happened coming back to him in painful pieces that made his scar twinge.

He settled for closing his eyes again, sighing in relief when some of the dull ache subsided, and just concentrated on his breathing.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Forcing himself not to bring up a particular memory Harry responded with a hoarse, "Voldemort." He tried not to wince at the gravelly tone of voice but again his face must have betrayed him because Remus put an arm around him and helped him lean against a pile of pillows before helping him to a glass of water.

It was all Harry could do to avoid pouting at the childish treatment, acknowledging that it may have the exact opposite effect. Then again it wasn't exactly a common occurrence for him to be taken care of like this, might as well enjoy it instead of letting it irk him.

Remus gave a hum of agreement the frown on his forehead deepening for a moment before smoothing out when he smiled softly.

"You should get some more rest." He ruffled Harry's hair affectionately before closing the curtains to ease Harry's eyes.

Ignoring the return of irritation at being treated like an eight year old with the flu, Harry forced himself to be at least thankful, after all it seems that the man had saved his life. "Remus?"

"Yes, Harry," the werewolf answered a hand on the doorknob.

"Thanks. I mean if you hadn't-"

Remus raised the other hand cutting Harry off, "It was no problem. Now get some rest, I laced the water with a mild sedative, it should ease the headache and get you to sleep."

A part of Harry knew he should be mad at Remus for not telling him about the sedative, another part was struggling to figure out why Remus had to come and save him from the Dursleys; but mostly, he just wanted to sleep.

He responded, but he was sure that it sounded like a mad person's mumblings. Remus just smiled, glad to see Harry finally relaxed, his frown returning at the thought of having to use a potion to get the boy calm enough to sleep peacefully.

Yet another thing to speak to Dumbledore about.

-o-

"I'm not going back, Headmaster."

He'd woken up to another morning, at least he figured it must have been morning as the sunlight had trying its damnedest to get through the thick drapes. After making sure that his body wouldn't instantly rebel at the thought of him moving from anything but a prone position, he'd left his room to look for found him in what looked to be a living room talking to Dumbledore in mild but tight tones.

True to his Gryffindor side, he'd jumped in, and this was where they were.

"I'm not asking you to go back to the Dursleys Harry-"

"Well of course you aren't asking me to go back to them, they're dead. I meant that I wasn't going back to any other place you'd like to stick me."

"Harry, think carefully. The Wea-"

"The Weasleys are safer without me!"

Remus frowned at him, "Harry."

Sighing at the werewolf's insistence on respect Harry continued, forcing his voice level, "Honestly, sir, where do you think Voldemort will look first?"

Remus intervened in his favor, "Harry's got a point, Albus." Harry gave the man a smile for his support which was returned in kind. "At least here he's safe, and no one will know of this location."

"Even you didn't know where I was until Remus contacted you." Harry offered.

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment before he continued, "Yes, he is safe now." He focused hard blue eyes on Harry, "But for how long? Wills aren't exactly easy to hide and Bellatrix will be trying to gain access to the family fortunes, Grimmauld Place in particular, now that Sirius is dead."

Harry hid a wince and ignored the stab of pain as the Headmaster continued, "There's no guarantee that she wouldn't know of this particular property, and blood wards wouldn't work against her. Those aren't even all the dangers of staying here, Harry."

"You mean my condition, Albus?" Remus asked, his voice quiet.

"Remu-"

"I don't care that Remus is a werewolf, get Snape to make Wolfsbane for him again. I don't care, I'm not leaving."

"Harry, he can't force Severus to do that. It wouldn't be fair."

"Don't talk to me about fair, Remus!"

Remus looked at him again causing Harry to sigh and mumble a quick, "Sorry."

Dumbledore sat back in the armchair watching the exchange, a hint of a twinkle returning to his eyes, "I doubt Severus would mind too much if I asked him, Remus. You and Harry have presented quite the situation. Though there's still the matter of the Black properties being accessible to Bellatrix."

Remus hummed in thought, "Perhaps if we locked her out of the Will, the magic would have to respect that. Then maybe we could try a Fidelius."

Harry snorted, "Because we've got such a great record of that where I'm concerned." He turned away facing a window to avoid what was sure to be another look from Remus.

Dumbledore carried on, ignoring the interjection, "It would be hard to do, seeing as blood magic is one of the strongest ancient magicks." He got up suddenly, much quicker than a man his age should. "Well, I'm sure the Black libraries here have some great books on the subject of wards, and you've always been an especially talented warder, Remus. Do you mind if I send young Bill here? No, well good. I'll get him the floo address, not to worry I'll swear him to secrecy - even to his family, then we'll go about securing the area."

He bustled to the floo and with a last smile, his eyes brighter, disappeared in the blaze of green flames leaving the somewhat flummoxed pair alone in the room.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Did we just..."

Remus cleared his throat, his tone careful as he answered, "Yes, well it seems we did. Though with Albus that can mean different things." He turned to Harry, a relieved smile on his face, "I'm not going to complain too much, yet, with Albus on what seems to be our side, we'll be sure to avoid any major issues."

"Like the MLE accusing you of kidnapping their so-called saviour?"

Remus gave a sheepish smile, "Well, yes, quite like that." Turning to walk out of the room he called back, "You must be famished, Harry. Come, you may as well learn where the kitchen is located, it's a bit of a maze in here. We'll talk as we eat"

Harry's stomach gave an affirmative growl in assent to the idea as he followed the werewolf out and he tried not to worry too much about his current situation.

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