Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.
Warning: This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.
Summary: When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.
Note: So much thanks for all your support. ^^
Dementor Kiss
Chapter 7-Ice
"He smelled of soap and sweat, and something powerfully masculine, that was, somehow, comforting.
Warmth and security.
He felt protected, safe from the horror that he had to suffer. "
"I'll come every day, I promise."
"Harry ... Where are you?"
It hurt so very much...
Draco swallowed convulsively, trying to concentrate, but was unable. He couldn´t. Wouldn´t. All his being revolved at the mere thought of getting exposed to that creature. He began to tremble, knowing the punishment would be terrible.
"Well?" – The question calm, almost bored.
Draco just couldn´t do it.
"I can´t…" - He said, barely louder than a whisper, his gaze on the floor, just so he didn´t have to watch it coming.
"I see ... – The sigh, so much cooler. The slyhterin hugged himself terrified. – Draco, is for your sake. The sooner you learn, the lesser you will suffer."-False kindness, frozen words.
"Leave me alone, I will not learn anything from you!"- Draco thought inside, but unable to say the words aloud.
He felt the condensation of his breath ... The soft whisper of rope sliding down the carpet... Closed his eyes, began trembling slightly, and this time couldn´t stop it from griping his body. Couldn´t end the shivers that raked his frame.
The dark aura of the Lord expanded becoming more oppressive and frightening, wrapping him gently. His respiration faltered, the temperature in the room dropped to almost unbearable. The candles were extinguished one by one, the shadows lengthened covering everything.
Outside, the first wails of thunder could be heard.
The vapour that Draco was breathing, seemed to become ice.
The situation, too similar to his stay in the cell, and the disease that nearly killed him, awakened terror, despair ... inside himself. His ribs brutally oppressed his lungs, in a much afraid reaction to panic.
The pain was spreading all over his body, for the effort of standing the stifling presence, perceived only as a whisper of darkness that slowly entered his head, his body, his heart ... invading, dragging him. Hopes and dreams disappearing in the obscurity, slowly and thoroughly.
He stifled a groan of fear and hugged himself a little harder. The hot blood on his palms began to stain his robes a beautiful crimson. Wherever he clung to the fabric trying to find comfort, appeared deep red spots like rose petals.
The dark lord stopped in front of him, the anticipation, fear and terror of knowing what lay ahead were too much to continue silent.
"Please don´t ... "- His voice cracked, like glass shattering.
Despite having closed his eyelids, Draco could feel the moisture that threatened to soak his eyelashes. The self-hatred grew unbearable.
Silence reigned in the room ... not a whisper, not a rustle, not even the sound of another breath that was not the painful crawl of his own.
The blond inhaled shakily, a convulsion seemed to shake his frame with the effort.
"Please ..." – He begged, repeated, more brokenly. The effort of speaking claiming the already little oxygen from his lungs. Feeling disgusted by his own cowardice. But unable to bear this silently. He was so scared ... "I can´t go through that. Not again…" He thought in the edge of sobbing.
He could feel the black aura so close ... the breath of death touching his skin. A presence made of static electricity, which attracted and frightened at once. He wanted to throw himself at his feet and beg, but a piece, just a trace of the prideful Malfoy he had been, refused to give up that last bit of dignity.
His body as tense as a violin string, remained paralyzed unable to react.
The Lord Dementors bony hands landed on his shoulders...
The feeling ... Draco recoiled. So cold and frightening ... that tore the little oxygen that had managed to catch his lungs, out. He began to cough powerless to take fresh air; his throat was dry as dust, like he had swallowed ash. Another seizure came, as a reaction of his body desperately straining for breath. But nothing came to his lungs. Draco clutched his chest where his heart was pumping like mad, opened his eyes filled with tears. Grey and misty as a rainy day. Behind the figure of the Lord Dementor, outside, the storm had broken. "It's raining ..." the moisture on his cheeks ... and in the glass. Draco began to fall forward ... the hold he had on his body broken... and finally, all of him collapsed on the worn carpet. The feel of the wool under his cheek ... "It's ... warm ..." Rain drops sliding down the glass ... then… darkness.
Draco opened his eyes… and the pain almost sent his mind tumbling again to unconsciousness. He closed his eyelashes in reflex, just waiting for everything to stop spinning.
A faint moan escaped his cracked lips. What had happened?
The memory returned slowly, made him tense, caused a violent coughing fit to resent his battered lungs.
When he finally got over it, his mind full of scary memories, and breathing laboriously, Draco realized… finally that he couldn´t fell the aura of the Dementor Lord.
"Then I´m alone... For now." -The former slytherin wasn´t under any delusion, about his punishment being over. But maybe, he could do something to placate things a little. Took a breath to calm down, and began analysing the situation.
"Okay ... it hurts ... I have something broken?" From experience, he knew that any other hurt should be healed more or less, by his well-seasoned inner magic, in a few days or so, but a bone break ... for that, he would need help, and didn´t know yet, if he was going to have any in his present predicament.
So the slytherin tried to get an idea of the magnitude of the damage, he appeared to have received. Gently moved each arm and leg, one by one, evaluating the response of each of them. - "Okay, it seems I have no arms or legs broken. But I´m chained" -The clink of metal when performing the movements, seemed to indicate it. - "And... I´m lying… on a puddle?" He could feel moisture soaking his skin. Some icy liquid he didn´t think was blood. If it had been cold blood, it would be dry and sticky, not liquid and freezing. But the surface on which he lay, seemed solid.
"A stone ... a cell?" -He swallowed convulsively.
Slowly Draco opened his eyes.
He was in a stone-walled space, dimly lit by a torch whose wan light only managed to deepen the shadows. Humidity permeated the atmosphere, and the ground was effectively waterlogged. Some moss growed on the walls. The spellbound metal door in front of him, seemed the only entrance, and there weren´t windows.
"At least it´s not as small as my old cell." -The thought wasn´t didn´t give him any solace.
Unable to move, Draco stared at the ceiling, entirely focused on the moisture stains streaking the stone. Anything that distracted his mind from the panic and memories...
"You think you're worth something? No one cares about you ..."
"You should have died ..."
"Spread your legs for me, love ..."
Draco closed his eyes tightly.
He needed to forget, needed to escape. He felt is breathing quicken.
"Please no, please no ..."
"Enough! I don´t want to remember!"- Shout out loud, managing to suppress the voices and the memories... barely.
He clenched his jaw, and concentrated on sinking those reminiscences in the depths of his mind… and remembered…
"Hey, stay calm, I will not hurt you."
"Why are you so scared that I know you can talk?"
"Wi... will you come to visit, at least to once?"
"Every day, I promise"
"Harry ..."- The memory of the Auror heated him inside, and took the nightmares away.
When finally, the squeak of the door opening came to his ears.
The Dementor Lord.
Every water drop on which the blond was lying, froze in contact with the robe of the terrible master. It felt like ice was forming in his hair, and in his own tunic. The breath of his lips turned into steam.
"I hope you've had time to think about your actions." - hissed at his side. Draco didn´t deign to answer.
"Not now, you need rest." Harrys words pooled, in his mind.
From his position on the ground, he could see that the Lord had something in his hand. A finely carved golden box.
"I see ... I thought we had overcome this, Draco." – The terrible one said gently, as if scolding a disobedient child.
The white one, realized, that since awakening in the cell, the little spirit that he had left since he started becoming a dementor, seemed, suddenly, to have revived.
"What have I been doing?" –Asked himself.
The last days his will had been gradually dying out, and he had slowly begun to become another of the faithful Lord Dementors puppets. But strangely, now, something seemed to have broken the ice cap that had been about to enslave his will. Why? "Try to sleep a little, we will talk in the morning." The warmth of those words poured into his stomach, and seemed to melt the ice conjured by the mere presence of the Lord.
"It´s because I'm remembering Potter?"
Draco looked puzzled at the monster stalking him.
The Dementor Lord frowned. There was something in Draco that hadn´t been there last time. "I thought I had killed nearly all his happy memories" Annoyed by the delay in the emptying of the nasty bits of mankind, the Lord kicked the prisoner.
Draco caught his cry of pain. "Definitely I have at least one broken rib." The kick seemed, to have touched a broken bone; he should have received the injury while unconscious. The slytherin gritted his teeth against the pain. "A green as intense as the Avada Kedavra, warm an hot as a spell" The look of the Auror. Thinking about it, comforted him a little.
The Dementor Lord took a step forward, perceiving the presence of a pleasant memory.
"I have to give him something else to think about" -A hissing and cruel laughter escaped from his throat, remembering what he had planned to do with the young blonde.
The black one sat by the little white, with a dripping venom smile marring his lips.
Draco swallowed. The smile gave him chills. "Nestled in his arms, allowing himself to soak the aurors warmth."
The Dementor Lord showed his sharp teeth in a grimace of disgust, when, after a slight shudder, the look he received from Draco was clear as crystal. Without fear.
He grabbed him by the chin brutally, taking his head toward him.
"Think you can fight me with a couple of ridiculous memories?" - He hissed menacingly.
The icy breath of the monster touched his face, smelling of death and putrefaction. The hand on his chin threatening to break his jaw.
He gathered his will. "Draco buried his nose gently in Harry's coat, smelling of soap and sweat and something powerfully masculine" A shiver of pleasure ran through him at the memory.
Disgusted, the Dementor Lords claws dug in his cheek, blood began to trickle down Draco's chin and stained the white fabric of his robe.
"All right ... I thought to offer my gift later, but I see you are eager to take it."- The words so maliciously said reeked of venom. Then the Lord freed Draco from his claws, who´s head struck the stone at being released, but managed to contain any expression of pain.
The bony hands of the Dementor Lord unceremoniously tore his white, and already, tattered robe. Exposing to the dim light of the torch, a porcelain white skin, crossed again and again, with scars of past tortures. Some were still in the process of healing. The extreme thinness made his ribs clearly visible, the clavicles marked as a collar of bone. However, in a way that skirted tears, it was beautiful. The slenderness of the figure, the perfect proportions, the creamy skin, the incredibly narrow waist ... all of him talked about the pure blood elegance, only reached after generations of careful breeding.
"Beautiful ... "- muttered the Dementor Lord, possessively stroking the flat expanse of his belly.
Disgusted, Draco searched inside his mind for something strong enough to repel him, but could not remember anything quite warm, friendly and engaging enough for it.
"Think, THINK Draco. Or are you going to let this monster..." He shivered and felt nauseated. The slight hissing laughter of the Lord came to his ears. His hands began to descend toward his thighs, "I have to stop this now!"
"... Warm ... comforting arms surrounding his body, gently, very gently." He felt the hands were advancing more slowly. "The smell ... of soap and sweat ... Harry. He sighed quietly, it felt so good ... protected." The hands had completely stopped in his waist. "His chest, strong and broad, sheltering ... The touch of his hair on the face scrambled ... tickling ... – he smiled slightly." The cold palms left his body. "The softness of his golden skin ... the intense green of his eyes ... A groan issued the delicate touch of his lips ..."
A slap took him out of the dreams, in which he had not even realized had sunk.
The Dementor Lord was furious.
He didn´t know who had been Draco thinking about, but he had seen the tiny spark of love. Tiny, barely alive, but so beautiful. He felt disgusted. Repelled and furious to perceive a feeling that he had long since forgotten. For a moment he wanted to kill him ... but managed to restrain the need. "Why kill him? When I´m finished, he would want to be dead... And he will be mine." The Lord laughed insanely, coldly, at the mere thought.
Draco swallowed hard listening to the crazy sound, a mixture of hiss and laugh. And yet, he felt worse when the creature stroked his cheek in a mock imitation of affection.
"Whom were you dreaming about ... um? – He said sweetly. And bent to touch his lips to the pale ear. - You will regret it... And plead for mercy before I´m even finished." – A whisper before departing.
"I hope you like my gift." - The powerful dark one said, sweetly, as if talking to a lover. And opened the golden box he had brought with himself.
Draco gazed at the content.
Inside the chest there were two dozen magnificent golden needles long as his hand, gleaming slightly under the light of the torches. Thin as pins, and filled with exquisite carvings. They were true works of art.
"They're beautiful, right? My father gave them to me. – The Dark Lord took one out, and began turning it in his fingers, admiring the sight and finesse of its making. - Gold, made by hand. They are enchanted so that only one of our lineage can remove them once stuck. - He said gently, showing the one in his hand.- Originally they were for dissections. The enchantment prevented anyone from spoiling the experiment, or from stealing them. But you see ... my father never thought what more useful applications could have a spell like that." - Smiled, and the golden light cached and sparked in the tool.
"Hugged a little harder." Draco took energies from the thought.
"I also gave them my personal touch." - The sharp tip touched the chest of his immobilized victim. Not quite breaking skin, just a veiled threat.
Draco gasped, but did not look away. "Nothing I say will stop him."
"You see ... I added another spell, so that in case of being stuck in a living creature ... they react a little differently.-bright cruel smile in black lips- Cause tremendous pain to the victim, one can paralyze a limb, but if you take more than five ... fever, nausea ... you feel as if you are dying. But don´t worry, they are prepared to prevent that from happening. No rest, no relief, until I decide to remove them." – The bony hand stuck the tip in his chest, as easily as if it were butter. A horrible shock of pain gripped Draco, who, had not been chained, would have convulsed.
He gave a low painful moan.
"What do you think?" -The Lord whispered in his ear, licking his lobe sensually. The young nobleman refused to answer, proudly turning his face to the other side.- "As you wish."
Slowly, very slowly, the needle sank until only a golden drop could be seen on the skin, as if it were an ornament. With the entering of the metal spike blood began to flow, painting a little crimson thread that contrasted beautifully with the shattered and pale skin.
The pain was horrible ... Draco convulsed with every millimetre that was introduced in his body, writhing against the chains, unable to escape it. Tears flooded his eyes and began to slide down his cheeks ... before frosting on the pale skin.
Terrible screams escaped his throat.
"Enjoy it Draco. Enjoy."
It had been three days.
Three days registering the tower, watching the guards, and searching the books that MacGonnagal had send with Hedwig. All to no avail. And yet it had been disappearing much more food than usual of the kitchen, and no one had seen anything.
"When does he get it?" - Ron hissed indignantly, walking from one side to another of the guard rest room, like a caged tiger.
At the moment the three Aurors were alone, in one of the rare times when they got rid of both unsuspecting guards. At the moment, they were out taking their tasks inside the prison, while a couple of elves watched the kitchen.
Hermione sat before the fire, surrounded by heavy volumes. Just now going through another, ignoring Ron's bad mood and the strange attitude of Harry, who did nothing but mumble some statement from time to time while watching the flames in the chimney.
"Are any of you two listening?" – Ron asked, and Harry looked up started.
"Yes, yes ... I have heard you, Ron." - The dark haired auror murmured.
"And what I just said?" - Said folding his arms, upset because he was being ignored.
"..." - Harry looked away trying to hide his guilt. Ron threw his hands to heaven.
"What I was saying? You aren´t interested in either case!"
"Don´t be a kid Ron. We have encountered bad situations other times." -Said Hermione, finally lifting her face from the book. The redhead sighed and flopped down beside her.
"I know ... it's just that we don´t have a clue. Nothing. Since we came here, all had been conjectures. It's like trying to catch smoke. I tell you, we should interrogate the guards."
"We have talked about it, Ron. We can´t without permission from the ministry, and to ask for something like that, we need proof to support our suspicions. Especially because they were interrogated before we got here." –
The redhead ruffled his hair frustrated.
"Then I don´t know what to do."
Harry got up and began pacing thoughtfully. Until, finally, he stopped, and looked at his friends with a gaze of unwavering determination.
"That´s it. We will have to review what we already have. You, Hermione, return to the basement to see if you can get some more detail from Zabini. - Mione nodded and began to put the books back in his magical pocket. - Ron, you to the kitchen. It occurs to me, that, although we have not succeeded in discovering anything, the elves working there must have seen something."
"I did ask them, they don´t know who had taken the food." - His friend said wearily.
"You have said so, who. What if we were wrong, and was not a who, but a what, the one to do it?"
"A that ... ... Could it be...- immediately Ron began rising with renewed energy. Quickly took his coat. -See you at dinner. Good luck." –And leaved hastily, shouting goodbyes over his shoulder, as he walked through the door.
When the wood had closed behind him, Hermione approached his dark haired friend.
"Harry. And you?" – She asked seriously.
"I?" – He asked back, as if he didn´t understood the question thrown by his friend.
"You know what I mean. You're not going to return to the tower, right?"
"... It´s only logical that it's me, the one to do it. I've been there before. Besides, you were the one who spoke with first Zabini, it will be more difficult for some detail escape your brain." - Hermione grabbed his arm before he tried to get the invisibility coats bag.
"At the tower may also have gone Ron."
"But I had been there before, as I just said." - He repeated without looking away from the pack. His monotone voice, the uneasy averted eyes…
"Precisely. Harry, we've talked about this already. You promised that you wouldn´t look for him until the case is solved." – The brave woman, reminded his best friend, so very seriously.
"I know. I'm not going to see him." - The green as crystal of his eyes, rotated back to Hermione. So hard and solemn…
"All right. – She released his arm. – Just be careful. ¿Okay?"
"Aren´t I every time?" – Harry asked with a wry smile. He picked up his coat, and left an uneasy Hermione alone.
Harry sighed as he walked toward the aged door. Since Hermione had made him promise to not seek the small white one again, he had been feeling uneasy. In his head he kept the feeling that something dreadful had happened drilling inside every few hours. He felt again, and again, the scourge of guilt, and now felt it once more when his hand touched the doorknob. Furious with himself, the auror savagely crushed the sentiment. "First I have to finish the mission." Hermione's words about his irresponsibility, and how he would ultimately endanger the magical world's people, returned to his muddy mind. With renewed determination, the former griffindor opened the door, and began moving down the hall.
Lady Margaret looked sadly at the chocolate frog she had gotten from the backpack of one of the Aurors. The wrapping paper shone golden in the light of the candles that adorned the hall, bright as a Christmas present. Cheerful.
"I hope he can eat this..." – She muttered to herself, pressing the box against her chest. The lady dementor knew it was risky but ... his little had not eaten in three days. Since she found him on the floor of his room, sounded by a drying pool of blood. Delirious, shivering non-stop, consumed by fever ... His tunic, broken in no more than a tattered and bloody fabric, barely clinging to his frame. And those golden ornaments ... the blood seemed to flow from them. She had tried to take them out, but could not, and just touching them made the little one cry heartbreakingly.
She dragged him to bed as best she could, and ran desperately for help, but ... The Dementor Lord had not wanted to offer it. Said Draco deserved this punishment. Margaret did not know what he could have done, to deserve something so hard. She had prayed, begged help for him. .. But...
After that, she had no dared ask to the rest of the dementors. If the Dark Lord said that he deserved it, no one would contradict him. But she couldn´t leave Draco in that state.
So, took a basin of warm water and returned with Draco.
During the following days she had cleaned his wounds. Applying cold compresses on his forehead, though the fever had not decreased. Trying to avoid more injures, when he suffered spasms due to the pain...
Noting worked as his condition worsened day by day.
She had been trying to feed him, but could not get in his body more than a little water. He seemed unable to hold anything else. Once, Margaret even tried to give him a little memory. The reaction was so violent, that she thought the seizures would kill him.
She had not tried again.
This piece of chocolate, robbed from the visitors, was the only food that she knew for sure, would have some effect in him. She didn´t know whether it would be beneficial or harmful ... but if she didn´t do something soon, Draco would die anyway.
Margaret turned away from the wall of the hallway, where she had been thinking, and walked toward his room.
When she came inside, the lady had to stifle a sob.
In the centre of the huge bed, Draco seemed little more than a rag doll. His tunic had recovered a little, and now looked more like a dirty rag than anything else… but his body shook like a leaf, fevered and so ill... the blond groaned weakly, unable to issue any other sound through a throat that was already three days raw, shattered after issuing scream after scream, over and over again, until it was no longer capable of more.
When the Dementor Lord had been done with him, Draco had lost count of all the times he had fainted, only to be awakened again by the terrible pain of a new needle piercing his skin.
Finally, after losing consciousness last time, he had been dragged back to his room by William, who kicked him brutally.
The pain almost plunged him again into unconsciousness, and Draco regretted that it hadn´t been the case.
He felt vaguely, when William turned to leave the room, closing the door behind himself, and moaned weakly, it hurt so much ... he couldn´t even move. And began to mourn in silence, without strength for anything else.
"He smelled of soap and sweat and something powerfully masculine, somehow comforting."
"Warmth and security."
"He felt protected, safe from all the horror he had to suffer."
"I'll come every day, I promise."
"Harry ... Where are you?"
It hurt so very much...
That was three days ago.
Margaret sat in the corner of the bed, took the cloth, now dry on Draco's forehead, and dipped the rag into the bucket that was on the nightstand, carefully re-applying it. She noted the laboured breathing of her child. The way the muscles contracted painfully under the skin. The pallor of his lips almost blue...
The lady took the chocolate frog from her pocket, and after looking it a moment, opened the box. The small chocolate creation jumped and tried to leave, but Lady Margaret managed to barely catch it.
Margaret sighed, relieved that she had not let the sweet escape.
Looked at the dying blonde, looked at the frog. If it wounded him more… but what could she do? There wasn´t anything else, she hadn't already tried…
Finally, pulled one leg from the chocolate frog. Gently threw back Draco's head. Crumbled the piece of chocolate in her fingers, and put it in his mouth with a little bit of water to help the swallow. Massaged his throat... The young man swallowed convulsively. Margaret looked at him expectantly.
After a long minute, the silver eyelashes quivered, and finally, Draco opened his eyes, barely.
Harry had just entered the tower, when an exclamation from one of the rooms made him stop. Something hit his shoe.
Lowering his eyes, he saw a chocolate frog escape jumping at three feet.
It will continue.