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: A bit more slash. And well… Reviews please? I really, really need some to keep me going. ;-;
Emeralden Rapley: Don´t worry Emeralden, they will ^^
TroMin: Thanks for your review. I´m happy you like my fic even if it´s full of creatures. XD Hermione and Blaise won´t be together for a bit, but don´t worry they will someday. ^^
Dementor Kiss
Chapter 10 - Magic
Blaise parted his lips from the wrist, and his body exploded with ecstasy. The intensity of the movement of his fangs, retracting from the skin, took Draco to orgasm at the same time. It was like a wave that engulfed them both, and made them feel loved and away from hell for one bright moment.
For a moment he remained completely bland. Lack of blood, and being waist deep in icy muddy water, only worsening the chills that had begun to take over his body. Blaises arms curled around his back, and drew him a little closer. The bars that separated them jabbed their chests, but Draco didn´t care when he could feel lips on his forehead. They were warm from the given blood, and that made him smile slightly, despite everything else.
He missed the warmth of his best friend.
"I'm sorry, I've taken so much." – Draco felt the sound against his skin.
"It's okay. Besides, we have enjoyed it, and that's good for me." – His hands slipped between the metal bars and delved in the dark curly hair of Blaise. Playing with his curls as the blond knew he loved.
"Don´t try to distract me, that technique became useless when we were eight." - But Blaises voice had a slight tone of amused surprise. His embrace became a tad narrower, and his nose sank into the soft blond hair from Draco's temple. – "What would I do without you?"
The small laugh of Draco sounded like an old and tarnished bell, a sound that was trying to be cheerful, but contained the sadness of someone who has seen too much, and was too much spent. And the echo was too suffering for a person that young. Something that spooked of lost innocence, and immense sadness. And the sound made Blaise bite his tongue to keep still and quiet. Because he had to hold the pieces of his friend on site and keep him whole, and not grab the bars that separated them and shout with all this might, and try to pull them out, which was what he really wanted to do, but that he knew would be useless.
Instead he kissed the soft and delicate skin of the pale temple and forehead, the tip of his upturned nose, and the curve of his cheek sunken by hunger, sleep, and suffering. And wondered how hunger could have sculpted his face, to make it the most beautiful and fragile sight possible.
With those eyes, so clear, surrounded by delicate mauve dark circles, so deep and sad you could drown in them. Those fine glassy lips wet with saliva, which had the same colour of the roses from the garden of his mansion, that last summer they were free. And that pale skin thin as tissue paper, under which, he could read, if he really tried, the entire map of fine spider web like, purple veins.
He kissed the corner of his mouth, and the tears that even Draco didn´t know was pouring, and licked them with the tip of his tongue making the pearly drops his. Savouring them like he had tasted his blood. They were salty and cold, as much as his best friend, shaking and shivering without a complaint passing his lips.
Offering the heat of his just fed body, he tightened the hug even more, and Draco's hands slipped from his hair to his neck, returning the hug.
They hugged each other as hard as they could with the metal bars in the middle, as a last shield taking away two bodies, that otherwise, would have been put together as puzzle pieces. Pressing so hard against them, that later would be marks on their skins. Marks of metal and desperately clinging fingers, but none cared the least. So they kept it for a while, a few minutes or an hour, but no more than that. Because they both knew that this momentary consolation had to end, if they wanted to really be saved anyway.
Finally was Draco who spoke first, and made the first effort to unravel their members.
"I have to go."
"I know." – They looked at each other.
"I will come again soon. - Said Draco quietly, almost as an apology. - Would you tell Pansy that I'm all right?"
"It´s a few days now that I haven´t see her. But when I do, I will." – Blaise didn´t even consider the possibility of not seeing her again, like he wasn´t ever going to contemplate the possibility of never seeing Draco again.
Draco frowned worried. What could have happened to Pansy?
"Don´t make that face. She´s the best located of us three. The guard would not let anything happen to her. Surely with the aurors swarming Azkaban, they have kept her locked. As things calm down a bit, Pansy will come to see me. Don´t worry."
Blaise's words got Draco little calm. Unfortunately he couldn´t go and look for Pansy, not unless he wanted to see her confined to a cell again.
The only reason she was still fine, was because when interrogated with verisaterum had nothing to tell.
And the best thing for her was to continue that way.
He had not seen her since he was cursed, and both, the one and the other, knew they were fine thanks to Blaise.
Luckily the vampires were not affected by that potion, otherwise he wouldn´t even have been able to see his other friend.
Without verisaterum, and torture being banned by the ministry, there was little anyone could do to make him confess, and anyway, the guards would not have allowed it. For different reasons, but the result was the same. And Draco was able to see his best friend.
"Go. If you delay, Potter might suspect something." – Blaise helped his friend up holding his arms and pulling gently upwards.
Draco stumbled a bit, due to the weakness cursing in his nearly empty veins, but soon recovered. The curse making its work in sustaining his life.
"I will come as soon as I can." - Said as he took the first step back.
"That's what you always say." - His friend replied with a smile that did not reach his eyes. Draco wanted to erase it, and replace this false one with the real smile that he missed so much, but he had no time. – "Be careful." - Finally said with a hint of sadness hidden in the background.
"You too." - Blaise replied.
And those were the last words they exchanged, a moment before Draco began to retrace his steps back to the room.
-
He felt wet, cold, and a little dizzy. But much happier than when he had left.
Maybe he was too tired, or dizzy, or just was that the man was really quiet. But in the end it was irrelevant the why, because he didn´t feel him approach.
Draco was putting his hand on the knob of the door leading to the ground floor from the basement, when a hand closed around his arm abruptly flipping his body. His head hit the cold metal of the door, getting him momentarily stunned.
"Have you missed me?" - The voice was calm and collected in the stale air of Azkaban. As lazy as cigarette smoke. As lethal as cancer. Draco gulped and looked up.
"Tomas." - His voice did not quite tremble.
The guard was the same as always. Dressed in a black regular guard coat, that just made him look skinnier and taller than he was. His light brown hair neatly pasted to the skull and aquiline features, hard and sharp as ice chips. His mouth was tight in a constant grimace of bitterness, his blue eyes as empty as mirrors.
"You haven´t answered my question." – His hand slipped of Dracos hood in a gesture almost of tenderness, until his face was uncovered. Big blue cruel eyes looked for the terror that he himself had carved there. The vision gave him a feeling of justice, even if he would never admit having missed it.
He had missed the brightness of those light eyes flooded with tears, the point just when that beautiful voice broke unable to issue one more cry, the way the smooth pale body adapted to his when the blond had stopped fighting.
Draco was a Death Eater, a murderer, a creature of upper vile and despicableness, and the son of a monster. But sometimes the most horrible taste could look the most sweet and appetizing. Draco was like a rotten fruit covered in caramel topping and sugar icing, fresh baked cream and cotton candy. All delicate sweetness concealing a corrosive and ulcerating poison.
"I ... "- Draco knew he had to say something, but his voice broke and his eyes began to flood. Lately he did nothing but cry.
Tomas nodded slightly, imperturbable.
"Right, cry, it´s the least you can do for all the people you have hurt." – The guard stroked his cheek with long fingers like spider legs. One of the tears slid across his check, until Tomas took it, and looked at the perfect crystal drop for a moment.
It almost seemed real.
Draco began to shake more violently, and not only from cold, eyes pinned to Tomas's face, wanting nothing more than to close them, but not daring to do it. He remembered well the lessons learned over the past seven years, and a couple of weeks away from his master wasn´t enough time to forget. And although he had prayed endlessly for not having to need them again, now he could not help but follow them to the letter.
Which entailed not looking away from him, no matter if his throat was torn by the screams, or if he could barely stay conscious. His eyes couldn´t move away from him, it would entail aggravating much, much more, his situation.
"It seems that you haven´t forgotten what I teached you. - Said dispassionately. - That's fine. I would have been disappointed otherwise." - Tomas put his hand in his pocket, his eyes, so cold, glueled to Draco's own. – "It's taken time to have you away from any of them. The Dementor Lord is watching you right. I don´t blame him, there are very few who can see beyond that pretty face of yours." - He took out his wand. Draco stuck his back to the door. – "But I do know what's underneath. You are like your father. A dark and disgusting creature." - Posed the wooden tip on his throat. – "And the only reason I haven´t killed you yet, is because someone like you doesn´t deserve that relief." - His last words contained such hatred, they might have been acid.
Draco wanted to shout that he was innocent. He hadn´t chosen to be marked, had not chosen to be Lucius son, or killed anyone, and in fact had not ever done anything that went beyond some small insults and cruelty, more fruit of pride and an a childish attitude, who had long since gone, than anything else. But he knew it would be as useless now, as it had been seven years ago. At least now, he knew enough to stay quiet and not provoke his tormentor.
The wand gently lifted his chin and lips brushed his. Tomas. It was very soft and tender, like a caress. Sometimes the guard could be horribly sweet. Draco felt nauseous. Lips against lips became bruising and hard. And then just a brush:
"I know I can´t touch you, because that bastard Dementor Lord will kill Henry if I do. – He whispered in his mouth. - But sooner or later he will tire of you, or you will get him angry enough. And when he withdraws his protection… I'll be there. Don´t forget it. – Started turning away from the trembling young. - The murderers always get their punishment."
Tomas, finally, turned his back on him, and walked away melting into the shadows of the hallway.
"This has been a reminder." - The faint sound of his voice in the distance, and faint disappearing steps, was the last thing Draco saw of him.
A couple of minutes passed with Draco so very still. His legs felt weak, and the dizziness had returned in full force. He managed to straighten through sheer willpower. He had to get out, had to return to the shelter of the store.
Felt like if he didn´t start walking, he would cease to function and would collapse like a sand castle.
Slowly, one step ahead of the other, the weak blonde started the way home.
There was only one thing keeping him whole, the memory of Potter.
The only thing, the only thing in his battered and almost completely demolished heart, that had not been corrupted in one way or another. Harry, who was so kind and pure ... the only entirely good thing left in his existence.
-
Getting to the store had been pure agony. He was so cold ... the fear in his stomach coiled like a snake, trying to devour him from the inside. The memories were threatening to take over his mind and make him vomit.
But thoughts of those green eyes got him the strength to finally get to the door, and turn the knob.
"Hey! You had me worried. Where were you?"
The aurors voice filled Draco with relief, whose legs finally gave out. Quick seeker reflexes threw Harry forward like a panther. And the powerful embrace of the dark haired man closed around Draco a moment before hitting the ground.
"Sorry. – Draco murmured faintly against the fabric of his shirt. - Strength has failed me."
The Auror lifted him easily, as if he were a lady, leading him to "bed".
"It's okay. But you shouldn´t have left if you were feeling weak. Somebody could have seen you. Why did you leave?" – Harry was perplexed and worried at the little who seemed to be shaking. He was so cold! Carefully he embraced his thin body against his chest, wrapping Viely in the folds of his coat.
"I just wanted some fresh air."
"Next time, wait for me. I'll go with you. Merlin you are frozen." – Harry rested his chin on top of the hooded head and began to rub his back.
A sigh escaped Draco's lips. It was so nice. The heat of Harry was of a type that more than the body warmed the heart. It felt so good...
He looked up, at green worried looking eyes. "For me?" He thought, and found himself smiling faintly. How could this knucklehead made him feel much better than his best friend?
It was really a mystery.
He looked more closely.
But maybe it was not so much so. That unbrushable hair soft as feathers, his strength, not just physical or magical, that indefinable magnetism that enveloped you like a security blanket. The incredible green eyes that you could sink in, the fleshy lips...
And then, it happened.
He didn´t even realize what he was doing until his lips brushed Harrys.
And then it was too late to stop.
The first contact of skin against skin.
He shivered, the feeling of thousands of butterfly wings caressing his nerves. A sigh escaped their lips.
A flash of magic enveloped them like static electricity.
And there was no turning back.
Harry's lips gently pushed Draco's, which opened up without any other gesture. Opening with the timidity of those who don´t quite know what to do. This was not like all those times he had been forced. This was a gesture chosen by himself, it was an offer not made to anyone before. And Harry knew to treat it as such.
His tongue slipped inside to caress the tip of his, urging him to play, to go after him. Draco laughed slightly tickled. How long was since he had laughed at all? He followed Harry's tongue into his mouth. They stroked each other, drinking the other's saliva.
Harry's hands curled around his waist and down his thighs, caressing, exploring through the fabric of his tunic. Attracting the Auror, Draco sighed in his hair, caressing the curve of his neck, fingers twisting in the impossible tangle of dark locks.
And all the time the magic seemed to pulse, getting stronger and more consistent. A perfect melody, an unparalleled symphony. A meeting of tongues and hands, and bodies that sought each other through the fabric.
Draco fell back on the stacked pallets, and Harry followed covering him with his body. Kissing like there was no tomorrow, and maybe even if neither of them knew it, there wasn´t.
Harry slid his hands under the fabric of his tunic, lifting and twisting it until it was around the waist of Viely, and could observe the perfection of his slender long legs, and the hair almost translucent, smooth as silk, covering the cavity between his thighs, in which rested his most precious treasure, now half filled with pleasure.
"You aren´t wearing underwear." - Whispered half perplexed, breathing deep and sensual.
"No ... I´m not." – Draco barely murmured, flushed with an addictive mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. Almost involuntarily parting his thighs.
Harry's hands caressed and curled around his waist, and Draco moaned at the touch of the auror on the sensitive skin. Harry smiled slightly.
Vielys delicate hands slid under his shirt caressing nipples that stood up on the spot. Harry impatiently pulled his shirt up and threw it into a corner, without worrying at all about where it fell.
His skin was tanned by the sun, golden and expanded on a torso as defined, large and athletic, that compared to his, made Draco's look just like a too pale layer of skin on thin bones like a birds. And felt ashamed that Harry could see it.
He squirmed slightly under the weight of the Auror. It was like being under a blanket beneath a too high spell of heat, and it was too little and too much at the same time, and he attracted the Auror screwing him with his legs and arms. His cock pressed against Harry's pelvis and his own hard member encased by the fabric of his pants. The moan that was torn from his lips was almost like a plea.
"I want to make you mine." - The hoarse voice of Harry, bursting with desire, paralyzed him for a moment.
He was afraid. Those words had never presaged anything good. But the magic around them was like a whisper urging him forward, and the green eyes were so full, so intense and brilliant ... Draco didn´t know of what. Or rather didn´t want to know. He wasn´t ready, yet, to admit something so big and intense, even though his heart seemed crazy on his chest, wanting to leave, and his breathing was so ragged, that, for a moment, he feared not being able to respond.
"Make me yours." - The words left his lips in a breath.
And that was all it took.
Harry wanted to take his robe but Draco didn´t let him, and Harry respected that desire, burying his face in the perfect curve of his lower belly, and taking off his own pants and black underwear.
Harry licked the delicate skin with the desire of those who are starving, going down with kisses and licks until he reaches his goal, and stroked the length of Vielys cock with his cheek, tender and sweet.
Draco watched breathlessly, letting out moan after moan of pleasure filled disbelief, and when the wet appendage started stroking his entrance, and preparing him with all the devotion of a worshiper who makes a prayer, he thought he would cry for the incredible tenderness of the gesture.
He was ready, wet, squirming, sighing with pleasure, and all, all he wanted, was to feel Harry inside him. He needed him so much...
The magic was making Draco crazy with the delicate whisper of his presence, made him feel like a big emptiness inside that needed to be filled, that only Harry could fill. And that, was driving him mad.
The Auror positioned over his body.
Biceps taut, wet hair, the sexiest, predatoriest look he had ever seen, hypnotized him like a snake, pinning him under it. And then Harry began pushing gently and steadily, penetrating, taking, possessing and filling him as he had not been before.
He supposed he should be afraid, or at least feel some distaste for an act which so far had only brought pain and humiliation. But the truth, the real truth, was that he was tearing inside from pleasure and love. Merlin! Harry had begun to move.
Powerful onslaught after onslaught. Touching his pleasure centre with each one, making him moan, scream, writhe desperately. Lifting his hips to meet him every time.
Harry seemed a God of bronze sweat beaded skin, that had decided to make Draco his own against any force that tried to stop him. His breath came in explosive puffs of air, his muscles contracted and flexed like a horse in a race. His eyes were fierce, wild like a green flame. As the Avada Kedavra, as lightning. His lips claimed Dracos in a passionate last act of possession, and both exploded in an incredible wave of savage pleasure, rising, growing and growing until the magic roared in their ears like a gale and echoed in their blood like a mermaid song, and Harry´s semen flooded his insides like liquid fire, before the darkness claimed them both.
Ron was frustrated, well, actually, a lot more than frustrated. Why had the bloody elves to be so stubborn? Let's see, all he wanted to know was who had been taking food from the kitchen, and they acted as if he were asking for the secret of eternal life!
All quiet, and down ears.
He made a resigned sigh.
Ron wasn´t going to torture them to extract information, it was cruel, and verisaterum wouldn´t work with no humans ... so yeah. The ginger auror was very frustrated.
He took another kick at the pebble he had found on the floor, a few aisles back. Supposedly he was looking for Malfoy, but by now he was beginning to think that the ferret had died and that the guards tried to cover it up somehow. The reason wasn´t clear, but he didn´t believe that Malfoy was the one who had dropped Fenrrir into Hermione.
Let's see, who in their right mind will set loose a hungry werewolf, with oneself as the closer prey? Unless you had a wand, which he knew Draco hadn´t. He had no reason to do it. Which meant that the guards wanted Hermione dead, so she couldn´t find out something. But what?
He took another kick to the pebble, and was about to repeat the move when he turned the corner of the next aisle.
"…What?"
Kneeling on the floor there was a woman covered by a worn grey dress. It was of simple worn out cut, she seemed a maid. An idea that was reinforced by the soapy water bucket beside her. In his hand she held a cloth which with she was rubbing the floor. Her dark hair was so short it barely brushed her jaw, and her skin looked pale as ash.
She seemed to hear the sound of surprise, and looked up.
"Pansy Parkinson?"
The brown owl of MacGonagal looked up from one of the tiny hangers in the owlery of Azkaban, a bundle tied to her leg.
Hermione walked over to pick it up, one of the elves had just informed her of the arrival, and immediately decided to go for it.
"Good, Archimedes. Are you hungry?" - Offered some sweets to the owl to eat, while she untied the package and returned it to its normal size with a quick spell.
MacGonagal had apparently sent another book, and there was a note attached to the brown paper wrapping.
"Dear Hermione.
I am sending this precious volume only because of the urgency of the work that you are doing, and with the full knowledge that you know how to care for it as it deserves. It´s a magical tome containing all the knowledge of the one who created it, that only shows to ones with a clean heart who really need it. I hope you find it helpful.
Sincerely Minerva MacGonagal. "
Hermione, dragged by curiosity, broke the wrapping paper.
"My Journal" And was signed; "Godric Gryffindor"
Her breath choked a moment.
"The Journal of Godric Gryffindor ..."
Continue.