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:
Dementor Kiss
Chapter 12 - Broken.
"So what´s a white dementor?"
"A white dementor is someone under the curse. Someone who is becoming one."
Mione had a terrible feeling.
"Does the curse need blood?"
"Yes. The blood of someone with a strong bond with the victim. A relative, or ...
"Or your best friend."
"The white dementor is Malfoy."
The sensation of skin against skin still accompanied him, as he walked through the dark corridors, in the silent early hours of the morning.
Harry couldn´t stop reliving every moment of the night before. The madness of kisses, fingers sinking into soft like silk flesh, arms and legs tangled in old sheets, of breaths mingling, the smell of dust and sweat and sex.
But more than anything, brighter than anything else, he remembered the confidence, the shyness and tenderness with which Viely had given himself.
He had clung to him as if Harry was the only thing keeping him afloat. He had sought his lips with the shyness of a novice, given his body with the absolute faint of a madman ... or a lover.
And had managed what no one had achieved before. Shake Harry to his very bones.
It couldn´t be said that the Auror had had a poor sexual life.
When he could no longer endure the solitude of his bed, there was always someone willing to fill it for a night or less. Normally a visit to a nightclub was more than enough for the purpose. He never lacked offerings.
But since leaving Ginny almost five years ago, nobody had interested Harry again, not that way. And even his relationship with Ginny, had been a little more like filial love, than like something he might be expected to feel for a lover. Precisely that had been the reason for the end of their relationship. That it couldn´t work that way.
For a while he had looked for some else. Someone who might make him feel something more than a passing interest and desire. But all the people he had been with had been disappointing so far.
The vast majority did not bother to try to know him.
Almost everyone thought they knew everything they needed to know about Harry Potter, having painstakingly read through any newspaper article related to the boy who lived.
Many were only interested in his money, fame or appearance.
And the few who didn´t, seemed to want to pity him for having to bear a fate as hard as the one he had to, without any choice. These were the ones who most troubled him. Because if there was something that Harry didn´t need, was being cared for like a fragile and delicate creature.
If he had learned something from his hard life, was, precisely, to take care of himself and others. At the end of the day everyone had expected Harry to save them. And today a day, at work, they required the exactly same thing from auror Potter.
And he loved it.
Knowing that he was helping people, that there were less criminal in the world thanks to him, less pain and suffering for others, filled him. It made the auror feel good and useful. Gave meaning to his life.
And so far there had been little more than that to it. But it had been a vague happiness. Incomplete.
Harry could be able to die for one who needed it. But he had never felt the need to live for anyone.
Until last night.
When Viely had given himself to Harry, completely.
That creature so delicate and fragile, broken and almost completely shattered, had clung to him as if Harry were the only thing in the world keeping him whole.
As if he were the centre of his existence.
He had entrusted Harry his life, linking it to him with the most sensual and erotic experience he ever had.
And that strange feeling, that wild fire, that relentless need to protect, that had been dancing inside his breath since he first saw the white one on the roof, had crystallized into a single emotion that had turned his world upside down, shaking it like a titanic powerful earthquake.
He had fallen in love.
When the alarm rang, telling him he should go to work, Harry had needed every ounce of his will to depart, as silently as a shadow, from the warm softness of his body. He had wanted to stay, confess his feelings, hug Viely and repeat the incredible experience of last night, never to be separated again. But he couldn´t ignore his responsibilities. Not when there was so much at stake. And Viely would be safe in the store.
So he had written a note.
A few lines that were repeated over and over again, until he had no time left, and finally had to write a note as simple as possible, reserving his feelings for when he returned to his side in the afternoon.
He couldn´t wait.
Pansy blinked for a moment, not quite sure of what she was seeing:
"Wesley?"
The slightly raspy voice of Parkinson brought Ron down from his surprise.
The red head took out his wand, pointing it menacingly at the woman kneeling on the floor, soapy rag in hand.
"May I know what are you doing outside your cell?" – He still wasn´t sure how was he supposed to act. Should he stop, and let the questioning for later?
"...Cleaning?" – Pansy lifted the cloth in a mocking gesture of doubt. Ron blushed like a teenager.
"That's not what I meant!" - In his quest to not look stupid he didn´t notice the shadow creeping at his back.
"Sorry kid, but it´s necessary."-A grave voice.
Ron turned how fast he could.
"What…?"
"Imperius."
Not fast enough.
"The white dementor is Malfoy."
Hermione massaged her temples and sighed. The multiple implications of what she had discovered were forming in her mind an increasingly macabre map. Something that if she studied thoroughly enough, she was sure, would give her the identity of the culprit.
"But first I need some coffee."
She was already almost two days without sleep, and was starting to feel the ravages of sleep deprivation. But even if she knew she should get some shut eye time. She also knew it would be a futile try. She will not be able to sleep, not with all that information still hovering inside her skull hunting for answers.
So Hermione got up and poured herself a cup of coffee from the thermos that were on the table. Sat by the fire with her hot cup, cradling it in his hands, and occasionally sipping its contents while she waited for everything to make some sense.
The sound of the door opening made her look back to see who it was.
"Good morning, Harry." - The black haired Auror seemed jubilant. Happy as she had not seen him in years. She sighed, Hermione hated having to crush his good mood, but Harry had to know what they were dealing with. For a moment she wondered what could have caused the incredible smile on his lips, but most pressing concerns pushed the issue to the background of her mind.
"Good morning Hermione. You look exhausted. Are you okay?"
His friend had her wild hair escaping right and left from the battered ponytail, dark circles under the worried gaze and wrinkled clothes. None of which was normal in her.
Harry poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped at it, looking worriedly at Mione over the rim of the mug.
"No, I guess I´m not. I haven´t slept in two days." – She waved his hand dismissively, and took another sip of her own cup, before dropping the bomb- "I have discovered what had been of Malfoy."
Immediately the atmosphere thickened in advance.
Harry sat on the mattress across the one Hermione occupied. Auror instincts alert. It seemed that, at last, they were going to progress in this mad research.
Mione took the diary from her bag and put it in his hands. The worn red skin was soft to the touch, the gold lettering clearly visible.
"The Diary of Godric Gryffindor?" – Harry looked at his friend questioningly.
"Yes. MacGonagal sent it yesterday. It contains valuable information ... about the Dementors." –
Harry frowned, puzzled.
"What has Malfoy to do with the Dementors?"
"Unfortunately, enough." - Carefully she put the cup on the floor. Suddenly she wasn´t thirsty anymore. – "The white dementor you told me about, remember?"
Harrys nod was almost imperceptible.
"Yes, I remember." - "Yes, I remember the feel of his skin and the taste of his lips. The tenderness of his gestures, and the perfect expanse of his belly."
"The white dementor is Malfoy."
For a moment he couldn´t catch his breath.
"Are you sure?" - At a basic and quite distant level, he knew his voice had sounded pretty quiet, and wondered how that could be even possible.
"Unfortunately, yes."
The following words of Hermione, explaining how she had learned the story of the Dementors, the implications of all this ... were like ice being poured into his stomach, accompanied by nails and fragments of broken glass. Luckily the chill left him insensitive to it. There was no pain, that would come later.
He felt numb, disconnected. He, still, could not assimilate what he was hearing.
Harry raised his hand to silence his friend.
"Hermione, stop." -His voice monotonous.
"Harry?" – He looked pale. Suddenly his best friends gaze, send cold chills down her back.
"I have to go." –Harry´s voice sounded dead, and he didn´t even look at her, as he rose and went to the door.
Hermione opened her mouth to ask ... but closed it without saying anything. There was something about the dark haired man that called to let him go, a thinly veiled warning.
When finally the door closed behind him, the soft thud reminded her of a coffin lid being closed.
"What has just happened?"
He was sitting on the pile of mattresses that served as his bed still scrambled by the passionate sex of last night. Looking towards the door, half hoping, half dreading the arrival of Harry.
Draco was terrified.
He had looked at all possible ways of telling the truth, and every one of them sounded horrible.
"Yes, of course it's going to sound horrible. I've been lying for weeks. How else could it sound?" –He thought sardonically, trying to give himself courage. – "But Harry has a good heart, surely, surely, if I explain he'll understand."
Harry was the epitome of the light by definition, right? He refused to think of any other outcome. If he did, he would not be able to speak.
Draco took the note from his pocket and read it again, eagerly. He had already lost count of how many times he had done this, memorizing the words, savouring them in his lips.
"I wish you were already here." - Sighed and refolded the note, putting the paper again in his pocket.
Suddenly, as called by his words, the door opened with a rusty groan and Harry appeared in the frame.
"Harry!" – He couldn´t help the little scream, half joy, half surprise, that escaped his throat. Draco got up quickly, and took a couple of steps toward the auror.
But almost instantly a feeling that something was wrong shook his thin frame.
He paused.
The Auror wasn´t responding, he couldn´t see his face in the dark of the hallway. Didn´t know what was happening, but something was terribly wrong.
"Harry?" - The question sounded pathetically weak even to his ears.
Finally the black haired man entered a few steps inside the store, enough so the light of the torches touched his face. An impassive mask of cold, the only alive thing in it, the green embers of his eyes that seemed to burn with a frosted flame.
"Viely." - The voice was sweet, kind, a moment later, a smile on his lips, and just a second later his arms outstretched to receive him, as if the brief image of statue had only been a momentary illusion.
Draco threw himself into the embrace. He didn´t want to see the tension in his muscles, the slight tightness of the smile, the almost invisible flame still hidden deep in the green. At that moment he just wanted to erase the chilling image from his mind.
He pressed his body to the broad chest, inhaling the pleasant smell of skin, soap and the shampoo with which the auror had showered that morning. Looking for the warmth and comfort that Harry always seemed to offer with his mere presence. But ... he felt cold.
"Harry?" - Looked up.
His hands, that had been ascending from Draco´s back to stroke his neck through the fabric of the hood... pulled.
The fabric slid of his head without resistance, and fell to his back. White blond hair brushed his so very thin shoulders.
"Malfoy."
Harry didn´t know what he had been expecting. A part of him still did not quite believe that the small dementor was Draco Malfoy. The ice layer around his heart was starting to break, and the pain under the shock was beginning to leak out.
Draco felt his heart would stop here and now, but mysteriously it continued beating.
For a moment everything seemed frozen, static, in a second of growing horror, until the silence stretched so much the air itself seemed a breath from breaking.
"You've been lying to me." - The harsh words broke the spell of immobility, and the world started turning again at breakneck speed. This couldn´t be happening.
The mask was back and this time the icy flame in Harris eyes could rival the Avada Kedavra.
Draco felt his heart gave a lurch and his breathing hitch.
"Did you think you could use me to escape Azkaban?" - The cold, calm question, was even more terrifying than if it had been shouted.
"I ... I just ... "– his heart gave another lurch, and Draco had to hug himself to avoid bending in pain.
Harry's hand closed around his jaw forcing him to hold his gaze.
"Answer me!"
The green eyes were poisoning. His heart tore a little, and Draco tightened the grip around his ribs, trying to keep it whole. Held the horrible stare as best he could, but it was like being forced to swallow cyanide.
"I just wanted out. - His voice cracked so very delicately. – You don´t know how it´s to live here, this place is hell, Harry ..." -pleaded with his eyes. The increased pressure in his jaw shut him painfully.
This time the words were a dangerous hiss.
"Do not ever call me by my name Malfoy, you and I have never been friends."
Draco nodded weakly, eyes glassy with tears he dared not pour. His heart was breaking under his fingers.
"You're a Death Eater, a slag, and you deserve to rot in a cell for all the damage you have done to others."
"Hatred is green." The blond thought. Saw it in the cold glow of Harris eyes. His legs buckled and he did not understand how it was that he was still conscious, despite the unbearable and horrible pain in his chest. He could well envision the bleeding and torn edges of the hole where his heart should have been, a space now occupied by a few patches of battered and barely alive membrane.
"I ... I´m innocent." - Just whispered, tearfully.
"Do not make me laugh." - The voice impassive, frozen, authoritarian.
Draco had not even realized when the auror had took it out, but now he could feel the tip of the wand pressing at his throat.
"Walk."
"…Where?" – It was like dying inside.
"To your cell."
Tears rolled down his ashen cheeks.
The path to his former cell was a nightmare of grief. Harry's presence behind him, the carnage in his chest, tears in his eyes, the sound of their footsteps on the cold stone floor.
The small and depressing space had not changed at all. The door opened like welcoming Draco, and Harry had to give him a little push to make him take the final step. He fell to his knees, his legs finally giving in to the desire to collapse. His hands closed around the bars.
Harry had already turned away, but...
"Surely ... surely this is the last time I will see him." The words were stuck in his throat, wanting out. "If this will be the last time ... then, then ..."
"I love you." - The little voice, sad, broken, lost, made Harry stop for a moment.
"Harry ... I ... I'm in love with you."
"I told you not to call me by my name." - That was the only answer. He did not even turn and look at him, just left.
"It's so cold."
And then, darkness.
It will continue.