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: In the end, Harry loves Draco so very much. ^^ Um… review, please? (insert puppy like eyes)
Dementor Kiss
Chapter 13 – Vertigo
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.
He felt cold.
Not something uncommon in Azkaban´s environment, where the temperature was so low, but... this felt like so much more than that; An unpleasant feeling in his gut that turned blue his lips, a chill inside his very bones… as if Hermione, with her words, had made him swallow liquid nitrogen, sip by sip, until he couldn´t take a drop more.
Everything inside had turned cold and hard. Unfeeling. His lungs, his stomach... his heart. Specially his heart.
He couldn´t feel anything.
Since leaving the guards room nothing had seemed able to pierce the ice that surrounded him. Only seeing Draco's face had penetrated, for a moment, the cold surface, and the pain had been like being gouged with a knife. Immediately, anger had emerged as an instinctive reaction, and the gap in the frozen wall had been covered by the icy flame of hate.
After that, the utter contempt lined barrier had been the only real thing. Everything else seemed too distant, inconsistent, and utterly unable to touch him.
At some point, Harry had the notion of thinking he didn´t want to return to the guards room, and, instead had somehow ended up here, in the tiny Owlery of Azkaban.
A small round room, lined by a couple of shabby windows, from which the poor light of the cloudy day, filtered, and touched the dirty and covered with straw floor. In the dozen old and rusty hangers stuck to the walls, the owls stared at him with wide eyes; Hedwigh, Archimedes, and a couple more, one of which seemed as old and sickly as the room itself.
His white friend glared at him, leaving clear what she thought of the depressing space. Hedwigh hated living in places as dirty and small as this, and Harry knew it well.
"I'm so sorry Hedwigh, but you'll have to wait a little longer." – The auror muttered, leaning against the door. So very bone tired…
Everything here looked quiet, old, sad... like Draco.
"What ... has just happened?" – Harry felt his body sliding down the wood of the gate, until he found himself was sitting on the floor. It was like he had been sleepwalking, and was now waking up… His body felt heavy, his mind sluggish, his hands trembled sprawled in the floor.
Slowly, what had happened was really beginning to enter his awareness. The ice produced by the shock, starting to melt.
A pang of pain blossomed in his chest, shaking all his body, like being struck. And Harry folded up his legs, embracing them with his arms, so he could rest his forehead on them. Protecting himself, however he could, from every new lacerating memory that was cropping up, one after another inside his mind.
Hermione's voice ...
"The dementor's curse is the origin of the Dementors."
"... Reserved only for the darkest and most corrupt criminals..."
"... Forever trapped in a living hell ..."
"The white dementor is Malfoy."
"It can´t be."
The auror hugged his knees tighter, fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs. Blood trickled from the corner of his lip, where he had bitten to avoid giving voice to the agony. His heart pounded in a mad suicide race, every beat becoming a new lash of agony. The ice melting faster and faster, his freezing protection falling apart, forcing him to remember.
"The white fabric of the hood slipping, falling, releasing hair as bright as silver. Light eyes, surrounded by delicate, mauve, dark circles. So large, so sad…"
"Malfoy."
The feeling of having been used.
He made a strangled sound of pain.
The notion of having been deceived.
He shivered as if he had been trampled.
The instant when he finally reached the realization that it was all a lie, that ... that every word, every gesture, every kiss, probably only had been just a way to escape devised by Malfoy... that the blond actually... didn´t love him...
Tears began to escape from between his lashes, trails that burned like acid.
But there had been more. Where it not? The memories seemed somewhat hazy.
"I just wanted out. - His voice broken – You don´t know how's life here. This place is hell, Harry ...-the pleading in his eyes ..."
"... I´m innocent. - The words barely perceivable through his tears."
The voice broken, sad, shattered, lost…: 'Harry ... I'm in love with you."
He cursed silently. Cursed because in spite of everything, he, still, desperately wanted to believe in those words.
Cursed his stupidity for falling in love with Malfoy of people, cursed himself for not being able to forget that night, for wanting Draco still, because even after all the shit, deep down, he wanted to believe that the person he had met, the person he loved beyond logical reason, had to exist. Harry wished there was a way to keep the blond ... An idea flashed through his mind. Poorly defined, more a desperate desire than anything else. But the more he thought about it, the further it attracted him. He knew it was crazy. But when some craziness had ever stopped him before?
A sad little smile appeared on his lips.
"I should be used to fate wanting to fuck me. - thought half ironically. - But for once in my life, I have the right to want something just for me." Harry broke the embrace on his knees, and took a deep calming breath. - "Draco Malfoy may not be exactly the best person in the world, but apparently he is the only one able to make me feel alive. And damn if I'm going to give it up!" -The brightness returned to the green gaze, with the same brilliant and powerful presence of lightning.
Looking up he realized that Hedwigh has descended beside him, looking at her master worriedly. The auror stroked the soft feathers of her head.
"I'm fine girl, you do not have to worry about me."- Not anymore.
Harry stood up, and wiped the blood from his lips with a hand wave and a whisper of magic.
"You don´t know what´s coming for you Malfoy."
With a wave of his wild red coat, the Auror left the room.
(Hermione)
After Harry was gone, she had been left with a very uneasy feeling. And for a while had debated whether she should try and go talk to him, but finally decided waiting was the best option. Give it a few minutes for Harry to calm down, before trying to tackle the issue. But… at some point in those minutes, the sleep she had been previously awaiting, had come unexpected, and caught her, finally making Hermione take the much needed nap. Her body half lying on the pallet, thrown on the floor.
The sound of the door closing woke her.
"... Harry?" - The exhaustion had turned her arms and legs to butter. Mione yawned, and had to make a real effort of will to just sit in the mattress and look at her friend.
Harry had just entered the room, all heavy steps, wildly disheveled hair and firm set jaw. The state of his clothes, just as hers, was a poor cross between wrinkled and sleeped in, that seemed to say neither of them had had a good day. Even if his auror coat looked even worse, invaded as it was by straw.
But the look, rather than make him into some dirty and shabby man, gave him an indefinable aura of unpredictable danger.
But what really finished waking her, was the determination printed on his face. The green glow of her friend's eyes was infused by a new intensity, a ravenous flame, that seemed shaded by a sense of pride she hadn´t watched since the end of the war.
"Did something happen?" - Was the first thing that came to her lips.
Harry offered his hand helping Hermione to her feet.
"Only that I caught Malfoy. He´s in his cell." - The tone was cold, and not quite indifferent. A deception attempt. But Mione knew him too well for it to deceive her. Something, something very intense had happened to his best friend. And it made her frown. Because… what had it to do with Malfoy?
"That's good, we can interrogate him and get the case over with. But Harry ... you're hiding something. What happened to you? You look ... you ... – Mione sought the right words without finding them. - Well, you don´t look yourself.
"There´s nothing to worry about. Let me take my own decisions, -Hermione frowned- just… don´t pry okay? – The male auror looked at her defiant. There was something he wanted with a desire so intense, with a longing so great, that if he had to fight to get it, he would do it against anyone, even his friends. Although he hoped to make them understand, before something like that was necessary.
Just, not now.
Hermione saw something in her best friend… She didn´t know what exactly, but the message was pretty clear: Leave me be. She sighed, and decided not to press for now, they had a prisoner to deal with first. But when they were finished, it would be time to talk with her best friend, know what had happened to him, and decide if he needed help, or no.
But not now, they had priorities to attend to.
"All right. – She resigned herself for now-but take care, okay?"
Harry smiled his typical big not quite bright, smile.
"Don´t worry. - "I've already taken all the damage I could." - ... What are you doing?"
Hermione finished revolving in her backpack and pulled out a small glass bottle, filled with a very translucent liquid, like water.
Verisaterum.
"You said Malfoy´s caught, No? Let's finish this already." - Hands on hips, hair in all directions, she looked like a real lioness hunting for prey.
"Gryffindor through and thrown, e?"
He couldn´t help smiling.
"Come then."
The prisoners in this section seemed more scared than usual.
Those who still had some remnant of will, had sought refuge in the far corners of their cells, as far away from the bars as they could. Like trying to hide from someone, or something.
"I don´t like this." – Harry said in a low whisper. Raising his wand defensively, while still advancing shoulder to shoulder with his friend.
"Me neither." - Hermione muttered. There was an unnatural chill in the air, an oppressive feeling, a darkness too deep lurking in the shadows. What had caused this?
"The Dementor Lord."-Harry hissed.
"What…?"
"The Dementor Lord. He has been here. Don´t you feel it? The wrongness? The weight in the air, the cold, the lack of light? This is what he causes wherever he goes."- Latent hatred lacing his voice.
Hermione wondered why Harry seemed to have so much animosity against the Lord, but didn´t ask.
"So he´s here?" - She was curious to see the creature the traitor son of Godric Gryffindor had twisted into. But maybe not so much as to actually seek him.
"No. I don´t think he´s near. The effect seems to be fading; it doesn't feel half as strong as it should, had he been in the vicinity." - The Dementor Lord here, so close to Malfoy's cell ... What had the monster been looking for? Harry remembered all too well the golden needles, the cuts, the bruises. Cries, wounds, blood, tears… His blood felt like molten lava. He couldn´t define the exact feeling? Hate? Fear? Jealousy?
"Maybe a little of all three. What I do know, is that if he has touched Malfoy, he´s going to want being able to die." – The dialogue emerging as a furious internal parssel hiss.
The closer they came to Draco´s cell, the worst the state of the prisoners was. Just a few meters from the place, their reaction had gotten so bad, that more than one had pissed himself in terror.
The two aurors moved like silent shadows, carefully examining their surroundings, spells on their lips, muscles tense in anticipation. Looked at each end of the hall, but there wasn´t a trace of the dark lord. After ascertaining that there was no danger, finally they arrived at the cubicle...
The door was open, and the tiny sad space, empty.
Harry felt something squeeze his heart.
"Harry look at this." - On the stone floor, just a few scattered drops of blood gleamed in the dark. – "Were he hurt when you brought him in?" - The blood seemed fresh, just starting to blacken in the dryness of coagulation.
Harry delayed one moment, needing the time to actually take a breath.
"No, he was fine." – He couldn´t remember exactly how Draco was brought here, but had the notion of not having touched him. It seemed impossible that he had resorted to physical violence, against someone for whom he felt something so strong.
Which meant that, either the blood was from someone else, (something very unlikely) or someone had hurt Draco. He remembered the last time he had seen blood in Draco. Needles... The ground seemed to vibrate for a second.
"Harry?"- Hermione looked at him bewildered. It had been years since she saw Harry lose control like that, on his magic.
"Hermione ..." - hissed through clenched teeth.
Suddenly, the sound of approaching cut the moment, with the knowledge that someone was advancing towards them. Immediately the two aurors took in a combat stance, just as a slight figure cut out from the shadows.
The torches lit Pansy´s black hair, her worn and dirty gray dress, her pale, panicked, determined face. Parkinson moved against the wall, clutching at the stone in search of something to sustain her from falling to the floor, limping, exhausted, but not giving up. As if her life depended on it.
She staggered at seeing them, strength failing her frail looking body, and finally collapsed just feet's from the aurors.
They approached carefully, alert to any trick.
"Parkinson? Pansy Parkinson? - Hermione hadn´t even been aware, of the presence of the other woman in Azkaban. She didn´t think her school fellow would have been sentenced so harshly, even if she knew Parkinson was marked.
"Granger ..." – The woman seemed about to fall unconscious. Both Aurors recognized the effects of a prolonged cruciatus. Muscle contractions, ashen pallor, and unfocused gaze. Her short black hair didn´t really disguise, the swelling that was taking place on her forehead.
It was amazing that she was still conscious. Pansy´s eyelids fluttered spasmodically, she should have been knocked out, but seemed to be staying awake by pure strength of will, totally desperate to say something. But she didn´t have enough breath.
"Calm down, take some air." - Hermione said kindly.
"You ... have ... to ... help ... help him."- Coughed. Little, calloused hands gripped the blouse of Mione, trying to stay awake, to take her as an anchor.
"Who needs help?" - Asked Harry, hurriedly. He had a very bad feeling, that grew second to second.
"D ... Draco. Tomas has ... taken. Pl ... Please." – Pansy´s voice broke in a sharp note of urgency, supplication. The Auror realized she was about to lose it.
"Where?" - Asked immediately. Parkinson seemed unable to hear, or powerless to speak. – "Where has Tomas, taken him?" – Harry crouched in front of the hurt woman, forcing her to look at him. -"Answer dammit!"
"A ... to ... - closed her eyelids finally - to ... his ... room. - Muttered. Her body went limp, half collapsed over Hermione though still barely conscious.
"Kreacher!" - The old elf appeared instantly at the invocation of his master. – "Take her to the guard´s room; watch her, care for her, and don´t leave her side regardless of anyone else trying to make you go." - Harry didn´t wait to see his orders fulfilled. Hermione stood with him.
No doubt in them about who had been responsible for the curse thrown at Parkinson. Neither came to hear the last words of Pansy.
"Ron ... you ... need ... care ... cr ... R.. N ..."
The room was tiny. It barely contained a few old painted furniture pieces; A closet, a table in a corner, a chair, and the bed.
Everything else was bare stone walls without windows, and some photos here and there, that talked about the days when he had a family, and a future.
But the cheerful man who was in them had long since died, overcome by anger, rage and hatred. Now what was left of him, lived to take revenge. Only when in the middle of punishing the one he saw as culprit, he felt alive, in a perverse, dark, yes, but intense way. It was what he wanted. He didn´t need anything else.
But tonight was the last time Tomas would be able to indulge in the sweet sensation. The Dementor Lord had made it clear:
"I'll give him to you, just for tonight. Break him, shatter him, make sure he loses all hope. But remember; he belongs to me."
The guard knew the dark Lord hated sharing. This prize was probably only a punishment for Malfoy, and nothing else. But Thomas would seize every moment of it.
He went to the bed.
Draco hadn´t yet ceased to sob.
Harry´s rejection had hurt more than anything he had ever experienced. The torture, rape... nothing had ever hurt as much as this. It was as if someone had ripped out his heart and soul, and left the shell, broken and bleeding of his body, to be habited by a sad and wrecked conscience.
The hatred Draco had seen in those green eyes, had broken him inside. And he no longer had the strength to do nothing but cry.
Every drop that slid down his cheeks was a drop of blood in his heart. A little reminder of what was lost. A small demonstration that he was, still, alive. While he breathed, he could never forget Harry, while some life remained in him, he could never stop loving the auror. So while he continued in this world, he could never stop mourning what was lost.
He didn´t even resist when the Dementor Lord offered him to Tomas and had been driven into his arms, limp as a doll. Only the tears had shown he was still conscious.
When they reached the guard room, and Tomas placed him on the bed to undress his trembling body, he accepted it, sobbing.
Now he knew for sure that he was never going to get out of this hell.
Harry had become the center of his world, and at leaving had left him with nothing to hold into. All that was left of Draco´s will, had collapsed at his words:
"You're a Death Eater, a scum, and you deserve to rot in a cell for all the damage you have done to others."
For seven years he had sustained his strength in his innocence. He had not killed anyone, had not participated in the war. Was innocent! But he really was? Could someone who was hated so deeply by him, really be innocent? He did not know.
Perhaps the mere fact that he accepted the Dark Mark, made him guilty. His father had been a monster, and he had known, but had not said anything. How much could have been saved if he had spoken? Perhaps he had not killed anyone directly, but had let dozens be slaughtered by Lucius without lifting a finger.
He felt disgusted with himself.
For the first time, he felt he deserved all this pain.
Draco closed his eyes as more tears slid from them, and ended soaking the pillow on either side of his face.
Suddenly Tomas mouth took his, square teeth nibbling at his lower lip. When it became obvious the blond would not resist the assault, a tongue slid inside, looking for the wet cavity of Draco's mouth.
Inert, he let his saliva mix with the guards. Every touch reminded him of Harry, of his kisses, that were not at all like this, the auror lips were warm and sensual, and made him feel loved and wanted. All the opposite of the freezing cold, that was causing Tomas. He felt used, disgusted, nauseated, and the worst was that he felt he deserved it.
It hurt.
His soul hurt.
Frustrated by his passivity and lack of response, Tomas twisted one pink nipple between his fingers, but it was like trying to breathe life into a porcelain statue. Draco seemed frozen.
The only sign that his soul was still there, were the tears that hadn´t ceased to drip.
"It seems that, in the end, we managed to break you? E?" - The fetid breath in his ear was painful only because it came accompanied by the memory of a deep, warm voice, full of passion.
The guard smiled.
"It seems is time to completely break you. Don´t you think? - The sound of a zipper being opened… Draco closed his eyes, unable to take it.
"Harry." He dared not ask for help, not even in his thoughts.
Calloused hands on his thighs, separating them, a positioning body over his, an unwanted weight on him, crushing him, sinking him into the mattress.
"That's it Malfoy, take it, you know you deserve this." - Tomas's voice leaked lust and venom.
He sobbed weakly.
Draco felt Toma´s cock touch his entrance and wanted to die here and now. He couldn´t take this, he couldn´t. Not after experiencing what was making love. He was going to break…
"Harry ..."- He sobbed.
The guard's fingers dug into his hips holding him in place...
And the world exploded.
The ground shuddered as if shaken by an earthquake, the cabinet fell and splintered on the floor, the table and chair were crushed by an invisible force. The photos shattered. A wave of murderous magic swept the room; crushing, slashing, destroying everything. And the bed seemed to be the eye of the hurricane. The sheets flapped in chaos like wild beasts.
He heard Tomas scream, as his weight was suddenly and brutally ripped off him.
Draco opened his eyes.
A god with avada like eyes had entered the room. A God who had claimed his soul and heart.
Harry.
The magic surrounded him, obeyed him, came from him. Flamed in his wild black hair, undulated in his blood red coat, and reflected in the murderous glow of his eyes. His power was immense, oppressive, savage.
Harry was powerful enough to take the very air from his lungs.
Draco felt his heart stutter.
Harry had taken Tomas by the throat, suspending him in the air as if the guard weighed nothing. Squeezing his neck, as he watched with great satisfaction, how the guard struggled to breathe. Potter looked like a vengeful deity just taking payment for crimes committed.
Draco could not help the little, desperate, sound, that escaped his lips. Like a plea, like a pray.
"Harry…"- He needed ... it was so ... so painful to be hated by him ...
Harry glanced at him, alerted by his voice.
Tomas's body slipped from his hand onto the floor. And before Draco could realize what was happening, his lips were being taken, his body trapped under a much more loved one. The magic roaring around them like a victorious shout.
"Harry ... I love you."
Continue.