Harry woke up with a gasp, his scare pulsating like a live thing and Voldemort voice lingering in his ear.

The weak light of the rising winter sun rising managed to crawl through the small aperture in the wall of the fortress.

'What is it, Harry?' Bellatrix asked in a sleepy voice, trying to cocoon Harry back in the protection of her arms.

'Wait for me. As the sun sets today, I will come for you.'

Harry swallowed, rattled and unsure, before letting himself be drawn back into the thin warmth of Bella's bony frame. His head was spinning, with hope, disgust and self-loath.

He'd be sent to Azkaban because of Voldemort.

But he'd not remained in Azkaban because of him.

His stomach clenched painfully, as a vice screwed his heart.

Dumbledore had wanted him to stay locked in Azkaban. Because he was dangerous. Because he was a freak that needed to be locked up.

He knew it was the right thing. He could do the right thing. Call, scream, warn them.

They could catch Voldemort. Prepare a trap and get the monster for good.

The monster…

Around him, the fortress sounded as still and void as always, crushing him with the weights of its stones and magic. All he could hear was the shallow breath of the death eaters, and the sea assaulting the rocks.

He could try again, try again to reach out, be heard. Have hope.

Slowly he lowered his head, his eyes falling over the sharp, ink black skull tattooed onto Bellatrix wrist. The snake seemed to coil and shift toward him.

Have faith.

'It's nothing, Aunt Bella. Just a bad dream.' He murmured back, slowly closing his eyes.

Tonks spotted Harry and had to swallow to keep the bile that was rising at the back of her throat? The teen was seemingly asleep, nested against Bellatrix Lestrange. When she'd come across Harry's empty cell, she had expected some dreadful plot. But this… The too thin woman was draped over the teenager in a parody of maternal comfort and it twisted Tonks' heart to see how Harry seemed to be desperately clutching to her in his sleep.

He looked a little better than the last time she had gotten a glimpse, but still.

She had risked sneaking down before her evening round. Since she was expected to patrol the upper levels of the fortress in a few minutes her absence would not seem suspicious.

'Harry…' She tried to attract the teenager's attention without making too much of a fuss, but he seemed asleep. Bellatrix though, had turned two lamp-like eyes toward her and a wicked smile was starting to spread her lips. 'Harry!' Tonks hissed more urgently.

'Bellatrix,' a low voice called from the next cell, 'wake Potter up, he has got a visitor.'

Tonks threw a weary glance toward the nearby cell whom she thought was Dolohov. He was watching her with sunken eyes, fidgeting absentmindedly with his sleeve. He looked… Awake. On edge.

Tonks shivered.

There was a tension running through the fortress tonight thick enough to be sliced with a knife. As weird as it sounded the dementors had been acting … off. A storm was brewing and would be hitting the island soon enough. The pressure, cold and humidity were thick in the air.

'You shouldn't be here.' A young, sunken voice stated, making her jump.

Harry had silently dragged himself from across the cell to stand in front of her, a little away from the bars. Out of reach.

'You ought to leave.' Harry added flatly.

'Harry,' she whispered, grabbing the cell bars, 'Harry I don't have much time. I am here to pass a message.' She tried to get his attention, but his eyes seemed shifting, agitated. 'You need to keep faith,' she insisted, 'Dumbledore told me to say to you, he is doing everything he can. We are going to get you out of here.'

But even as she affirmed her message, she couldn't help to doubt it.

There had been no official procedures undertaken. Given the proofs against Harry in the Fairweather case, -and she could hardly bear to think about it herself-, the only way to get her cousin's godson to freedom would be to break him out.

To break Harry out of Azkaban.

She shook herself a little. They needed to trust Dumbledore. The old man knew what he was doing.

And today that meant passing her message to Harry.

'The Weasley, Ron and Hermione. Padfoot. They asked me to tell you, that they miss you terribly. We are all with you.'

Harry's breath hitched, his eyes welling up with tears. Despite the gloom she could still make out their distinctive greenish colour. It seemed mossy. A shiver wracked him, his breath coming short and laboured. He was going into a panic.

'Breath Harry,' Tonks advised, passing a hand through the bars.

But Harry jolted backward like a feral animal.

'When?' The teenager managed to bit out, his eyes downcast.

'Soon,' she answered fervently.

A few seconds of silence ticked, as Harry seemed to process her words. His breath calmed down and he raised his eyes to meet hers. The hardness in them hit her like a punch in the guts.

'Liar.' He denounced.

'Liar!' He accused.

All of them. Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione… Voldemort.

He had waited for the light to disappear, for the night to come, but Voldemort had failed him.

'Liar,' he spat, wrenching it from himself like his torn hope.

'Harry, wha-' the auror started…

Before a terrible impact shook the fortress.

'What's happening!' The woman shouted, over the noise of screeching stones and metal, drawing her wand.

Bellatrix started cackling madly, shoving herself against the wall to try and catch a glimpse of what was happening outside through the narrow overture.

Harry fell to his knees, pressing his hands against his ears to try and muffle the cacophony. There were blurs of dark colours passing in front of his eyes, and a pure exhilaration running through his veins that wasn't his.

He was afraid.

There was a second, ground shaking impact wracking the tower.

Suddenly there were hands grabbing him and dragging him to his feet. The young auror… Tonks? Had blasted open the cell door and was pulling him to a run.

'We need to get out of here,' she yelled as stones fell from the ceiling and dust smoked the corridors, blocking their vision, 'there is an apparition point up the tower, whatever happen, keep running up!'

Running up. She must have cast something on him because there was no way he'd have the stamina to keep running in his state otherwise, ducking and dodging the collapse of ancient stones on the way.

A curse passed right by his ear, and he heard Tonks swear.

'Keep running!' She yelled and pushed him forward another staircase.

Instinct kicked in, a mad instinct to escape and live, and he dashed out of the line of fire. Sounds of duelling crashed behind him, with mixed shouting. His heart plummeted in his chest and he kept running up toward the apparition point, razing walls and keeping to the shadows.

Someone would know.

Someone would come and rescue him from this nightmare.

'Harry…'

Everything was a blur of colours and sounds.

A silent prayer to Ron, Hermione… To Sirius, to know, to come for him…

'Harry.'

Cold crashed into him. His legs hurt, and he could feel the coppery taste of blood against his rasped throat. He had reached a circular room, with wide, open windows on all sides. The sounds of the battle were muffled and drowned by the battering sound of rain against the stones, and the cracking of thunder bleeding the sky. Illuminating the gutted shape of the fortress and the shadows flying around the sky.

Rain was slapped his face blown in gush by the storm. Everything was dark, disorientating.

A thin layer of ice spread from under his feet toward the edge of the platform, his breath coming in a rasped cold mist.

He felt so cold.

Slowly he folded onto himself, shivering.

The dreaded shadows of a dozen dementors appeared, floating outside the open tower. Coming closer. He could feel them feed on him, pulling from his core, tearing apart what remained of him.

A broken sob escaped him, as he clenched his knees closer to his chest.

'Harry,' the cold voice from his dream whispered into his ear. 'Why do you flee?'

Two green, wide and broken eyes opened to peek up.

Voldemort stepped from in between the dementors, seemingly obvious to their power. Cloaked in their darkness and power, commanding the same shadows as they did.

Harry was terrified. A whimper escaped him, and he tried to scramble back but only slipped weakly on the smooth dark stone.

Voldemort let out an amused chuckle, stepping toward the child. Revelling in the connection pulsating between them.

So alive. So powerful.

It tasted of victory.

'Hush child.' He soothed, grabbing the boy's chin and forcing his head up so that Harry would look into his eyes.

'Voldemort…' Harry whispered brokenly, his consciousness fading.

Carefully, like he would a delicate china doll, Lord Voldemort picked up the bone thin teenager in his arm. The boys head lolled on the side, a thin layer of frost already forming on his cheek, his eyes halfway open. A thunder bled the sky, revealing their bright, death-curse colour.

Beautiful.

A vicious possessiveness stabbed Voldemort. Harry was his. A beautiful gift from magic. To him who had gone further than any before him. His to keep and protect.

His to forge.

For neither can live while the other survive.

With a faint pop, Lord Voldemort and his ward disappeared from the platform, their vanishing shape the only thing witnessed by the late arrival of a wizened old wizard.

Always to late.

NOTE :

So, this is it! This was very cathartic to write, as I have been going through difficult moments when I started this piece, and it helped a lot. I loved writing this as I am always hounding some grim dark content and it was good to contribute. So all in all… Cheers?
Wish you all the best,
UA