- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Characters:
- Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
- Genres:
- Romance Slash
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
- Stats:
-
Published: 03/30/2004Updated: 04/03/2004Words: 34,819Chapters: 23Hits: 78,050
Draco Malfoy and the Heart of Slytherin
Saber ShadowKitten
- Story Summary:
- At the heart of every Slytherin...
Chapter 13
- Posted:
- 04/03/2004
- Hits:
- 2,763
Chapter Thirteen: Azkaban
Draco Malfoy became the Prince of Slytherin for beating Harry Potter in
Quidditch. The novelty of it wore off after five days. It was impossible to get
anything done with people wanting to recant the game every time they cornered
Draco. Draco was exceedingly grateful when winter holidays began and almost
everyone left for home.
He was not grateful, however, to be awoken at dawn on the first day of school
break.
"Potter, you must have a death wish," Draco mumbled into his pillow.
"Perhaps." The bed shook as Harry bounced on the edge.
"Gah! Cut that out!" Draco pushed himself to a sitting position and glared at
the raven-haired annoyance.
Harry snickered at him. "Nice hair."
"Sod off." Draco forced himself not to try and smooth down his bed-head.
"What do you want?"
"We're going on a field trip," Harry told him, rising from the bed.
"A field trip?" Draco repeated.
"Yes. Hurry up and get dressed," Harry said as he started for the open
dormitory door. "I'll wait for you in the common room."
"Wait! Where are we going?" Draco asked.
"Azkaban."
*****
The Portkey deposited Draco, Harry, and Professor Dumbledore outside of the
wizards' prison, Azkaban. The prison was a gothic monstrosity; a crumbling
castle shrouded in shadow. Draco felt chilled. This was where his father had
died.
Draco glanced over at Harry. Potter stood close to Dumbledore, his face a
waxy grey color. The scar stood out in stark relief on his forehead.
"Ready, boys?" asked Dumbledore.
Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. Draco watched as the expression of terror
on Harry's face disappeared behind the familiar blank mask.
"Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore looked questioningly at Draco.
"I'm fine," Draco said dismissively, though his insides were tied in knots.
The purpose behind the field trip to Azkaban was to experience first-hand the
power of the Dementors. Dumbledore predicted that the creatures would be on the
side of Voldemort when he made his presence known to the world. Dumbledore felt
Draco needed to experience their effect on wizards in order to protect himself.
Harry came with for the same reason, even though he'd been in contact with
Dementors in the past.
Dumbledore led the way into Azkaban. The chill permeating Draco grew more
intense with every step. The inside of the prison was as foreboding as the
outside, with crumbling stone halls and dim lighting.
The professor spoke to someone at the front desk, and they were promptly
escorted down a long hallway. At the end of the hall was an open doorway and,
beyond that, a barred gate bisecting the empty room. Behind a protective window
set into the sidewall sat a wizard, whose job was to open and close the gate.
The visitors' escort spoke through the glass to the bearded wizard. "Call up
a Dementor to the gate, if you would, Virgil."
A tall, black-robed Dementor glided into view almost immediately. The hooded
figure stopped on the other side of the gate and made a hissing sound.
A strangled cry drew Draco's attention from the Dementor. Potter was sweating
profusely. His lips were pulled back in a snarl, exposing his tightly clenched
teeth. His eyes had rolled back so only the whites were showing.
Dumbledore quickly escorted Harry from the room. The prison official
followed, leaving Draco alone in the room with the Dementor. The wizard behind
the glass smirked maliciously. Slowly, Draco slid his focus back to the Dementor
behind the gate. Fear slithered down his spine as he waited for the Dementor to
act.
The memory of Posey Parkinson relating Lucius Malfoy's death suddenly sprang
to the forefront of Draco's mind. The emotions that Draco had felt the first
time hadn't lessened when repeated. However, if Dementors were supposed to show
their victim the most terrible experiences and this was Draco's... well, it was
actually a positive sort of torture. It proved that Draco had lived a very good
life up until his father's demise. He'd have to rub that fact in Potter's face
once he was sure the other teen was all right.
Draco forced his feet to move. The memory was still painful, despite the
positive outlook. He knew he was crying, though silently, as his heart was
bruised again. No matter what anyone else's opinion had been of Lucius Malfoy,
Draco had loved his father very much.
Professor Dumbledore was waiting alone in the hallway when Draco exited the
room. The elder wizard peered curiously over his spectacles at the Slytherin.
"Everything all right, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Everything's fine," Draco said as the Dementor's effects immediately began
to fade. "Where's Harry?"
"I sent him along back to Hogwarts without us." Dumbledore started for the
exit, with Draco at his side. "I believe you shall find him on the Quidditch
field upon our return."
*****
Harry was, as predicted, soaring on his Firebolt above the Quidditch field,
when Draco had gone looking for him. Bundled in winter robes, Draco watched
Potter circle in the air for several minutes before joining him.
It was chilly. The cold winter air burned Draco's cheeks as he kept beside
Potter. They flew silently together until Draco felt icicles hanging from his
ears. He was about to suggest heading inside when Harry spoke.
"I expected to hear Voldemort killing my parents," Harry said. "That's what
usually happened when a Dementor was near me."
"I take it this time was different?" Draco said, prompting the conversation.
After his own experience with the Dementor, he felt sort of bad for dressing up
as one and trying to scare Potter in third year. He'd only thought Harry was
afraid of them, like Weasley was afraid of spiders.
"I hadn't forgotten, but didn't really think about the fact that far worse
things have happened since third year." The wall that Harry kept between himself
and the rest of the world, only recently allowing laughter to escape, crumbled
completely. The purity of the pain reflected on Harry's face was exquisitely
beautiful in a macabre way, and Draco's breath caught.
"Cedric Diggory's death wasn't the worst thing that happened the last night
of the Tri-Wizard Tournament," said Harry, his voice like sandpaper rubbing
against glass. "That night, I also brought Voldemort back to life."