The Lovers of Azkaban

Disclaimer: None of the Characters from Harry Potter belong to me, they belong to JK Rowling.

Summary: Slash Harry/Draco. Sent to Azkaban together, the pair finds themselves immersed in the Adventure of their lives and in something else completely unexpected...

Chapter One: The Small Cell

When fighting darkness, trust is crucial among comrades; of course, that assumes one can distinguish comrades from enemies. Harry Potter began his chase of the constantly mobile Lord Voldamort with comrades, but by the end, battles and betrayals had so extensively thinned the ranks that he'd been left to hunt for the dark lord alone.

Occasionally the Order, an organization of wizards and witches assembled to fight Voldamort, would arrange assistance for Harry if there were loyal warriors in his vicinity. So it was on the day that he discovered Voldamort's lair. He was informed that the Order had a man on the inside; at least they believed they had. One of their own had been traveling with the dark lord for some time, and although he'd been out of communication for several weeks, they believed he could be thoroughly trusted.

Harry no longer rejoiced at the news that help was at hand. Despite the Order's assurances, often as not, such assistance would end in treachery and grave danger to himself. When provided with the name of the 'inside man' Harry was further dismayed. Draco Malfoy.

Harry knew Draco from his school days at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They had been arch enemies from day one, mainly due to Draco's propensity to champion the dark side. Draco had allegedly sought out the Order and recanted in the midst of the war; something Harry had not witnessed and found difficult to believe. It was more likely, he thought, that Draco's true allegiance was to Voldemort and any spying was for the dark lord's benefit. However, when he'd shared his thoughts with the Order, they had reaffirmed their faith in Malfoy and assured Harry of his loyalty.

As it turned out, Draco was Harry's only potential ally when he at last caught up with the dark lord. In that moment, both Voldemort and Harry had been obligated to place their trust in the Slytherin. But where Voldemort had faith, Harry had grave doubt.

Draco never once acknowledged Harry when he appeared in the cavern where the Death Eaters and their lord were gathered; he acted as shocked as the others when the green-eyed boy materialized, seemingly out of nowhere, within the dank, darkness of their temporary headquarters. Voldemort was surprised, but he was ready. He was always ready.

Things might have turned out differently if Draco had not acted quickly. Without once glancing in the Gryffindor's direction, He deftly caused a distraction that stalled the Death Eaters from immediately attacking Harry. Voldemort, as expected, took the opportunity to ensure he would fight alone with his 'victim'. That egocentric decision turned out to be the gravest mistake the Dark Lord would ever make.

In the aftermath of Voldemort's death, the Death Eaters bounded from the cavern. Harry's gaze fell upon the still figure of Draco; his exposed, bright locks singling him out from those scattering about him. Their eyes locked and only then did Harry truly believe the sincerity of Draco's allegiance to the Order. Something akin to a small grin was shared between them – briefly.

Harry had immediately sent word via his Patronus to the ministry, informing of Voldemort's death and the escaping Death Eaters. He then followed Draco outside. They hadn't gotten far before noticing a large group of wizards and witches heading toward them. Harry easily recognized the Minister of Magic leading the way. As Harry's eyes began searching the crowd he felt a wave of surprise overcome his senses. The men with the Minister were not Order members or ministry officials. In fact, some of them were known Death Eaters and others had been in the very cavern with Voldemort only moments before.

Harry looked quickly at Draco, whose creased brow evidenced a similar concern.

"Some of these men…they are not…" Draco began, but his voice wound down as Harry drew his wand. Stunned and confused, Draco mimicked his action against the oncoming group.

The Minister began shouting at once, his voice edged with danger as he demanded they stand down.

Draco, his wand steadily pointed at the Minister's head, loudly declared his belief that many of those with the Minister were confirmed Death Eaters.

The Minister opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, those around him began attacking Harry and Draco with curses - deadly curses. Fearing for their lives, the pair reflexively struck back.

The full breadth of Harry's power was largely unknown at that time, but within seconds all of those who had approached lay still on the ground before them.

That is when a second group arrived; these recognizable members of the Ministry. Their faces comically horrified as they took in the scene before them. A good number of wizards and witches lay dead and others, including the Minister, were making small movements, apparently on the brink of death. Harry and Draco stood above them looking slightly bemused.

The Minister's assistant ran to his leader's side and pressed his ear to the expiring man's mouth and listened as the Minister spoke his final words. He didn't last long and upon his death his assistant remained staring at him for a moment before suddenly standing and facing Harry and Draco with outrage. He pointed between them and began yelling that they should be detained for murdering the minister and all that had been with him.

Before they knew what was happening, the two were clapped in magic depressing cuffs and taken by force to the Ministry. Neither tried to fight what was happening to them, instead they tried in vain to explain what had happened. It seemed that no one was willing to listen to them. Harry demanded that the Order be summoned, but there was no response.

They were shoved into a small room before a hastily gathered tribunal of wizards and witches. What followed was a highly unusual and brief, private trial, in which they were condemned for the deaths of the Minister and those who had accompanied him. The tribunal declared they would 'verify' their claims that Voldemort was dead, but that would have no bearing on their decision for their murderous deeds. Ignoring their protests and explanations, the tribunal sentenced Draco and Harry to Azkaban for their crimes. Shortly thereafter they were apparated to an abandoned structure, far from the other prisoners within Azkaban and thrust together in a small cell.

The boys were nearly as confused as the rest of the wizard world. The news that Voldemort had been killed by Potter had reached the masses first, but their celebrations and lauding of the estimable hero was cut short when they were informed he'd been sent to Azkaban for killing the Minister of Magic. The Order and many of Harry's friends made regular inquiries into his fate and the seeming injustice of a quick trial without fair representation, but were told they would have to wait and petition the new Minister of Magic once he or she was elected to office.

Draco and Harry knew none of this. As far as they were concerned, their fate was to spend three years together cooped up in the small, detached space before gaining the solo cells where they would spend the rest of their lives.

Harry was aware that he could have used his power to stop the entire charade at any time. However, not without thereafter going on the run, quite possibly for the rest of his life unless the Order interceded. That was by no means certain; if they were not aware that those killed had been Death Eaters, he could not be certain of their aid. The fact that so many had died twisted his thoughts as he sat in silence on one of the beds in the cell; he stole a glance at his inmate.

Harry and Draco had a grudging trust for one another as a result of the events that had taken place, but their relationship was unhealthy. However, trust does not equate to friendship. They had been enemies too long for a moment in time to change that. While they were no longer enemies, they were certainly not friends. The sentencing judges had known from experience the possible outcome of placing cellmates together in Azkaban. Such an arrangement generally it ended in the death of one or both of the cellmates. The cooped-up environment would eventually take its toll and set the prisoners against one another.

The cell simply wasn't big enough for the both of them, as the judges had known it would not be. Harry and Draco treated one another with reserve the first three days; barely speaking and then only superficially about the war and its culmination. On the fourth day, a stilted conversation between them took an ugly turn when Harry intimated that Draco should have recanted earlier than he had. Harry blithely exclaimed that many lives could have been saved if Draco had merely had the guts to do the right thing sooner.

Pent up frustration found an outlet in Draco's immediate anger and he leapt forward at the words, striking the Gryffindor. They took their suppressed emotions out on one another; fighting with only war strengthened muscles. It is possible they would have continued to fight until one of them lay dead, but in the midst of the skirmish, a shove from Harry caused Draco's head to slam against the hard, stone wall and the Slytherin passed out. Both were left with nasty wounds; Draco somewhat the worse for wear due to his light head injury.

They had completely demolished the cell during their fight. Harry's bed was a bed no more, but a simple pile of sticks. The small table and the two small wooden chairs that had stood in the center of the cell had been reduced to shards and were scattered about the floor.

That evening the two young men retired, both still holding marks of the fight. Draco rested on his hard bed under his blanket and Harry rested on the stone floor with his blanket, ripped to shreds, pulled across his shoulders.

They continued in silence for three days under those conditions before an Auror finally led the pair, separately, to clean themselves. They returned to the cell and found the sticks had been removed, but they were still without a table, chairs and a second bed. Harry's shard of a blanket was also gone, leaving him to sleep on the stone floor, uncovered.

It was cold, very cold and Harry suffered the worse for it. Two days of angry silence and periods of sleep on a frozen floor finally took its toll on the Gryffindor.

The first time Draco saw Harry begin to shiver in his sleep, he thought it was a nightmare and ignored it. He hadn't had any nightmares as a result of the war and felt little pity for Harry. However, it soon became obvious that Harry was sick. Draco noted that the Gryffindor ate nothing for two days; merely drinking a small amount of the water provided on their food trays.

During those two days, Harry sat along the side of the cell wall, hugging his knees to his body in a seeming state of half wakefulness. When he slept in the evening against the hard floor, curled into a fetal position, the tremors seemed to grow worse and he'd awaken with his body covered in sweat. The sight caused something in Draco's heart to gladden; he began hoping that Harry would die and leave him the cell.

However, on the third day Harry didn't get up; he lay on the floor looking as if he really was going to die. Despite Draco's head telling him it was what he desired, something in his heart began screaming for action.

When the noon meal trays came, Draco called out to the attendant Auror, telling her of Harry's plight, but she ignored him. He ate in silence, unable to take his eyes from Harry's tray of untouched food on the floor before him.

Harry continued to shiver and shake and every tremor added to Draco's increasing frustration. Finally, unable to abide the sight of Harry shaking his way into the after-world any longer, Draco moved to where the Gryffindor lay, snatching up a bit of crust from the untouched tray as he went. He knelt down and pulled Harry toward him and held the bread under his nose.

"Eat, damn you!" he commanded.

But the Gryffindor lay trembling, seemingly incoherent. Draco found himself becoming angry. Angry with the Aurors for ignoring them; angry with Harry for getting sick; and angry at the resulting general helplessness he felt. He finally gave up and shoved himself into a sitting position against the wall, knees drawn up before him.

There was nothing to be done, he thought. No one cared, no one would come and nothing he could do would change that. He had no particular regard for the Gryffindor, but all of the suffering and dying was getting out of hand. The situation was growing absolutely bleak and he was useless.

When evening came and the cold with it, Draco moved to where the Gryffindor lay trembling and picked him up. It wasn't easy; Harry was like a dead weight in his arms, evidently having passed into a semi-unconscious state. Draco moved Harry to the bed and placed the blanket about his body, hoping that the shivering might stop. If anything, the shaking grew worse; the entire bed began to tremble. Incensed, Draco ran to the cell bars and began yelling for help, but his loud and very long tirade went unanswered.

Draco had no idea what to do; he'd never attempted to care for a sick person – or even an injured person without his wand. He ran his hands over his face and decided that perhaps more warmth would help.

His face resolute, he moved back to the bed and settled himself onto it; pressing his body against Harry's in an attempt to provide heat. He pulled the blanket tightly around them and felt a tinge of relief when shortly thereafter the shivers began lessening in frequency, and to Draco's mind, in aggressiveness as well.

Draco was somewhat surprised that his idea seemed to be working and hugged Harry's body a little closer into his embrace. His anger had abated; he realized that both of them had misdirected their fury upon one another.

They had been on the same side and shared the same goal; it was the Ministry that they should be angry with. It still boggled his mind that the Ministry had turned a deaf ear to their pleas of innocence. It wasn't entirely strange that they had ignored his protestations, but they had also disregarded those of their supposed hero, and only minutes after he had freed them of Lord Voldemort.

Draco finally managed to drift to sleep, although his hold on Harry remained sure. The next morning, Harry wasn't shivering anymore and the still body in Draco's arms sent a chill down his spine. It seemed as if he were holding a dead man and he quickly released the Gryffindor and jumped from the bed.

He pulled Harry onto his back and quickly pressed his head to the Gryffindor's chest. Relief washed over him when a heartbeat met his ear and he slowly stood up once more.

To Draco's surprise, Harry's eyes suddenly fluttered open. The emerald orbs met his own and stared at him unblinking and without emotion.

'I'm alive,' Harry said, his voice naught more than a hoarse, broken whisper.

'So you are,' Draco replied.

The Gryffindor still looked a little wane, but it was clear that whatever illness had overcome him had broken. Draco moved away from the bed and sat on the ground. He pulled up his knees, looped his arms over them and rested his chin against his hands.

'We can share the bed,' he said stiffly.

Harry didn't answer him.

They were going to be in the cell for three years – together, Draco thought wearily. Even if they managed to get along, sharing the small cell was going to be a miserable experience, perhaps even intolerable. The Slytherin felt his eyes begin to sting, but he refused to allow the tears to form; such a show of weakness on his part would be equally intolerable to him.

Harry remained in bed until their meal trays were shoved through the cell bars and the old ones charmed out. Draco watched as he slowly arose from the bed and made his way to sit near him, pulling one of the trays into his lap. Draco copied his action but didn't speak; there seemed to be nothing to say.

Harry indeed felt much better and he was ravenous. He ate too quickly and felt his stomach immediately sicken. It may have been the horrible food, but he thought it was more likely that he had eaten too quickly. He closed his eyes and almost reflexively sent a surge of power toward his stomach and the pain abruptly ceased. He shook his head a little; if only he could have done that for himself a few days before.

He'd grown very powerful, but self-healing was still touch and go for him. He had little memory of the sickness that had come over him, but he knew it had been bad. His efforts at healing himself had not taken hold; instead, the illness had taken hold while he slept.

His thoughts shifted to their plight. There was something about Azkaban…no matter how much was done to improve the dungeons…it would forever remain a life-draining hell hole. He had no idea how long it might take for the Order to free him, assuming they could, but he was certain that he and Draco could not remain trapped in this cell together much longer.

His ability as a wizard had reached its pinnacle during his fight against Lord Voldemort and he was still struggling to understand the full extent of it, but he knew with a certainty that he could use it against their entrapments.

'I can get us out,' Harry said aloud, his tone distracted and his eyes boring into the food on his tray.

Draco looked up with curiosity in his eyes, 'How?'

'I can release the cell door and we can go.'

Draco stared. 'Well do it.'

'Not now, when it is safe, I will.' Harry's voice was still emotionless.

Draco resumed eating. He began to think Harry was a bit delusional after his sickness. He had some notion of Harry's power; he had been present at the battle. But this was Azkaban and despite the fact that it was no longer run by Dementors, its walls remained heavily protected by complex spells. Draco was certain those spells were set to counter powerful magic - even the blackest of magic.

Later that evening, when the trays were taken and Azkaban lay quiet and still, Harry turned to Draco. 'Ready?'

Draco raised his brows, barely discernable in the growing darkness. However, he remained silent; there was certainly no harm in Harry making a futile attempt.

He watched as Harry looked at the heavy bars that formed the cell door with a fixed gaze. The Gryffindor appeared to slip into a trance; his eyes glazed over and his body was completely still.

The two sat in silence for about four minutes and nothing occurred. Draco was about to remind Harry that Azkaban was a fortress and that many before him had tried and failed to escape when Suddenly the cell bars began vibrating.

Draco jumped to his feet and stood staring at the door, his face awash with amazement as the bars gave a sudden shiver and then popped soundlessly inward.

'Come on' Harry said.

Still stunned, Draco slowly followed Harry; his brain trying to assimilate what had happened. He watched as Harry turned back toward the cell to close the door.

'How the-' began Draco.

But Harry cut him off, 'come on,' he repeated and began walking rapidly down the small hallway that sat before their cell.

It was as if everyone in Azkaban had died. They were not detained as they made their way through the building and out into the courtyard. No one stopped them as they crossed the large expanse of the courtyard and made their way to the heavy steel gate that sealed in the prisoners. More incredible, at least to Draco, was that they passed by what was clearly an office for the Auror guards without incident.

Harry led them to another gate, larger and heftier still and caused it to swing soundlessly inward. He passed rapidly through with Draco on his heels and began walking away from the heavily fortified fortress.

Harry walked quickly, leading them through a dark forest terrain. After what seemed hours, but was not in reality even one, they reached the shoreline and a great expanse of water stretched before them.

Draco had been looking worriedly over his shoulder the entire time and when they reached the shore he stopped in amazement. His spirits suddenly soared; he couldn't believe that they had made it as far as they had. It appeared as though they might actually pull off their escape.

Draco watched Harry move into the water and suddenly his spirits sank once more; he couldn't see an opposite shoreline from where they stood. The distance was likely phenomenal and they would likely drown before they made it half way.

Harry had already begun swimming; his strokes pulling him further and further away from where the Slytherin stood watching. The sound of a small creaking sound behind him caused Draco to suddenly jump into action. He raced into the water and began swimming frantically toward the Gryffindor's disappearing form.

His heart was full of misgiving until he realized that he'd rather drown than return to Azkaban. From that point forward, he began firmly driving his arms through the water with purpose. Draco finally caught up with Harry, who appeared to have adopted a leisurely pace toward the opposite shore. Draco stayed his pace for a moment and chanced looking back at the island, but it did not seem that they were being pursued. The Slytherin began swimming again, matching Harry's strokes and hoping not to tire and drown.

In fact, they did not drown and to Draco's surprise, they arrived at another shore before his muscles grew significantly tired. The two alighted from the water, breathing heavily, but none the worse for their effort. His confusion at having reached land from an island rumored to be extremely distant from any shoreline fled in the face of another dawning realization. They were free!

Harry turned to Draco, 'we are free,' he began, echoing the Slytherin's thoughts, 'but we are now escapees.' His tone was grave, 'Do not under any circumstances use magic or they will find you. Good luck.'

With that, Harry turned and began walking away. Draco's momentarily light heart fell back into his wet shoes. He had no idea where he was or where to go and the thought of re-capture was still quite fresh in his mind despite their momentary freedom.

Draco reached out and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, stalling his progress. He dropped his eyes when Harry turned to look at him and his voice when he spoke was barely audible, but violent and terse. 'I can't do it,' he said simply.

Harry understood at once; he'd half expected Draco's reaction, 'fine, come on then.'

Harry led Draco through a lightly wooded area, in more or less, a straightforward direction from the shore. Their clothes were long to dry in the night air and both boys found themselves shivering intermittently as they moved.

The pair eventually came upon a small deserted looking town. There was only one road dotted with a few buildings on either side of it, all of which appeared to be run down and abandoned.

Harry moved toward a building. It was some type of muggle store. He looked in the window and then turned to whisper at his companion, 'it's empty. We can stay here until morning.'

Draco nodded again, wondering how they would get in. He watched as Harry took hold of his prison robe and jerked it from his body. He wore dirty jeans and a dirty shirt beneath; gifts from Azkaban. He balled the robe about his hand and then socked in one of the windows to the store. The sound was loud against the quiet dark night and Harry grabbed Draco's arm and began running.

Harry moved them behind a nearby hedge and put a finger to his lips, staring at the store. All remained still and quiet; it seemed the town was truly abandoned. Harry finally stood and moved back to the window, Draco on his heels. The Gryffindor raised himself using the ledge of the window and jumped into the store. Draco did the same, but he cut himself against a shard of broken glass lining the window. Blood began trickling from the cut and he realized, with some amusement, that it bled from his dark mark.

Harry threw his robe to Draco, and the Slytherin wrapped it around the wound. Harry moved through the store and then got Draco's attention with his hand and motioned for him to follow.

Draco didn't speak; he knew they shouldn't risk it despite the stillness of the town. Harry led him to a door that had a flight of stairs beyond it leading into a dank, darkness beneath. Harry moved rapidly down the stairs and Draco followed, although a bit more cautiously. When they gained the bottom level, the darkness enveloped them.

Draco could not see a thing and jumped when he felt Harry's hand suddenly tug on his hand, pulling him downward to the floor.

Draco felt Harry lie down and he understood they were to sleep. The basement room was rather warm, but the air felt damp. Draco pulled off his robe and laying beside Harry he covered them with it. The last thing they needed was to become ill from the cold.

Draco's body relaxed into the ground and he noted that most of his earlier anxiety had fled. He vaguely wondered why a feeling of safety seemed to have come over him in the musty, blackness surrounding them; the circumstances certainly didn't call for it.