On the Precipice

Ahem... mind the tags.

Harry knew it was too much to hope that Burke would be too embarrassed to ever return. Yet it still managed to surprise him when Burke stormed towards their cells. He didn’t expect the amount of anger Burke was displaying. It was a sharp contrast to the mood that the prisoners had been in just before.

Harry spent the morning reviewing and learning new transfiguration spells. He was enjoying these lessons immensely. He didn’t mean to be disloyal to McGonagall, but Lucius had inspired him to take the subject more seriously. It helped that Harry had a clear view of the man so any demonstrations he did never had to filter through the other prisoners first. There was a fluidity to these lessons that Harry found somewhat lacking in the other subjects.

Of course, there was also a downside to Lucius having a clear view of Harry. The man had taken to squeezing in etiquette lessons. So far, he mostly nagged Harry about his posture. He was constantly reminding him to sit straight or stand a certain way when casting spells. Harry wouldn’t admit it, but the wand movements did feel more natural when he stood the way Lucius suggested. This was the reason he entertained Lucius in what Ron would have called ‘high society bullshit’.

When Burke stormed in, he interrupted their lunch where Lucius was insisting Harry hold his spork (the only utensil Azkaban provided) in a more “dignified” manner. He was also suggesting how much food ought to be picked up and eaten at a time. Lucius was disappointed he didn’t have a full range of utensils to show Harry how to “eat properly”. Harry found that his posture, portion control, and the placement of the spork in his hand was more than enough as far as these etiquette lessons should go.

“I feel like a prat,” Harry complained as he brought the food to his mouth and tried to chew “delicately”.

"Be glad he can't dress you like a proper young wizard, because you’d look like a prat too," teased Mulciber.

"Just because you look like a pauper," sneered Lucius, "doesn't mean the rest of us-”

Before he could finish reprimanding Mulciber, the door at the end of the hall opened. Almost immediately Burke’s angry voice shouted out.

“You bastards!” he said as he stormed towards them, “I know it was you fucking twats!”

“What’s that now?” asked Albert innocently as Burke came to a halt by the man’s cell door.

“I know you’re the one that sent me that, that, skunk plant!” Burke hissed.

“Is that what that smell is?” asked Albert as he made a show of leaning closer to Burke, exaggerated a sniffing noise, then wrinkling his nose. “Oh dear,” he continued, “it seems like you didn’t wash it all off.”

“So, you admit it was you,” pushed Burke as he brandished his wand in Albert’s direction.

“How? You may have noticed I’m stuck in Azkaban,” Albert gestured around him.

“As if I didn’t know you’ve seen your judicial-wizard. You got that snake to send it,” Burke’s face had grown increasingly red as he accused Albert.

“Oh, I’m sure you must have admirers outside of this place,” Albert misdirected. He said it innocently enough but could not contain his smirk.

“I know it was you and you’re not getting away with it,” Burke vowed before ordering “hands against the wall!”

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, suddenly worried for Albert. Burke snarled at Harry. It took him a moment to fully register Harry’s concern, but when he did, Burke relaxed enough to send a nasty smirk his way.

“I’m going to repay Nott for every hour I had to endure that smell,” Burke promised ominously. Lucius hissed at that. When Harry looked over at him, Lucius was glaring powerlessly at the guard. Harry didn’t know what Burke meant, but Lucius’ reaction was enough to tell him he wouldn’t like it.

“Hands against the wall!” repeated Burke. Albert very reluctantly complied.

“You can’t do anything. You’ll get in trouble again,” Harry tried to reason with Burke.

“Shut it, Potter, I’ll deal with you next,” Burke promised. He spelled Albert’s cell door open and stepped over to the prisoner. Burke pushed Albert into the wall before spelling the man’s hands to lock behind his back.

“Let’s go,” Burke pushed Albert out of the cell. Harry fearfully looked between the two. He remembered all too clearly what happened to him the last time Burke dragged him out of his cell. Whatever Burke planned was likely to be painful and humiliating for Albert.

“You know they’re watching you,” Harry felt he had to try to stop this. “Whatever you have planned won’t go over well when-”

“Oh, save it, Potter,” Burke snapped. “I’ve been reading all about your innocent victim spiel. It’s dragonshit. I’ve already told the reporters that you’re guilty and getting what you deserve, just like everyone else,” he punctuated that statement by jerking Albert’s arm. He glared at Harry before adding, “it’s just a matter of time until they see it too.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond. Hale’s plan might be working for the moment, but the public was fickle. Yet, Burke wouldn’t be so upset if he wasn’t worried about Hale succeeding and painting Burke and the ministry in a negative light. As much as Harry wanted their plan to work, he didn’t want Albert to pay the price.

“The boy has a point,” Lucius stepped in. “You’re under as much scrutiny as the ministry. You should consider how this will blowback on you.”

“Stay out of this, Malfoy, unless you want a turn too. I can make a day of it. Nott, Potter, you,” he threatened and tightened his grip on Albert even more. “Anyone else? Crabbe? McNair?” Burke paused long enough to ensure no one else was talking back. “I thought not,” he sneered.

Burke calmed down somewhat once he realized his threats were working. His face wasn’t as red with anger as it had been just moments ago.

“Move,” he ordered and pushed Albert to get him moving. Albert stumbled at the action but quickly righted himself. He frowned but started walking as directed.

“Stop,” Harry said helplessly as the two men started leaving.

“I’ll be back for you soon, Potter,” Burke promised.

Harry looked to Lucius even though he wasn’t sure what he expected the man to do. Burke clearly wouldn’t listen to reason. They had no other recourse. Harry flinched when the door at the end of the hall opened and closed again.

“What is he going to do?” asked Harry. He was feeling worried and guilty. Burke was only going after Albert because the flower. Albert had only sent it to Burke to make Harry feel better.

“Nothing good,” answered Crabbe but seemed unwilling to elaborate.

“There’s nothing you can do about it now,” Lucius said as he noticed how worried Harry was.

The men were quiet as they waited for Albert’s return. No one wanted to voice their concerns beyond what was already said. Harry suspected they already knew what was happening to Albert, but no one wanted to be the one to tell Harry. They might have wanted to spare him, but it only left Harry imaging the full range of possibilities. He hadn’t quite pinned down if Burke was more of a Umbridge type of sadist, or if he was going to show more Voldemort leanings. Regardless, it left a sick feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t finish his lunch as he completely lost his appetite. It got worst the longer they had to wait for Albert’s return.

With nothing else to occupy his mind, Harry kept recalling how gleeful Burke had been when he’d had Harry bound and at his mercy. Harry’s hope that Reginald Hale was reigning in the guards was diminishing the longer Albert was gone. Some guards may have been more cautious, but he doubted they would try very hard to stop Burke. Without restraint, Burke would keep coming at them. Harry broke out into a cold sweat as he imagined how much worse it could get. Harry was genuinely worried for Albert, but he knew that whatever Burke was doing to the other man would only be a warmup for what he had planned for Harry.

Lucius’ drawn expression offered no comfort. Harry grew increasingly fidgety as the seconds ticked by.  Harry couldn’t suppress his jump when the door at the end of the hall finally opened. It seemed to take forever for Burke to return Albert to his cell. Harry wondered if Burke was purposely trying to torture them by building the suspense.

Eventually they moved into Harry’s sight. There were two other guards with them, though Harry didn’t let himself relax since one of them was Wiblin. But it was Albert’s appearance that caused him more grief than either of his two least favourite guards.

The slow pace wasn’t Burke’s insightful way to increase Harry’s worry and fear. They were moving slow because Albert seemed incapable of going any faster. The guards seemed content to let Albert take slow painful steps rather than help by levitating him or healing his wounds. 

The man’s face was swelling from what was clearly repeated blows to his head. The guards hadn’t bothered to clean up the blood from Albert’s split lip and the cut above his left eyebrow. Harry thought the latter was still bleeding sluggishly. Albert’s clothes were similarly stained with blood. The guards didn’t seem to be any more inclined to clean them up either.

Burke spelled the cell door open with a flourish. The man was noticeably in a better mood. His eyes tracked Albert as he painfully made his way back into his cell. The prisoner was slightly hunched over. Once his arms were no longer tied behind his back, he held one arm close to his side. His posture made it clear that there were more injuries under his clothes.

“You ought to thank me, Nott,” Burke gloated as Albert’s cell door closed once more. Albert tried to snort incredulously at that but what came out sounded more pained than anything else.

“I considered bringing that wretched plant to decorate your cell,” hissed Burke. Harry had to wonder why the man hadn’t followed through with that. It would have made the entire hall of convicts miserable. Of course, it likely would have negatively impacted the guards as well.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Albert denied. He gingerly lowered himself on to his cot.

“I’m sure... Perhaps Potter knows then,” Burke threatened as he drew his attention away from the injured man and focused on Harry once more. Harry drew in a fortifying breath as he held the man’s full attention once more. Whatever satisfaction Burke had gotten from seeing Albert in pain slid off his face as he moved towards Harry’s cell.

“Shall we go for a walk and discuss it?” Burke asked. He gripped the bars tightly. Harry noticed that the man’s knuckles were still bloody. Apparently, he hadn’t bothered to clean himself up either.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Wiblin cut in. He looked nervous, which increased as Burke set his narrowed eyes on his coworker. After an awkward pause, he added “I need this job.”

“Potter isn’t innocent. He won’t bet getting out no matter what the papers say,” stressed Burke.

“Then... it won’t matter if this,” Wiblin gestured vaguely in Harry’s direction, “waits until there’s no longer any media focus.”

“I don’t need any warnings or a suspension,” the other guard cut in. “We probably should have left Nott. If Hale comes by soon and hears about it, he’ll make a big stink- I mean, umm, hassle of you know...” the guard started to trail off as Burke’s glare focused on him.

It was tense as everyone waited for Burke to decide what he was going to do. The man glared at Harry, letting him know what his preference would be, but eventually snarled “this isn’t over,” before spitting in Harry’s general direction. Harry was too far away, so Burke’s glob of spit landed harmlessly near the foot of the bed.

Harry was more than happy to see the guards go. His relief at his own physical safety was tempered by his guilt that Albert hadn’t been as lucky. Whatever reprieve Hale may set up of Harry didn’t extend to the other prisoners.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Albert groaned. Harry was surprised the man could read the guilt on Harry’s countenance, given the swelling around his eyes.

“It wasn’t not my fault,” Harry responded. He knew this was on Burke but knowing and feeling were two separate things.

“Burke’s a vindictive shit,” Albert said slowly. He glanced towards his sink and debated whether it was worth the effort to get cleaned up. After sitting on his cot, it was hard to imagine he’d get up again for a long time. In the end, he carefully laid down. Harry could hear the man’s laboured breathing and hoped there wasn’t more serious internal injuries. Lucius was unable to see his friend, but sensed Albert was having difficulty maintaining his role in the conversation.

“It’s not the first time the guards have done something like this. They’ll use any convenient excuse whenever they want to scratch that itch. It wouldn’t have mattered what any of us did or didn’t do,” Lucius said as he took over explaining.

“Burke once broke Mulciber’s nose,” added Crabbe, “and he didn’t heal it for three days.”

“That mugglefucker didn’t give me any pain-relieving potions either,” grumbled Mulciber.

“Surely there must be some consequences,” Harry said as he fretted over how long the guards were likely to leave Albert in pain. It was becoming increasingly clear that the prisoners couldn’t do much, but surely their judicial-wizards could step in. “Perhaps Mr. Hale could do something?” he asked.

“They make sure any injuries are healed before you’re presented to anyone from the outside,” Mulciber informed Harry.

“Like with how they withhold showers sometimes,” agreed Crabbe.

“But couldn’t you still give a statement about what happened?” asked Harry.

“And they could say you provoked them by being violent first,” Mulciber sounded like he was speaking from personal experience.

“What if you gave a memory of the event?” asked Harry. Having spent a good portion of the year reviewing others’ memories, it seemed like an appropriate solution.

“Your judicial-wizard would have to petition the court to allow him to bring his wand to the interview room. Unfortunately, this gives the guards advance notice. Since the petition must be specific, the guards would know what memory is to be recorded. Many prisoners have mysteriously been addled just before the memory could be extracted,” explained Lucius. Harry knew his face was ghostly pale as it really sunk in how much power the guards had over his life while he was stuck there.

“Wouldn’t that prove their guilt though? If all prisoners can’t remember what happened, that in itself would indicate that something is going on,” Harry questioned.

“Yes,” Mulciber acknowledged, “but without proof...”

“There have been instances where memories are collected for the courts, but that’s usually once the person has been released and is trying to sue. But even then, it’s not necessarily the best course of action. The memory is thoroughly examined to ensure it hasn’t been tampered with. There is always the chance that the court may request seeing additional memories if the guards try to claim there was provocation. This leaves the accuser vulnerable to an invasion of privacy and sometimes additional charges for infractions revealed in the memories. You’d have to be very sure before you choose to use this strategy,” Lucius explained.

To Harry it sounded like the laws were in place to keep the prisoners down. Before becoming one himself, he might not have cared or possibly excused it as justifiable as criminals were suffering for their crimes. After living through it, Harry realized how broken the system was. Frankly, he didn’t understand why he was punished but Burke had free reign to do as he pleased. What Burke had just done to Albert seemed worse than Harry’s one second mistake, especially since Burke had planned it out and done similar acts before. It didn’t make sense how Burke’s violence was tolerated and almost protected under the law.

Once the prisoners had made themselves depressed about their situation, it was hard to move forward with Harry’s afternoon lessons. Albert was supposed to have led them, but everyone wanted to give the man time to heal instead. Harry quietly talked to Lucius as Mulciber and the Lestranges brainstormed last minute spells that might interest Harry. Lucius periodically asked for updates on Albert’s status, but Harry couldn’t tell much as the man remained lying down. Harry hoped he had managed to fall asleep.

It took a couple of hours, but eventually everyone was able to engage in the lessons with their usual vigour. Mulciber and Rabastan were tag teaming to teach Harry a spell called ‘Lynceus Sight’, even though it wasn’t part of the sixth-year curriculum. It essentially gave someone temporary x-ray vision. Unfortunately, it was exceptionally difficult to control. Mulciber told Harry about one of his classmates who cast the spell on himself in hopes of seeing his crush naked. He had been unable to stop after looking past her clothes and ended up seeing muscles and bones. And it hasn’t just been focused on his crush, but everyone who happened to be around. Grossed out, the bloke had tried to avert his gaze by looking at the ground but ended up seeing past the floor. The kid freaked out as his brain kept telling him he wasn’t standing on anything.

“So, it’s actually more effective when cast on a seeing-aid device. Well, it isn’t as strong, which ironically makes it more effective,” concluded Lestrange after Mulciber finished his cautionary tale.

“Like Moody’s eye?” asked Harry.

“Exactly,” confirmed the other Lestrange brother. “Your glasses would be a perfect tool to cast the spell on,” he added.

“Hear that, Potter? If you ever wanted to see someone in their skivvies, now’s your chance!” laughed Mulciber.

“You’re the only perv here,” Harry threw back good-naturedly. As tempting as the opportunity might be, Harry wouldn’t violate someone privacy like that.

“Wait, you don’t think Moody uses his eye to watch people walk around naked all day, do you?” Harry suddenly couldn’t help but wonder if the man ever took a peak at him. Or Crouch Jr, who impersonated Moody.

“Oh, definitely,” responded Mulciber.

“The man was an auror. A very paranoid one. I’m pretty sure he mostly used that eye to sneak up on criminals or see through enchantments,” Lucius countered.

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t also use it for more nefarious reasons,” said Mulciber.

This transitioned into exploring variations of the spell. Lucius’ grandfather had used a pair of glasses to see wards. Many curse breakers often used a variation of the spell that allowed them to see what branches of magic were placed on an object.

“How specific can the spell be?” wondered Harry. “Could I charm my glasses to let me know if someone was using Polyjuice, for example?”

None of the men knew if that specific variation of spell existed.

“You could always try to create the spell,” suggested Rodolphus. Harry had never consider creating his own spells before. He wasn’t sure how to go about it, so the others started explaining how they would use the known spells as a springboard to develop additional variations. Together the men picked apart their knowledge of enhanced vision, Polyjuice, and shape shifting characteristics. By the time they were satisfied their spell would work, Harry couldn’t help but feel proud. He not only understood the logic behind the new spell, but had also contributed to the discussion that helped them arrive at the incantation for their new spell. They would have to test the spell to ensure it would work, but Harry was already jumping forward; he had a similar suggestion for a variation that would enable someone to see if a nearby animal was actually someone’s Animagus form. Harry nervously shared this with the others. They had just started to debate the feasibility of the spell working, when the guards returned to announce it was shower time.

“Get up Nott,” yelled Burke as he stopped by the man’s cell. He made banging noises despite the fact that Albert had already groaned and was making an effort to sit up.

Albert didn’t look any better than he had a few hours ago. The swelling and bruising had set in, so the man looked even worse off than he had a few hours ago. The blood he hadn’t washed off was now dry and crusted. When he got up to join the line, Albert was unable to move any faster than his initial return. Only Burke seemed please by the sight.

Harry gently took Albert’s hand and placed it on his upper arm. He had initially tried to bring Albert’s hand to his shoulder, but the man hissed in pain before he could raise his arm too high. It would have been better to allow the man to lean against his side, but the guards would not let them walk side-by-side. This was the best Harry could offer as they moved single file.

Once they got to the locker rooms, Lucius moved close to help. They hit a snag when Albert tried to undress. He couldn’t remove his shirt without considerable pain. Eventually one of the guards stepped in and cut the shirt from his body. Harry briefly hoped the guard would also heal Albert, but he didn’t.

It was more awkward to support Albert once they were all naked. Harry and Lucius bracketed Albert and allowed him to set the pace. This unfortunately meant that Harry couldn’t use his hands to cover his privates while he walked. And since everyone was curious about Albert’s injuries, everyone was watching them. Despite this, Harry was willing to sacrifice his dignity to help Albert.

Once they reached the stalls, Harry was surprised that the two men still kept Harry in the middle. Harry would have protested but Mulciber abandoned his stall to move into the one on Albert’s other side.

Harry started to wash his own body as Albert took a moment to adjust to the sensation of the water spray hitting his cuts and bruises. Now that the man was naked, everyone could see that he was bruised all over. The most damage was around his stomach and ribs, but it was clear that Burke made a valiant effort to mark each part of Albert’s body.

When Harry noticed Albert was struggling to lift his hand to the soap dispenser, he reached over and pressed it for him. Harry was too embarrassed to offer to wash the man for him. However, the more Albert struggled, the more Harry thought he should offer to help. Fortunately, Mulciber had finished his shower so he moved into Albert’s stall to help.

The man wasn’t gentle as his worked to remove the dried blood, but Albert didn’t complain. It helped that Mulciber distracted him with crass jokes. When Lucius finished his shower, he too moved to help by scrubbing Albert’s back. Lucius would have told off Mulciber for his crude comments but refrained when he realized Albert was smiling despite his pain. Albert was trying not to laugh as it would hurt his ribs.

Once Harry finished his shower, he hovered in case he was needed. He also didn’t want to risk running into Burke without backup. It was not the Gryffindor behaviour he was known for, but Albert’s injuries were a stark reminder of what Burke would happily enjoy doing to them all.

The warm water ran out quickly as they had to take their time arriving at the stalls. Despite their discomfort, no one rushed Albert. Even Lucius waited until the man was ready to return to the changing room. When a guard noticed they finally arrived, he brought Albert a button-down shirt. It was a small mercy but still appreciated as Albert would have preferred to walk around bare chested than try to pull on the standard Azkaban shirt.

“He could have healed him,” grumbled Harry. Even with this wardrobe change, Albert had trouble getting his arms in the sleeves and needed help to dress.

“He doesn’t know how,” Lucius explained.

“What?” Harry was shocked. If he could do some basic healing spells, then shouldn’t the guard be able to?

“Most of the guards aren’t hired for their intellect,” added Mulciber. Lucius and Harry supported Albert’s weight while Mulciber bent down to help pull up his pants. Mulciber didn’t complain even though it put him awfully close to Albert’s junk. “If they come relatively cheap and are able to keep secrets, then they’re hired. There are some exceptions. Believe it or not, Burke isn’t usually this much of a moron.”

“But that’s...” Harry thought it was ridiculous that the ministry would hire people who weren’t prepared for even simple injuries. “What if they’re the ones that are injured?”

“They’ll ask one of the guards with some healing knowledge, or just use a potion,” Lucius explained.

“And they can’t bring a potion for Albert?” Harry asked incredulously.

“They would have to explain why it was used if they want any replacement potions.”

Harry figured that answered that.

After they were returned to their cells, Albert thanked them and went to lay down again. The others went back to conversing as quietly as they could. They felt it was getting too late to continue with lessons, so the men quietly told him about their lives before Azkaban. Harry tried not to but he felt some pity for the Lestrange brothers. Most of their stories were about their teen years or early 20s. The majority of their adult lives were wasted in Azkaban. The only ‘happy’ story Rodolphus shared of his later years was when he was briefly reunited with his wife. He still thought she was as beautiful as always. Harry would have found it a sweet story had it been about anyone else. Anger still boiled in him when he thought about Bellatrix, but Harry was slowly warming up to Rodolphus. Harry found he had to constantly remind himself of what the man did to Neville’s family in order to keep an emotional distance.

Unfortunately, the same trick didn’t work against Lucius. He found himself appreciating the man’s company and guidance, no matter what negative memory he recalled. Lucius was also an excellent storyteller, so Harry found he enjoyed listening to the man talk as a way to pass the time in Azkaban. And if the man’s stories often centered around his son, well Harry gobbled that up even more. Unfortunately, the other men eventually noticed Harry preoccupation. Harry didn’t know if it was something in his voice or that he asked too many follow-up questions on the Draco stories, but something had given away his secret crush.

“Like them pretty, do you?” teased Mulciber. As much as Harry wanted to punch the man, he had no qualms about admitting Mulciber had grown on him. He was crass and had a mean streak, but Harry found his frankness refreshing. Except perhaps in this particular situation when the man was tactlessly mentioning his crush. In general, it helped that Harry didn’t have much of a history with the man prior to Azkaban. Mulciber also seemed to be the only one that didn’t see him as a kid. He interacted with Harry like he was an equal.

“Watch what you say,” Lucius warned as Mulciber talked about his son.

“It was a compliment,” Mulciber brushed off Lucius’ warning. “So Pots, why haven’t you asked Draco out yet?”

“Er, we’re not exactly… friendly…” Harry felt awkward having this conversation, especially with Lucius right there. Harry had only just come to terms with the fact that he liked his rival, but he hadn’t admitted that fact aloud before. He didn’t see the point when he knew his best friends would be horrified. Given their history with Draco, Ron and Hermione were likely to discourage Harry from pursuing a relationship with him. Harry was pretty sure that Hermione might have already guessed at Harry’s crush since she was subtly nudging him towards Ginny. As much as he liked Ginny, and knew she was less likely to turn him down and break his heart, Harry felt horrible for liking her since she was dating his friend. Harry felt like his heart had chosen the two most impossible people to focus on.

“Well, why aren’t you having hate sex with him then?” asked Mulciber nonplused. Lucius harrumphed and glared at the wall separating him from Mulciber.

Harry knew he was blushing, but that was a fantasy he had entertained before. Perhaps they’d fight about quidditch, or Draco would insult his friends, or Harry would push to find out what Draco was up to in the room of requirement. Whatever it was, they would argue, possibly try to curse one another, but as they drew closer, their fight would become physical. Only, instead of punches, they would find themselves kissing. What happened next would depend on how the fantasy started. If they had been in a deserted hallway, Harry imagined some heavy petting. Even in his own mind, Harry didn’t want to risk Snape catching them and seeing him naked. But when Harry entertained thoughts of confronting Draco near the room of requirement, he allowed the fantasy to go further. Without the possibility of being interrupted Harry imagined how Draco would feel in his mouth or arse; what he tasted like; what he’d feel like if he allowed Harry in him. Harry wanted to try it all, but assumed that they would only ever happen in his mind.

“We’re not like that either. I don’t think Draco would want, er… he just never seemed interested in me in that way,” Harry answered and tried not to look at Lucius lest the man see exactly how impure his thoughts were about his son.

“Draco might not be as opposed to it as you think,” Lucius was picking his words carefully as he considered how much to reveal about his son’s feelings. When Mulciber laughed, Lucius felt he had to add on “in a relationship, not just a…”

“Booty call,” suggested Mulciber.

“You should wait for true love,” Rodolphus added unexpectedly. “Everything is so much better with Belly than any other woman I’ve been with,” he sounded wistful. If Harry hadn’t met the woman, he would picture a saint with the way her husband spoke of her.

“You should also ensure you know all of the right spells too,” Lucius said, using the same tone of voice that he used in their lessons. “Harry, have you mastered all of the safe sex spel-”

“Oh my God!” Harry interrupted horrified. “Please tell me you’re not giving me the talk.”

Mulciber was cracking up in his cell. Even the Lestranges seemed to be chuckling. Lucius looked uncomfortable but serious.

“I’m well aware that Hogwarts’ professors don’t adequately cover it. With the amount of misinformation that circles around the dorms, it is best to ensure you’re fully prepared when any sexual activities occur,” Lucius pushed though the awkwardness he felt. “Have you learnt the cleaning-”

“I know! I’m prepared! Please for the love of magic, stop,” Harry was beyond embarrassed now.

“You should probably stop cock-blocking your son,” added Mulciber sounding very amused.

“What? I’m not,” Lucius denied.

“You really think Harry is going to want to go beyond handjobs if he’s constantly reminded that his boyfriend’s dad taught him the sex spells he’s using?” asked Mulciber.

Harry wanted to sink into the floor. As much as he liked the thought of getting to the point where he would need to know sex spells, Mulciber was right that Lucius was the last person Harry wanted to discuss this with. This was one subject he didn’t want his new mentors to teach him, even if all of them seemed to think he’d be able to convince Draco to be in a situation where they were necessary.

“I’m trying to make sure they are both prepared,” insisted Lucius.

“You taught Draco, didn’t you? They’ll be fine,” Mulciber said, then steered the conversation away from sex spells. “So, what do you like about Draco?”

Harry was still uncomfortable discussing his crush, but was worried that if he didn’t distract Lucius the man would insist they go back to sex spells. “He’s smart,” Harry admitted. When Lucius raised his eyebrow, he felt the need to elaborate. “Like, not just book smart. I mean… well, in fourth year he animated these badges. They said ‘Potter stinks’ so it was pretty insulting, but it was impressive all the same. I wouldn’t have been able to do that,” he said. If Harry hadn’t been tutored by these men, he probably still wouldn’t be able to create those badges. As soon as Harry realized he got his new skill set from them, it also occurred to him that they might not be as impressed as Harry was with the badges. “It’s not just that he’s smart, I guess. It’s that he’s creative too. He doesn’t just regurgitate spells. He finds ways to use them in different situations,” Harry concluded.

“Good quality to have,” Mulciber conceded. “And kudos to you Harry for not starting with ‘he’s hot’.”

“How could I when his father’s right here and threatening me with unnecessary sex ed lessons?” Harry responded. Mulciber snorted, Rodolphus chuckled, and Lucius tried to look unimpressed but ruined it with a smile. “But, er, he is that too,” Harry added shyly. Draco might not have the same glow about him this year, but Harry thought he was still unfairly beautiful.

“What else?” wondered Mulciber.

“The way he flies,” Harry admitted quietly. “Even in our first year, it was just so… elegant. Which is ridiculous because when he plays quidditch he’s so far from sophisticated. He cheats, and tries to knock me off my broom – he once pretended to see the snitch just so he could elbow me in the face when I chased after him,” Harry’s voice got a little louder as he became indignant at the memory. “But, I guess, in a weird way I like the challenge. Our games against slytherin are always more intense. I guess – well, Draco pushes me to be better, play smarter, you know?”

“Violent tendencies aside, it’s good to have someone that’ll push you to grow,” Mulciber responded.

“Quidditch doesn’t count,” argued Rodolphus. “A little bit of violence is expected to make the game interesting.”

“I suspect Draco was attempting the pulling-pigtails approach to discovering a crush,” Lucius suggested. “If he knew he has a chance with you, I imagine he would be less… mean.”

“But that’s another thing. He’s actually more kind than I ever gave him credit for,” Harry admitted. He was still embarrassed about being so candid with his feelings, but he was starting to appreciate finally being able to talk about it openly and not feel judged for who he was crushing on. “I used to think he was spoiled-”

“He is,” confirmed Lucius.

“Yeah, but it’s not the mean spoiled. Well, he can be really mean, but that’s with people he doesn’t like,” such as Harry, Harry thought morosely. It was perhaps his least favourite part of Draco’s personality. Draco would go after what his opponent was the most vulnerable about. But he was the opposite with the people he truly cared about. “My cousin, Dudley, is spoiled. He gets whatever he wants and that made him really selfish. He doesn’t really think about anyone but himself. I used to think Draco was the same way. But it’s more like he’s learnt that you spoil the people you care about. Like… when Crabbe told me that Draco buys his son Olga the Outrageous merchandise! If Dudley found out his friend was obsessed with a character from a kid’s book, he’d tease him about it. Draco is more supportive… And, you told me that every Hogsmeade weekend, Draco looks for a present to buy you and his mum. I don’t think any other student does that… Or this one time he transfigured a bunch of forks into a bouquet of colour-changing roses and gave them to Parkinson. At first Ron and I thought he was showing off or trying to get into Parkinson’s pants. We later found out he was just trying to cheer her up because Flitwick called her out for doing poorly on her charms essay…” Harry could think of half a dozen more examples, but he cut himself off before he could voice them. Harry realized he was full-on gushing at this point.

“That’s quite insightful,” said Lucius once he realized Harry was done. He was giving Harry a soft look that many people would assume the man incapable of. Harry shrugged feeling embarrassed.

“And not as love-blind as Rodo here,” added Mulciber. “It’s refreshing to hear that you see the bad with the good. I’ve met Draco and he can be a prick.”

“That’s because he has the good sense not to like you,” Lucius bantered. There was no real heat behind either of the men’s words.

“I see Belly’s flaws,” argued Lestrange.  Lucius looked as shocked as Harry felt. He hadn’t heard one negative word from Lestrange about his wife. “She snores and hogs the sheets,” Lestrange offered. Love-blind indeed.

“As shocking as that is,” Mulciber said sarcastically, “I’m more surprised that Harry here isn’t an entitled arsehole.”

“Er, thanks?” Harry responded.

“Just meant that before I met you, I would have assumed you’d be a spoiled brat too. You know, being the saviour and all,” Mulciber explained. “That spoiled cousin of yours – he the one you live with?”

“Unfortunately,” said Harry.

“But you weren’t spoiled too?” pressed Mulciber.

“No,” Harry felt embarrassed for a whole new reason.

“You don’t talk about your family,” noted Lestrange.

“It’s better not to,” hedged Harry.

“Is it because they’re muggles? We won’t judge you if you love the muggles that raised you,” Lestrange offered.

“It’s not that,” Harry said. There was definitely no love lost between Harry and the Dursleys. “I just don’t feel like talking about them.”

“Alright,” Lestrange’s tone was mild as he agreed for the rest of the men that they wouldn’t push Harry to talk about it for now. Still, Harry was pretty sure he managed to reveal more than he intended to. There was a slight lull in the conversation until Mulciber felt the need to break it.

“I’m sure once you start dating, Draco will spoil you rotten,” he said cheerfully.

“I don’t know why you all seem to think Draco will agree to be my boyfriend,” Harry said. Harry knew he wasn’t irresistible.

 “Harry,” Lucius sounded serious. He waited until he had Harry’s full attention before continuing. “I don’t think my son would want me to say this, but since your interest seems genuine I’ll intercede. I’ve suspected that Draco has liked you for – well, let’s just say awhile.”

“He doesn’t act like it,” Harry couldn’t help but cut in.

“My son doesn’t handle rejection well. You’re one of the few his age that has refused to let him bludgeon his way into getting what he wants. As such, you’ve gained his anger, but also his respect. Unfortunately he now feels too vulnerable to outright ask you for another chance at friendship or more. He’ll try to impress you and when that doesn’t seem to work, he’ll act out to anger you. Whatever gets your attention to validate his worth. He wants you to see him, but he won’t risk the potential further rejection of outright asking you for more,” Lucius said.

Harry looked at Lucius in shock. He didn’t know what Draco was writing in his letters home to make Lucius come to this conclusion. Harry wanted to believe it would be as simple as asking Draco. He didn’t think Lucius was setting him up for failure, but it was hard to wrap his head around the idea that Draco might like him back.

“Even if you’re right,” Harry still doubted that Draco didn’t just outright hate him, “I wouldn’t know how to ask him.” Harry didn’t have much experience with asking people out on dates. It wasn’t as if Draco would be charmed by his oh so smooth Wangoballwime? approach. In fact, Harry was pretty sure Draco wouldn’t let him down as kindly as Cho had.

“If two sad sacks like Lucius and I could get the gorgeous Black sisters to agree to marry us, I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” encouraged Lestrange. Lucius rolled his eyes but didn’t bother addressing the insult. From Lucius’ stories, Harry knew the man felt blessed to have Narcissa as a wife.

Harry stared at Lucius, who looked earnest yet encouraging. Harry wanted to accept what he was saying, but it sounded almost too good to be true. Harry craved acceptance but had learnt to be wary of it all the same. He had grown close to these men over the past couple of weeks, but that didn’t erase all the negative history that existed between them. Harry watched Lucius and tried to figure out why the man would be keen to encourage the boy who once tricked him out of a house elf. Even if Lucius had forgiven all past transgressions, once they left their Azkaban bubble, new problems would arise. Voldemort was gearing up for a war that would pit Harry against them. Lucius encouraging Harry to pursue his son seemed foolish, unless...

“He won’t be safer with me,” Harry whispered. He couldn’t blame Lucius if his acceptance was only a scheme to provide his son with extra protection. It pained him, but he could understand it. Lucius was trapped, unable to help his son except perhaps to convince someone else to take on that responsibility. The plan might have worked if Harry had been anyone besides the boy-who-lived. “Vol – you-know-who would just be even more happy to hurt him if he knew Draco mattered to me.”

Lucius looked shocked but that quickly bled into sadness. “As much as I wish I could change things, I fear Draco won’t be safe regardless... at least with you he will be happy,” Lucius said.

Harry’s chest felt tight, but he couldn’t say if that was from suspecting Lucius was plotting, or from believing Lucius trusted him with Draco’s happiness. Either way, it ground their conversation to a halt. Even Mulciber and the Lestrange brothers let the conversation die out. In the resulting quiet, Harry kept imagining how he could convince Draco for both a date and to hideout at grimmauld place.

When supper arrived without Albert rising from his bed, Harry’s concern slipped from Draco and back towards the beaten man. It was only as Harry was lying down for the night that he realized neither of them had been called for a meeting with Hale despite be given the opportunity to shower.

Harry fell asleep surprisingly quickly and had two blissful hours where he was pulled away from all the thoughts that left him with a heavy heart. Then, a loud noise broke the quiet of the prison and caused Harry to jerk awake.

“Burke?” Harry questioned when he saw a man pull open the door his cell. In the dark of the night, it was hard for Harry to make out the features of the man without his glasses on.

“Potter,” was hissed at him. The voice confirmed it was Burke. He quickly strode over to the groggy boy and pushed him back onto the mattress when Harry started to sit up.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked in alarm when Burke leaned over Harry’s prone form. In response the man grabbed a fistful of Harry’s hair and yanked his head to the side.

“What I should have done the moment you arrived,” Burke hissed back. “If I had put you in your place right away, you wouldn’t have caused so much trouble for me,” as Burke spoke, he leaned more and more into Harry’s space. His hold on Harry’s hair was unforgiving and he strained Harry’s neck in an uncomfortable way.

“Get off,” Harry hissed. He blindly swung his arm towards the guard. Burke caught it easily, but in the process let go of Harry hair. Before Harry could feel grateful, Burke yanked Harry’s arm down to his side then swung his own leg over Harry’s torso to trap the arm between Harry’s body and his own. Harry struggled to buck the man off him, but Burke settled heavily over Harry’s torso.

“Entitled little shit,” Burke hissed then backhanded Harry across the face. Harry cried out in shock. While he was dazed, Burke grabbed his other hand and similarly trapped it between their bodies.

“I was doing my job. I punish people like you. I make sure you get what you deserve.” Burke said as he held Harry down. “And you’re trying to make me the bad guy? Playing innocent and helpless but you’re nothing but a filthy dog,” Burke spat and punctuated his point by backhanding Harry again. The force of it brought tears to Harry’s eyes.

“You’re insane,” Harry said and once again tried to buck the man off. He wasn’t flexible enough to reach him with his legs and couldn’t get enough leverage to free his arms.

“Because I’m not tripping over myself to serve you?” Burke asked and grabbed Harry’s hair again. “I’m not willfully blind like the others. I see what you are, and I will do what everyone else doesn’t seem to have the stomach for. Because that’s what I am. I show you what you are – a sickness,” Burke accentuated his point by harshly pulling Harry’s hair before continuing, “a blight on society,” his other hand grabbed Harry’s chin and held him still with a bruising grip, “a disgusting worm that should be grinned against my heel. You have no power here, Potter.”

Holding Harry in place with one hand on his hair and the other on his chin, Burke leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s. The boy’s eyes widened. He would have pulled back, but he had nowhere to go. He tried to turn his head, not caring if Burke pulled out his hair in the process, but Burke dug his fingers into Harry’s chin and nipped at Harry’s bottom lip in retaliation. In desperation, Harry struggled beneath him to free an arm, and when that didn’t work, he could do nothing more than sob helplessly. Burke chuckled against his lips.

“Get off of him,” Crabbe’s voice called out. For a brief moment Harry was relieved, thinking that perhaps Burke would stop this madness if he knew the other prisoners were awake.

“In a moment,” Burke said carelessly. “When I’m done with him.”

“Get off me you bast-” Burke interrupted Harry’s outburst by leaning down and forcing another kiss. Since Harry’s mouth had been open mid-insult, Burke took the opportunity to slip his tongue in. Harry’s brain short circuited and looped ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod as Burke seemed intent on shoving his tongue as far as it could go. He only broke out of his panic when Burke tugged on Harry’s hair to adjust the angle of their kiss. Still frighten but no longer frozen, Harry bit down on the invading tongue. Burke jerked back.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said.

“You’ve made your point,” Lucius said angrily from his cell. “The boy is successfully frightened. You should stop.”

“I’ll say when I stop. That’s my point. You convicts have no power. I do,” Burke accentuated his point by leaning down again. He didn’t try to slip his tongue in again. Instead he harshly bit at Harry’s lower lip in retaliation. Harry whimpered and tried to move away but that just caused more damage as the man clamped down refusing to let his prize leave.

“Stop,” Harry squirmed as he tried to free his body from under the man. Burke ignored him as he trailed one hand down Harry’s neck. His hand lingered there, and Harry had to close his eyes when he realized the man was admiring his work. The guard caressed the tattoo he left there.

“This was supposed to remind you that you’re mine now,” Burke remarked. “No matter. I’m sure I can find another way to have the message sink in.”

Burke’s hand trailed further down but his own body was blocking his access. Keeping a tight hold on Harry’s hair, the man slid down Harry’s body. He brought his hand to the hem of Harry’s shirt and lifted it up. Harry shivered as chest was exposed, and he knew it had more to do with Burke’s cold gaze than Azkaban’s cold atmosphere. Burke’s hand was firm as it moved up Harry’s chest, and just as unforgiving as it pinched his nipple.

“No,” Harry protested. Given their new position, it was easier for him to free his arms now. He slapped Burke’s hand away from his chest, and then tried to push the man off him. Burke barely moved a few inches before diving back down. However, Harry was determined to fight now that his arms were free. He resisted when Burke tried to recapture them. He kept slapping them against Burke’s chest and face while repeating “get off, get off, get off.”

Finally having enough, Burke reached for Harry’s neck and squeezed. Harry choked as his air supply was completely cut off in Burke’s strong grip. Desperately Harry swiped his nails across Burke’s face but only succeed in making the man angrier. Harry tried to pry Burke’s hand from his neck, but he had no strength left.

“You stupid... thinking you... so fucking... no one would care... work that way... I have you... whatever I... nothing you... me,” Harry couldn’t fully understand whatever Burke was spewing at him. His vision was getting darker the longer he couldn’t pull in a breath. He feared he was about to die but didn’t have the strength to stop it.

He was only saved because something distracted Burke from finishing the job. When Burke’s grip loosened, Harry gratefully gasped in lungfuls of air between coughs.

“... away. I got this,” Burke was saying to a dementor that had stopped at the open door to Harry’s cell. It hovered on the threshold, neither moving in nor leaving as Burke requested.

“Help,” Harry whispered roughly. “Get... im... off...” Harry tried to plead even though it hurt to talk.

“It’s not going to help you, Potter,” Burke mocked as he refocused on Harry. Fortunately, he no longer wanted to strangle Harry to death, but unfortunately his hands resumed their exploration of Harry’s chest. Harry tried to push him away but barely had much strength after their last struggle. He couldn’t stop Burke from pressing his hips to the bed as the man leaned down to lick at Harry’s chest. He tried. He pushed at Burke’s head and mumbled “no, off” but the man ignored him. Burke even tried to ignore the lingering dementor, but its presence was usually enough to kill anyone’s boner.

“Go,” Burke hissed and waved his arm at it.

“Help,” Harry whispered as he watched the unmoving dementor. He pushed feebly at Burke while the man’s attention was off him, but barely managed to get the man to budge.

“Can you not do it yourself?” the dementor asked. At the sound of its voice, Harry recognized the dementor as Asherath. Harry looked at him pleadingly, hoping the dementor had grown fond of him enough to want to help.

Unaware that Asherath had spoken to Harry, Burke once again ordered him to leave. “I’ve got this,” he insisted. Annoyed that the dementor was ignoring his orders, Burke took his frustration out on Harry. When he turned back to the boy, he snarled and roughly yanked down Harry’s trousers and pants in one go.

“No,” Harry’s voice came out stronger but still wasn’t the yell he had intended it to be. He tried to grab his clothes, but Burke grabbed his wrist. He pinned Harry’s hand near his head so that the boy was unable to stop himself from being exposed.

“Leave,” Burke insisted again, but he was watching Harry’s horror-struck face instead of the dementor. He lay atop the boy to keep him pinned down. The hand that wasn’t holding Harry’s wrist was pressing Harry’s face to the cot so that Burke had free range to access Harry’s tattoo. Harry shivered as Burke leaned down and licked it. A second later the man moved his mouth a few inches over and harshly bit down. Harry screamed and tried to pull the man off with his free hand, but once again was unsuccessful.

Harry desperately sought out Asherath, willing to plead for help as Burke’s hand slipped between their bodies. The man sharply tugged at Harry’s flaccid penis and smiled against Harry’s bleeding bite mark when the boy whimpered. Harry could barely make out the shape of the dementor through his tears, but he tried to make eye contact.

“Ash...” he pleaded as Burke harshly groped his balls before moving his hand lower. If Burke succeed in violating his genitals any further, Harry didn’t feel it because his mind was suddenly flooded with new knowledge. He gasped as he struggled to process it but was desperate enough to hold Asherath’s gaze as the dementor shared with him something he knew no other wizard had been given before.

Harry panted through the onslaught of information and the accompanying headache that came with connecting to another’s mind. It wasn’t something he could put into words and explain like any other magical theory, but he suddenly knew how dementors pulled out someone’s soul. If Harry had time to think, he would have convinced himself that it was a magic he couldn’t perform since he wasn’t a dementor. But he knew he had to try when Burke pushed Harry’s legs wide open so that he could settle comfortably between then. Harry trembled, closed his eyes, and tried to call on his magic to coax Burke’s soul out of his body.

Harry feared it might not be working as Burke fumbled with his own clothes as if nothing new had happened. The man pushed his own pants and trousers to his knees before moving to settle over Harry again. Burke gripped Harry’s leg, moved it to his satisfaction, and then just stopped. The man frowned before turning to glare at the dementor still lingering at the door.

“I told you to get out of here,” Burke snarled. Asherath remained hovering where he was, not bothered by the guard’s anger. Burke shivered and started fumbling with trousers, seeking his wand. It wasn’t the man’s sudden panic, or fact that he went from fully erect to limp painfully quick that clued Harry in. It was the full body goosebumps that broke out across every visible inch of his skin. Harry was doing it. He was calling to Burke’s soul the way a dementor could. Harry propped himself up on his elbows but didn’t dare try to escape in case it broke his concentration.

Burke turned to Harry, looking horrified. Harry didn’t know if Burke realized it was Harry or just his own worst memories had started playing in his mind. The more scared Burke got, the more giddy Harry became. Harry knew it was only a fraction of the joy the dementors got when they did this. They pulled a person’s good memories towards them like a damn appetizer before they claimed their soul. This left the dementors all warm and fuzzy while their victims were left with their worst feelings and drowned in misery. It incapacitated them long enough for dementors to pull out their vulnerable souls.

Harry’s pleasure didn’t stem from stealing Burke’s happiness for his own sustenance. Rather, it had to do with feeling his magic thrum under his skin again. It was knowing that he had stopped Burke from violating him further. It was his decision to keep going until he plucked the man’s soul out of his body so that he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again. Decision made, Harry sat up and got to work.

Harry didn’t know how long it took him to tease out the soul, but he was patient. He sent his magic out so that it gathered Burke’s soul and nudged it up and out of the man’s mouth. Harry couldn’t help but marvel at his success when a glowing white orb floated just past Burke’s lips. Later Harry would wonder how someone as revolting as Burke could still have such a pure-looking soul. For now, he just took a moment to observe the soul hovering between him and Burke.

Then Harry opened his mouth and swallowed.