Never A Memory

~The Last Kiss~



One week later...

***



Ron Weasley stood and peered over his cubicle at his partner, Harry Potter, who was seated behind his desk, fiddling with his wand with some far away look crowding his features.



Harry had become incredibly moody the past couple of weeks--if he wasn't already incredibly moody. Especially this week. Harry seemed to space out more often, staring into places Ron couldn't see and neglecting his paperwork; a thing Harry rarely did. Ron often tried to snap him out of it. Yesterday, Ron took him to The Mild Brew, a pub down the street, for a few drinks; however, a few drinks turned into many and Ron ended up dragging an incoherent Boy-Who-Lived (Twice) from the pub within a few hours. An ex-lover of Harry's, a Hogwart's Hufflepuff graduate by the name of Cruent Mantle, was sighted with some other bloke by the pair of them the second they had walked in.



Not one to want to make scene, Harry had perched on a barstool at the other end of the pub and quietly drained three schooners by the time Ron had ordered his first. Harry's reaction had honestly surprised Ron. Ron had thought Harry was over the Hufflepuff bloke. They hadn't dated in some six months and Harry never spoke of him.



Truth be told, Harry never mentioned that seeing Cruent had bothered him, but Ron would never call himself an expert on ponce inclination. In fact, even being Harry's best mate hadn’t ever clued him in that Harry was bi or gay or whatever the hell he was. The shock of Harry taking a shine to blokes as a well as women had passed as quickly as it came though. Hermione had thought it was wonderful news when Harry had quietly announced that Cruent was his lover. Ron thought it was strange but didn't give it much energy. Harry was his best mate and whatever or whoever he was shagging was his own business. It was just...Ron had really, really hoped Harry and Ginny were going to re-establish their relationship after the Eve War.



Ron remembered the look on Harry's face when Ginny had shown up to their Auror Graduation with some bloke named Lenor Remuin, a cousin of Luna Lovegood's. There was this sardonic, half-smile that hovered on his lips for half a moment before he smiled genuinely at Ginny and introduced himself to Lenor.



Since then, Harry moved back and forth between sexes and his longer relationships were quiet, almost surfacey ones with this bloke or that bloke. Even so, Harry had been even more distant with his lovers than he was with his friends. Ron and Hermione were still the only two he confided in about his feelings; and even that was less and less frequently.



Harry raised his green eyes to Ron and raised his black brows inquisitively. Ron gave him a pained, helpless grin, having no real explanation for standing over Harry for nearly a full five minutes. Harry pushed at the bridge of his nose habitually. Harry was still, even after the three years of no longer wearing his glasses, not used to not having them. He dropped his hand and waited for Ron to say something.



"You hung-over, mate?" Ron asked finally.



"No," Harry replied.



Ron was quiet for a moment. "Muggles call this depression, Harry. Maybe we sent the wrong wizard to St. Mary's."



Harry smiled a little. "Cute."



Ron shrugged. "You want to go home early?"



Harry raised one raven-colored brow. "I think the real question is: Do YOU want to go home early?"



Ron made a face but managed to grin back. "Well, Hermione wants to cook me some Muggle something or another. She says dinner's at six sharp and I wanted to...you know..."



Harry raised his chin and Ron turned beet red.



"Well, you know," Ron stammered. "I want to bring her flowers and Merlin save me if I'm late...And don't look at me like that."



Harry laughed softly. "How can you still be shy when talking about her?"



Ron didn't answer immediately. "I...just can't believe she's mine. That she chose me and she hasn't run away screaming yet. She makes me want to pull my hair out sometimes, mate, to be sure. But...I wouldn't want her any other way."



Harry nodded slowly. "That's incredibly romantic, Ron."



"Shut up, you git," Ron said laughing as he lunged for to swat at Harry's head.



Harry moved his head to the side and stood up. "You go ahead home, Ron. Azkaban allotted time for one more interrogation before Lucius Malfoy gets the Kiss. I'll head over there and then I'll go home."



Ron chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "I forgot about that."



Harry snorted softly. "No, you didn't."



Ron looked away for a moment. It was something to wonder at that Ron was able to find it in his heart to show a level of tolerance towards Draco Malfoy while working on the Malfoy case; but Ron refused to acknowledge anything about Lucius Malfoy.



The Death Eater had tried to assassinate his parents before the Eve War and was captured by Snape, who, coincidentally, had been speaking to Molly, Ron's mother about something to do with the Order of the Phoenix through The Burrow's fireplace. Snape had instantly Apparated in, Stupefied Lucius Malfoy, and handed him over to the Ministry who immediately sent him to Azkaban. It was rumored that Lucius was present when Voldemorte murdered his wife, Narcissa, and did nothing.



After a condemning testimonial by Severus Snape in a hearing after the Eve War, Lucius had received an order for the Dementor's Kiss and his execution was later this evening.



Ron could find no sympathy in his heart for someone who tried to murder his parents. None at all. And that was probably the only thing he had in common with Lucius' son, Draco Malfoy.



"I'll go with you if you need me," Ron said finally.



"I don't," Harry said softly but firmly. "You go home to Hermione."



"You're sure?"



Harry responded by nodding, putting on his cloak, and walking away.



***



Azkaban wouldn't exactly be Harry's choice to spend a holiday, but walking through its dank halls, he couldn't help but feel a measure of satisfaction. There were Death Eaters here that he and Ron had personally arrested, as well as many dark wizards other Aurors had a hand in taking down. The wailing and howling of the imprisoned even made Harry smile grimly, knowing that these wizards had and are getting what they deserved.



The Dementors crowding the halls made way for him. Harry had realized, upon his first visit to Azkaban that the Dementors all seemed to shy away from him, apparently knowing he could conjure the Patronus and having no desire to instigate it. Harry turned a corner and approached Lucius Malfoy's cell. Winston Reakley, a crooked, shriveled creature of a man, stood by the cell door with two Dementors on either side. Reakley, a Squib who took to being a sort of caretaker for the Wizarding prison, was unaffected by the Dementors' magical ability to suck the cheer from anyone near it and moved forward instantly when seeing Harry and offered him a smile that had more teeth missing than not.



"Ah, Mr. Potter, always on time, always on time," Reakley said in his high-pitched, raspy voice. "Must be quick, Mr. Potter. We're always on time too, always on time."



"Thank you for letting me here, Mr. Reakley," Harry said softly. "It's important for the case I'm working on."



"I see," Reakley rasped. "Hurry in, Mr. Potter. Hurry in."



Harry Potter, used to Reakley's madness and obsession with time, allowed Reakley to open the cell door for him and walked in.



Lucius Malfoy still managed to look impeccably groomed despite the years in this worst circle of hell and when he looked up at Harry, he realized Lucius was quite as mad as Reakley. Harry figured he would be a bit off his rocker too if he had to live here. Harry waited for Reakley to close the door and leaned against a damp wall of the dirty cell.



"Harry Potter," Lucius drawled, his lip curling into a sneer. "How sweet of you to visit on my Execution Day. Paying your last respects?"



"Hardly," Harry responded, crossing his arms deep within the folds of his robes. "I came to speak to you about your son."



"I have no son," Lucius replied instantly, his eyes flashing silver in his madness. "No son at all. Pity that the Malfoy legacy must end with me. But, alas, all great things must come to an end."



"Draco Malfoy," Harry said slowly, trying to trigger a memory. "Draco, your son, is in danger from your colleagues. I know you know of the price on his head. Who sent out the warrant, Lucius?"



"Is it is up to one million galleons yet?"



Harry frowned. "Lucius...all I want is a name."



Lucius laughed. It began softly and then erupted into something awful and unpleasant, ringing off the walls of his cell. Harry wondered how often Lucius had to practice the laugh before he mastered that particular effect.



"And will you be gracious and convince the Dementors to hold off their Kiss for one more day if I tell you?" Lucius cackled. "Or perhaps you'll show mercy and kill me yourself, saving me from the indignity of losing my soul? What say you, Harry Potter? What say you? I'm quite literally dying to find out."



"He's your son, Lucius," Harry grated. "That should mean something to you."



"HE MURDERED MY WIFE!" Lucius exploded.



Harry shook his head, wondering if Lucius' thoughts were really that warped or if he was faking it. "No, Voldemorte did."



"It's because of him that Narcissa is dead," Lucius spat. "That weak disgrace is no son of mine."



"He is and Death Eaters will murder him too if you don't tell me who sent out the warrant," Harry said quietly. "You could prevent that...like you could have prevented what happened to your wife."



The cackle was back and Lucius' eyes gleamed maniacally. "Narcissa got what was coming to her for breeding such a son."



"So you acknowledge Draco is your son?"



"Was hers, never mine. Never mine."



Harry was quiet for a long moment and the silence made Lucius shift nervously. "He worshipped you," Harry said finally.



"Apparently not enough," Lucius replied with a lift of his chin. "He destroyed everything we stood for single handedly."



A muscle in Harry's jaw twitched. 'Not single handedly,' Harry thought.



"One last chance, Lucius," Harry said.



"Life is abundant with last chances."



Harry turned and knocked on the door. Reakley came in the cell and the pair of Dementors followed, floating mere inches from above the ground and hidden in their ragged black cloaks. Reakley grinned at Harry. "Always on time, Mr. Potter. Always on time. Will you watch?"



"Draco resented you for being everything he wanted to be," Lucius said suddenly, his eyes dark and shaded, pushing himself as far against the wall and away from the two Dementors as possible. "And irony would have it that you resent him for the one thing he could do that you couldn't. Jealousy is a renowned Slytherin trait, Harry Potter."



Harry focused all his hatred for Lucius Malfoy into the single nod he gave Reakley before he turned back to Lucius, who was cringing in the corner of his cell. The Dementors advanced on Lucius Malfoy and he began to whimper.



"Who sent out the warrant to kill your son, Draco Malfoy?" Harry called out one last time.



"He is no son of mine," Lucius repeated a final time. "The answer lies within Slytherin..."



Harry watched as the Dementors pulled their hoods down to perform the Kiss with lidded eyes. Lucius screamed once before the two black figures obscured Lucius from Harry's view. A pale light flashed and was swallowed immediately, and Harry heard the distinct sound of a body slumping to the ground. Reakley beckoned to the two Dementors and they followed him from the cell, leaving Harry to peer through the darkness at the dead, soulless father of Draco Malfoy.



And Harry wondered if Lucius Malfoy had been dead and soulless all along.