Jail Bird Choir

Jail Bird Choir

Summary: - Without Dumbledore as his protector Severus is sentenced to life in Azkaban after the war and is forced to turn to a most unlikely source for help.

Author: - Riffraff

Rating: - NC-17 or R18+ depending on the country.

Pairing: - Snape/Harry, Snape/Lucius, others as well but to juicy to name.

Warnings: - This story contains, graphic violence, blood play, severe language and multiple explicit sex acts both consensual and not.

Disclaimer: - I don't profess to own any of the characters or plot co incidents with the Harry Potter series written by JK Rowling, contained within this story. All dirt, sex and other profanity is made from the sick genius of my own and while I use for my own and others amusements the character of JKR's stories, I do neither profit monetarily or legally from anything contained within these pages. All relative warnings related to this story are clearly indicated and should you be reading this story and take offence I accept no responsibility having warned you thoroughly before undertaking the project. If you sue, you won't make a dime so don't bother. RIFFRAFF.

Authors Note: - A little darker than I usually like to delve into the world of HP but then again I enjoy the occasional foray into the macabre and I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I’m enjoying writing it.

CHAPTER 1

In a windowless, dark room he sat staring at the wall. A thin dirty mattress the only shield from the cold floor beneath him. It smelt of grime, of blood and of thousands of years of decay recycling in the drafts created by the soulless creatures that stalked the halls. A maggot infested plate of gruel stood untouched by the corner, last week’s meal beside it in a similar state. Not a single noise whispered past his ears lulling the insane into believing themselves deaf. Without light he could not see the bloodied nail scraps down the stonewall he stared at day and night unblinking. The last occupant had left his mark, long gone but certainly not without a fight. In the void that had become his existence he found the world inside him intimately more comfortable than the reality outside. It was fitting in reflection, that one who had shunned his secrets in his former life, now took comfort in them. Six months he’d been here, six months of hell sitting on Satan’s knee while the bastard buggered his arse. The analogy might have made him smile if there had been enough energy left in him to move.

“Nothing you say in this session is going to affect your sentence, what have you to loose by telling us where the rest of them are hiding?” The voice behind him was hollow and calculating much the same as another voice he’d once bowed to. But he was already broken and no cheap words could do any further damage.

“You have no hope of redemption Severus Snape, but perhaps you can find a little solace in knowing your words will save lives after you have gone.” Again he didn’t reply the voice of his regular visitor easily blocked out by a natural indifference he’d perfected in his previous life.

“Your name will be forgotten Severus, your families portraits will be a disgrace to any wizards wall that they hang upon.” The voice spat, as usual its tone changing abruptly with irritation when the addressee made no attempt to reply. He knew the pattern, had studied it in those first few weeks he’d been here. Analysing it for a hope he knew it would not bring. But he’d grown weary of it quickly and found the effort of listening not worth the inevitable outcome.

“You are scum Severus Snape! Disgusting, abomination of a wizard who should not have been given life let alone a wand! You will die here Severus, a painful, bloodied; soulless death and no one will mourn your loss. You are pathetic.” He knew what was coming but didn’t move as the metal chain came crashing down onto the upside of his head, the crude links tearing into his skin like a sharpened bread knife. The force made him fall sideways onto the mattress its thin padding cushioning the blow making it marginally more bearable. Pain was something he’d learned to live with even before his stay in hotel hell and the old coping mechanisms remained stubbornly behind even if parts of him had already surrendered. Slowly he sat back up, righting himself without a flinch to go back to staring at the dark wall. Blood pooled in his collar bone the warm fluid falling unseen onto the already soiled mattress.

Footsteps and the faintest crackle of magic pulsing the room singled his visitor’s retreat leaving him once again in the dark, windowless room that had become both his home and his tomb.

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“This is bullshit.” Ronald Weasley stared pointlessly up at the empty shop in front of him. The place was abandoned like most of the street its windows boarded up and it’s doors sealed shut with the approved Ministry brand.

“Stop complaining Ron it’s our beat and we’re stuck with it until rotation on Friday.” Harry Potter stepped down out of the entrance from the shop across the street having glanced through its shattered windows for signs of life or anything remotely interesting. In reflection Auror hadn’t quite turned out to be the exciting career Harry had imagined it to be, especially with Voldemort gone.

“Oh great and what delights await us patrolling the perimeter of Azkaban?” Harry rolled his eyes as Ron waved his arms around sarcastically at the prospect of next week’s assignment. The pair of them had been in Auror training four months already, part of which included nightly patrols. Being unqualified the beats were always places already cleared by the Ministry but needed monitoring just incase. In Harry’s eyes it was a pointless exercise serving only to tire them more, from the already tough training program during the day. “And hey, I don’t like boats either so brooms it’ll be.” Ron muttered as the pair of them continued down the dimly lit street that had once been the shady cover of Knockturn Alley.

“Fine.” Harry sighed as he shoved his hands into his cloak to keep them warm in the icy breeze whipping up the street. “So are you taking Hermione out this weekend?” Changing the subject from their meaningless patrol Harry turned to a conversation much closer to home.

“Yeah, going to that new jazz place up town.” Ron kicked a chunk of burnt wood down the street in front of him watching as the darkened oak crumbled as it hit the coble in front of the pair.

“You don’t like jazz.” Harry huffed his eyes easily scanning each shop front window out of habit. Voldemort may have gone but he’d left in his wake habits of survival that Harry just couldn’t shake.

“No, but Hermione does and I don’t argue with my darling fiancée if I can avoid it.” Harry smiled knowingly over at Ron who chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Only because you know you’ll loose.” Harry joked earning him a swat across the ear for his trouble. The pair continued to joke with one another as they wandered down the street. Harry went to remark again on Hermione’s control of her husband to be but fell silent as the sound of breaking glass came from behind them. Automatically both young men went for their wands, instinctively splitting up to lay flat against the walls of the shops hidden in the shadows as they listened again. In the four weeks they’d had Knockturn Alley as their beat, the pair had heard nothing but fighting cats, whining wind and the sounds of their own voices. This was something new, something interesting. Old habits had Harry reaching for his forehead wiping away a phantom trail of blood from a scar that had faded a long time ago. On Ron’s signal they began to move, sliding their way up towards where the sounds were coming from. It was a shop they’d passed a thousand times before, a seedy little apocathary that had once housed an equally seedy old witch and her beloved potions. The door to the shop was open the Ministry red seal of inspection broken and flapping loose in the wind. Harry gripped his wand tightly as he slipped up the steps carefully avoiding treading on the broken glass so as not to alert the intruder to his presence. Ron was close behind him the duo falling into the formation they’d walked into battle with during the war. It was a formula that had kept them alive even in the toughest of spots.

Slowly Harry entered the darkened shop and glanced around, instantly spotting the figure hunched over near the counter scrounging through the hundreds of shattered potion bottles on the floor. Harry smiled to himself as he lifted his wand and pointed it directly at the figures hunched back.

“Immobilus!” The figure froze the instant the charm hit it stuck in the position unable to move. Taking their chance both Ron and Harry ran over to their captive and dragged back the hood of the darkened figure.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the ferret.” Ron spat as he relaxed back against the dusty counter having instantly recognized the blonde mop of long hair, and the thin pale features.

“Looting from a sealed premises is a ministry offence Malfoy.” Harry flicked his wand and reversed the charm, having first patted Malfoy down for his wand and removed it safely out of reach.

“I should have suspected they’d have put you two moron’s back on the streets.” Draco Malfoy stood up shrugging what remained of Harry’s charm from his body as he faced his two captors. “Still wearing trainee green I see, I would have thought they’d have thrown you out of the academy by now.” Draco Malfoy had grown up like the rest of them had after school. The young man was now the spitting image of his father, although a little thinner and less well mannered. Like most he too had been touched by the war, the icy grip of Voldemort’s reign robbing the young Malfoy of his remaining family and very nearly his own life. But despite everything he’d been through he was still as unpleasant, foul mouthed and irritatingly nasty as he’d ever been in school.

“You’re avoiding the question Ferret features, what are you doing here?” Ron didn’t stand for crap any more and rose up to his full height a good centimeter or two above Malfoy’s slender frame. Ron like his brothers had grown into a typical gangly, tall, freckled Weasley and took pride in his height and toned physique.

“Doing more than you it seems Weasel.” Draco defiantly spat in Ron’s face but before the Weasley could hex him Harry had stepped between them.

“Malfoy.” Harry warned fingering his own wand purposefully in clear view of the blonde. Malfoy knew better than to fight and simply stepped a little way back so that he had distance between himself and the two training Auror’s.

“I’ve got a living to make, and some of the rarer ingredients are hard to come by now days thanks to your little lot so I thought I might help myself to what remains of them in here if indeed there is anything salvageable after your pack of raving Thestrals have come through.” Draco straightened his cloak and held his palm out towards Harry waiting for his wand to be returned.

“Stay out of here Malfoy, don’t give us an excuse to arrest you.” Harry warned as he slapped the blonde’s wand down into his palm a little harder than was actually necessary. Draco didn’t flinch though and merely sniffed indignantly at both young Auror’s before striding off out of the shop leaving Ron staring at Harry in mild irritation.

“Why didn’t you charge him, it’s illegal to loot.” Ron snapped as he and Harry strode out of the shop making sure to reseal the door with the Ministry stamp before continuing on their beat.

“It’s not worth the paperwork for such a minor offence.” Harry muttered avoiding looking at his best friend. Just seeing Malfoy brought back memories for Harry, memories he’d rather forget than have haunting his dreams as they did frequently. It had been Draco’s tear stained face that had stared up at him from the field of battle, the boy clutching at his fathers lifeless body struck down by Harry’s own wand. Lucius Malfoy had been a casualty of war and Harry might not had batted an eyelid if he hadn’t considered that Lucius Malfoy for all his wicked deeds had still been Draco’s dedicated and loving father. It was the time that caused Harry pain, the time he spent thinking too deeply into every face he’d slaughtered that night. It brought him awful nightmares and just seeing Draco’s face again tonight had brought guilt flooding back.

“You’re full of shit Potter, you’ve got to stop doing this.” Ron snapped as they rounded the last corner into the dead end street that became of Knockturn Alley.

“I can’t help it Ron, his father…” Harry was cut off abruptly as Ron pulled him to a halt at the brick wall at the end of the alley.

“…His father was a murderer Potter, who cared less for his son than he did his house elves. Lucius Malfoy was a victim of his own stupidity and you have got to stop beating yourself up over it. Now come on, it’s late, I’m cold and Hermione’s cooking stew…” With a snap of his fingers the pair had apperated leaving behind a crackle of magic in their wake and a gust of cold air that nobody felt.

TBC>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A/N Alright so you've noticed I canned the other 'story' I began, mainly because I realised I'd already done the plot in another of my original's and I just wasnt' worth doing again, knowing that so many people had done it to death....Anyway this is a bit more interesting anyway and it's flowing easier for me so I hope it'll get a better response than my other. I will update more often as well too, with my BF pussy whipped into typing for me until my hand heals...god I'm a bitch when I want to be. Alright read and enjoy and please, please please review I love them so much it's addiction I can't break.

Cheers
RIFFRAFF