Guardian Angel

I just realized that I took a situation from Incessant_Darkness and then never wrote it. O_o. Well, here it is! ^__^ (also, go check out the ones he/she has left. they're pretty cool.)

***

The night was colder than it ought to have been, especially at seven in the evening, but the sun had already set and the waves sent a chilly spray into the air with every crash against the rock they pounded against.

Briefly, Harry wondered if the water would ever wear away the stone, sending the prison into the icy depths below, and then decided that there was little chance of it; there were probably spells against it. The wind howled outside the tiny window, echoing through the nearly empty halls. The majority of the Death Eaters contained within the sea-bound prison were in lower levels than he was currently, but he suspected he might be thrown down there one day for amusement.

Sitting up slowly, he wrapped the threadbare blanket around himself hoping for even the small amount of comfort it afforded him. It wasn't much, granted, but it, combined with the equally threadbare prison robes he was wearing, combined to provide a little more warmth than either alone would have.

The dementors were slowly returning to the prison, one by one, and Harry could feel their presence in the very marrow of his bones. The cell itself was likely to drive one mad; combined with the never-ending crash of waves, the howling of the wind, and the dementors themselves, it was no small wonder Azkaban had such a nasty reputation.

He'd really never expected to be relegated to the island, and having spent a few weeks in the holding cells beneath the Ministry, had assumed that that was it. He'd been wronged by the Ministry before, however, and this was no exception. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, was apparently out with a sickness that the healers at St. Mungo's couldn't identify. Harry himself suspected dark magic, but Imelda Umbridge, Dolores' wicked sister and Vice Minister insisted that he was yet again, out of his mind.

He'd been taken from his home in Wiltshire under the cover of darkness, Imelda's people sneaking into his bedroom and stunning him before dragging him off. He'd spent a few days in the holding cell awaiting a trial for stirring up trouble against the ministry, and was again subjected to a trial that was more farce than fact. His crimes had been listed, and he suspected that everyone who'd ever been wronged by him in the slightest had been called in to help create it. Lying under oath, disturbing the peace, disturbing the Ministry, plotting in ways that were not Ministry-friendly, attempted murder, dissention - the list went on. Imelda Umbridge read the charges almost gleefully before putting out that his sentence was to be ten years of Azkaban time.

All this, just because they didn't like what he'd mentioned casually after a Quidditch game.

If I ever get out of here, I think I will make a run for Minister. Shacklebolt won't be too happy, because I'm sure I can get his job if I wanted it, and the first thing I'd do would be to sack everyone who's name even sounds like 'Umbridge'.

Thoughts of what the Umbridge sisters' faces would look like entertained him well into the wee hours of the night, and he was finally relaxed enough to close his eyes and maybe drown out the sound of the wind enough to sleep. He was exhausted, and hadn't slept at all in nearly three days. Before that, he wasn't sleeping well at all to begin with. The return of the Dementor's to his cell block, the sound of their raspy breathing and icy aura kept him awake at night.

Turning onto his side on the dingy, stained mattress they'd given him ("Only the best for our little savior, darling," Imelda had bleated at him) he tried to block out the pressure of the prison, squashing him down until he wasn't himself anymore.

He reminded him of the better times in his life, with Ron and Hermione, and wondered how they were getting on with their first child. Rose was only a year old, but she was promising to be quite the brain-child, much to Ron's pretend horror.

Truthfully, Harry couldn't have been happier for them, but he did wish that the lot of them would stop pressuring him to pick it back up with Ginny. She was happily settled in with a boyfriend, but her family never stopped dropping hints that she was still carrying a bit of a torch for him.
She wasn't what he wanted. She might have been, when he was younger, but he knew his own mind now, and was able to step on a few toes, even those of his surrogate family.

Thinking about the Weasley's made him smile, and it wasn't until the fog rolled quietly into his cell that he realized that he wasn't supposed to think of good thoughts like that; it attracted Dementors.

They weren't allowed into the cells, but they could squeeze bits of themselves through the bars, like their hands, reaching out for the warmth and joy of the prisoner within.

Harry withdrew as far from the Dementor as he could, pressing himself into the icy stones behind the bed. He'd be getting no sleep tonight, it seemed.

Watching the beast through hooded eyes, Harry waited for it to get bored and leave. He wished suddenly that he'd managed the animagus transformation after all; that Sirius or his father had remained alive long enough to tell him how they did it. Still, he felt he was close to achieving it before they'd put him here. Now he didn't think he'd ever manage it.

The grey terror turned away from him, making a nearly inaudible hissing noise, and then suddenly the gloom was broken by a shining streak of light as a large, four-legged Patronus swept by, clearing out the Dementor.

If it hadn't suddenly become so preternaturally quiet, he might never have heard the whispered, "Reducto!" the preceded the blasting inwards of his cell door. Gaping at the hole, he blinked upwards into the blinding light of a lumos. The spell cast shadows over his rescuer, who appeared to be covered from head to toe in black clothing.

"Who... what?"

"Shh, no time now. Hurry up, come on!" Still blinking back the pain of the bright light in his unadjusted eyes, Harry staggered up off the bed, covering his eyes to shade them from the light. Moving over towards his rescuer, he tried to get a better look at them. He didn't recognize the voice, but didn't know of anyone who would storm Azkaban and break him out. Hermione and Ron didn't even know where he'd gone; he'd been forced at wandpoint to write them a letter detailing the false fact that he was leaving for a while, and not to expect him back any time soon.

"Where are we going? Who are you?" Harry asked again, quietly. He was shushed again, and something thrust into his hand. It appeared to be a bag, but he didn't know what would be found within.

"Hurry, we don't have much time. That Dementor'll be back with buddies soon, and if there are any guards left around, the noise'll bring 'em quickly enough."

Opening the bag, Harry found a pair of boots, socks, pants, trousers and a shirt, along with a heavy robe and his wand.

"My wand-" he started, preparing to ask how this mysterious benefactor came upon it.

"No time now, change! Hurry!"

Almost three months spent in the miserable prison had already taken their toll on him, and it was with little modesty that he stripped off the prison robes and slipping quickly into the warm, solid clothing that had been brought for him. Sighing with happiness - there was a heating charm on the bag, and the clothes were almost hot to touch, like towels fresh out of the dryer - he took his wand, and stuffed the bag into his pocket.

"All done? Good, lets go! I've brought a spare broom. It's not as good as your firebolt, but it'll do for the trip. Hurry up, we don't have much time!"

Hurrying along beside his rescuer, Harry tried to think about who it could be. They were taller than he was by a few inches, and a little bit broader, making them seem quite a bit larger. It was obviously a man, and his wand was made of a dark, lacquered wood. Racking his brain, Harry could think of no one who would have dared break him out, and then they were out of the main prison body and onto the landing platform for brooms and other flying vehicles. Harry could see two brooms bolted down nearby, and watched as his benefactor freed them with a whispered curse. He grabbed one up, fitting it beneath his body so quickly and comfortably that Harry added another item to his list about the mysterious rescuer - they must have played Quidditch at school, or else spent an awful amount of time on the broom to be so adept at handling it.

Sliding onto the other broom, he realized it was a Nimbus 2001, and smiled. He'd loved his Nimbus 2000, the first broom he'd ever owned. Then they were kicking off, and the journey across the dark, icy ocean was one that Harry was likely to never forget.

It took several hours. He was wet, cold, and exhausted by the time they were within sight of land.

"This is just a small island outside of Ireland," his rescuer called. "We're going to stay here tonight!"

This suited Harry just fine, as he felt ready to just fall off his broom and meet whatever fate had in store for him at the bottom of the ocean. He staggered to a halt in front of a small cottage, nearly falling. His legs were giving out beneath him when his rescuer caught him up, lifting him as though he were just a feather. Body heat soaked into him from the other man, and he didn't know if he dreamed the small 'thankyou' that slipped out or if he actually spoke it. Either way, the last thing he recalled was a deep, rumbling chuckle and a whispered word.

*

Waking up had never been hard for him before, and Harry couldn't understand why he was having such a hard time of it now. It was like his body was refusing to allow him to return to consciousness, while at the same time, his mind fought to wake.

Jerking upright, he blinked open his eyes, staring out a window that brought beaming sunlight into the room, warming it. He was dressed in the heavy sweater and trousers he'd been wearing on the flight from Azkaban, though the boots were missing from his feet. By this time, he felt almost too warm, and stripped the sweater off. He found himself in a muggle tee-shirt, and wondered at it.

"Oh, you're awake!" A small woman stood in the doorway, smiling at him. "Good to see you again, Potter. How did you sleep?"

Harry blinked at her. He was sure he'd never seen her before, and yet she obviously knew who he was. "I'm sorry, but... where am I? Who are you?"

She grinned. "My name's Maddie. Madelyn Corner. You're in my house, Tern Lodge." Looking out the window again, Harry could see the seabirds floating around outside on breezes. They populated the area outside the house itself, too.

"Um, Harry Potter," he said, feeling nervous.

"Don't worry, Harry, I know who you are." It had to have been his imagination, the small pause before using his given name. "Are you hungry? I'm not a terribly great cook, but I can follow a recipe."

Harry's stomach growled, and he grinned. "Yeah, I am. How long have I been sleeping?"

"Four days," Maddie pronounced. "I was getting a bit worried for you. You just didn't wake up. I tried everything but beating you over the head with a pot, but nothing worked. I figured I'd just let you sleep then."

He'd been away from his house and friends for a little over five months now. It didn't seem that long, now that he was away from the hellish prison. It was already fading into the background of his mind, the time in the dingy cell compressing from over three months to just a few hours. Pushing all thoughts of the dementor infested hovel to the back of his mind, he followed Maddie out into the kitchen.

The whole house had windows everywhere, allowing sunlight to come in and warm everything. It was tidy, and although there were nicknacks scattered throughout, it had a homey feeling. "You have a lovely house," Harry said, and thought Maddie blushed slightly before thanking him. She sat him down at a table, and plopped a huge plateful of food in front of him. Sausage and eggs, biscuits, bacon, pancakes toast and marmalade... Harry's stomach gave a pleased grumble, and he set to the fare heartilly. She ate a plate of her own sausages and toast, grinning at the way he wolfed down his food.

"This is magnificent," he told her. "Thank you!"

When they'd finished breakfast, Maddie sat down with Harry in the main room. "I've organized a few people at the Ministry to overturn your sentence. Imelda Umbridge has been sacked, and Kingsley has returned to his position. You've been pardoned, but it only happened yesterday. Before that, they were turning London upside down looking for you. No one could figure out where you'd gone, or how you'd escaped."

"There was a man. Did you see him? Do you know who he was?" Harry jumped on the topic. His rescuer had brought him here, he must have spoken to Maddie at some point!

"Why do you want to know?" Maddie asked, sounding a bit suspicious.

"I want to thank him," Harry said, deflating a bit. Maddie grinned.

"He knows you're grateful," she said, almost impishly. "Now, I was thinking that you'd better stay here a few more days until you get your strength back. It won't do to have the public see you passing out at every turn-"

Her voice faded out into the background as, fed and warm, Harry once again fell asleep.

*

When he next awoke, it was dark, and he'd been moved to the bedroom he woke up in the first time. At first, he didn't know what had woken him, but gradually, the sound of raised voices carried through to his bedroom.

"What have you done to him? He won't wake up!"

"He's just spent three and a half months in Azkaban you twit! He probably hasn't had a decent meal or a good night's sleep in weeks!"

"What made you offer, then? Why would you, of all people, want to help us break Harry out of Azkaban?"

"Because I know what it's like there, and I was there for something I deserved! He didn't deserve to be there, and hey, just because I was a nasty git in school it doesn't mean I'm going to be a nasty git my whole life, just like Granger was a manic, bucktoothed freak in school, and look at her now. I regret the things I did at Hogwarts, but I can't go back and change them. All I can do now is make my life a better one in the only way I know how."

"Mooching up to superstars like Harry?"

"NO, you prat, being a better person!"

The voices faded again, and Harry drifted off, too tired to care about who was talking.

The next morning, he woke early and wandered out into the living room. He was beginning to feel more like a human being, and wanted a change of clothes and a shower. Deciding to ask Maddie about it, he blinked into the living room. There were three glasses sitting on the table, two in front of the couch and one before the chair. The voices he'd heard the night before came back to him, and he realized that someone had mentioned Hermione's name.

Hermione and Ron had been here, talking to someone they hadn't liked in Hogwarts, and they hadn't woken him up? They hadn't told him they were here? What was going on?

"Morning," Maddie said behind him. "You'll be wanting a shower and a change of clothes soon, so here. Go ahead and use the bathroom while I get breakfast on."

Harry turned, ready to face anything, but just found Maddie. "Who else is here?" He asked, gesturing the cups.

She flushed. "It's just a habit of mine," She said. "A weird one, but I've never been able to break it." She pointed at the other cups scattered around the room. "It's just the two of us for now."

She handed off some clean clothes, and a towel, and pointed out the bathroom. "Go ahead and take a long time; the water heater's got a large tank."

"Thank you," he said, and kissed her on the cheek. The colour in her face darkened from pink to a dark red.

"Get on with you," she said not unpleasantly and moved past him into the kitchen.

Harry luxuriated in the shower, the feeling of the hot water scalding away the last of Azkaban's memory from his skin. It already felt like a fading bad dream, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to think about life outside the small cottage of Tern Lodge. It was like a pleasant dream after a horrific nightmare, but also preferable to reality for the time. He knew that soon the dream would become weary, and the confinement too much.

Dressing in the clothes Maddie had left for him, he wondered about the fact that they all seemed to fit him rather well. A little loosely, but better than the clothes of a small woman should fit him. Maybe she had a husband or boyfriend?

Wandering back out into the kitchen, he found breakfast sitting on the table, and a morose Maddie staring into her teacup. "This is for me?" He asked, gesturing the overly filled plate again. She grinned at him, but it didn't seem to quite reach her eyes.

He ate his fill, which was still quite a bit more than he'd expected at first, and then turned to her. She looked miserable.

"Harry, I'm sorry for lying to you." She said. "But it was the only way I could think of."

"What?" Suddenly, he realized that he'd allowed a complete stranger to take him in and feed him, and that it could have been poisoned, or laced with Veritaserum, or any number of horrific things --

She interrupted his train of thoughts by bubbling. Her features rearranged themselves, her body became larger, the baggy clothes tightened...

Draco Malfoy sat where moments before Maddie Corner had been, and Harry gaped at him.

"It's been you this whole time?" he asked. "You rescued me?"

"Yes, and yes," Draco said, still sounding miserable. "You can go at any time. Your friends are worried about you."

He realized that the voice he hadn't been able to place the night before had been his old schoolyard nemesis. Nemesis no more, but hero. No wonder Ron and Hermione had been worried for him!

"What about this house? Where are we?"

"Tern Lodge, like I said. It's one of my parents' vacation homes." He was still frozen in a flinch, expecting Harry to storm out at any moment.

Harry wasn't sure what he wanted to do. To his own great surprise, he stood up and hugged Malfoy. Draco, for his part, was too stunned by the action to do more than sit there, waiting for the axe to fall.

"Thank you for rescuing me," Harry said. "I mean that."

"You... You're welcome. Although it wasn't so much a rescue as an abduction."

Harry chuckled, and took a sip of his coffee. "Well, if good food and decent company is what I'll be offered, feel free to abduct me any time you like."

This time, they both laughed.

***
I like this. :3 It's a bit longer than I thought it would be, though I don't think that's a bad thing. I have ideas for a sequel, but for now, it's just a one-shot.