Authors Notes at bottom of page.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, Harry, Snape and Draco would be in a complicated (sex filled) love triangle, Fred and George would be twincest-ing in a corner somewhere (in explicit detail), Sirius and Lupin would have gotten together, no one who died in the final book would have died except the baddies (to avoid giving you all spoilers), Hermione would be rotting in some dark, dank pit somewhere, there would be MANY creepy and crazy (mostly slash) couplings going on and…um…it kinda continues on that tangent for a while.

Warnings: This is a random little drabble from a dementor's point of view, focusing on our precious little Golden Boy. It hints a little at romance, I warn you. Lovers of canon run away now. Not sure if it should be considered slash or not, since the dementors gender isn't really mentioned, so go with whichever you prefer (I prefer to think of him as a male, but that's mostly because I find the idea of a female dementor both odd and insanely funny). Don't like the sound of the fic? Press my good friend, the handy little 'back' button. That will hopefully guide you away from this nonsensical rubbish…

Rated 'T' because I was unsure whether to put it as k+ or higher, so it's 'T' for safety I guess.

Reviews cherished, flames used to roast marshmallows at the next 'slash fan girls convention'.

Word count: 1146


Oh how that boy aggravates me. That stupid child, always slipping between my fingers! He's like trying to grasp at smoke, the atoms dancing between your digits before dissipating into the air. Infuriating! Three times I've faced him now, three! And each time he manages to crawl away completely unharmed!

My instinct drives me. That's all we dementors are really, basic instinct. Our anger and lust for food drives us on, constantly on the lookout for fresh souls to harvest, to feed off of, in an attempt to quench our insatiable hunger.

Sometimes I wonder though. Sometimes there is something underlying that pure, raw urge to hunt, to take, to feed. It is slight, nothing more than an irritating twinge in the depths of the subconscious, but still it is there. It is nothing like my instincts, my hunger, though it feels familiar in some way, perhaps an emotion, an instant of feeling buried beneath waves of anger and lust. But dementors do not feel emotion.

Then again, what is a dementor? Our memories are foggy and brief, leaving us to know nothing of our origins. And dementors are rarely known to breed. I'm not even sure how to differentiate the males from females of our species, or if there even ARE males and females. So perhaps it is possible we were not always dementors. Perhaps we were once human. It seems impossible, but would explain the slight emotions attempting to form in my mind. And we dementors do not feel the effects of time, we do not age. We could have been turned into dementors hundreds of years ago, far too long for any dementor mind to remember what happened. We are lucky to remember anything that happened more than a few years prior to the present anyway.

But that boy…

I remember every detail of every encounter, despite it having been at least 5 years since the events. He will no longer be the boy I knew, but a young man. But to me he will always be a boy. MY boy.

I first encountered him at the beginning of his third year, on the train to Hogwarts. I was sent to check for an escaped prisoner, Sirius Black, and of course checked the boy's cabin…

His spirit blew me away. He was human like all the others, but his soul held something powerful, consuming. His presence was strong and overwhelming, and I could not help but sample the boy who sat beneath me, frightened, sparkling green eyes staring up at me.

I was soon blasted away by a teacher, but those few seconds was all it took. I had sampled from the boy-who-lived, and had never tasted anything so delicious. His soul was sweet and warm and immensely powerful, and though my lips had never touched his own pink ones, I knew I would never taste anything quite so wonderful again.

I had to have him.

I encountered him twice more during the year, once during a Quidditch match, where I almost destroyed the boy in my haste to sample some more of that beautiful spirit. The final time towards the end of the year, where my fellow dementors and I had found him with another human. I almost had him that time, was so close to delivering my kiss, when I was blasted aside by a patronus, the stag-shaped magic blasting me from my prey.

Since that day I have not seen him. After that year I was sent back to guarding Azkaban, the inmates offering entertainment and a temporary reprieve from hunger, but still I find myself more imprisoned then the inmates themselves. What I would give to fly free of these stone walls and search for my boy, but it would never be permitted, and it is terribly difficult to escape this dank dungeon.

So I reside here and wait for my chance, using the time to dwell on my thoughts, on my boy. Lately those pesky emotions have been trying to breach my mental barrier more than usual, whenever I think of the boy. It leaves me to question whether I have, perhaps, an ulterior motive for finding the boy, whether I just want to feed from him or, something else. Exactly what else escapes my mind for now, but I'm sure the idea will present itself in time.

The problem now is I'm not sure whether I even want to feed off the boy anymore. His taste is too strong, too insanely delicious. I want it all, want to clamp my mouth over his and drain his soul, feel it warm my rotting body, but at the same time I don't want to destroy it, to taste it one final time and then live without it forever. I need to preserve him, to protect him, so I can sample that taste again and again, as long as it takes to get my fill.

Again those emotions swirl within, rising up and calling out to me. I sense I am near a breakthrough, that the answer is so close, just over my mental horizon, but I cannot quite grasp it. Somewhere inside me, perhaps in those old, long forgotten emotions, is the answer to all this, the reason I want the boy so badly, my ulterior motive that not even I am quite aware of.

My hunger overpowers me, and I drift down the damp hallway, slipping into one of the cells and swooping down on the terrified prisoner, cutting off his garbled screams with my cold lips and feasting on his soul. It satisfies the hunger yet fills me with a strange combination of rage and lust, smouldering in my mind. I drift from the cell, confused, leaving the empty husk to whittle away its days in solitude.

Someday I would learn what I wanted. Perhaps through allowing those troublesome emotions to break through the barrier or by some other means, but I would find out. No matter how long it takes.

And when I find out, I will break free of this prison and hunt. Day and night I will hunt, for years if I must, till I find my boy again. My boy, no matter how old he gets, family or no family, he will always be my boy.

And mark my words. I will take what I please from you, my boy, whether you like it or not, no matter what it is I end up taking. Your soul or, something else…..

So keep your eyes on that horizon, Harry Potter, because one day you are going to see the sky's darken and the water freeze and you will know I have finally come for you.

And I will touch you and taste you and kiss you, and fulfil that burning desire locked away within me.

And I will feed.

Oh, how I will feed.


So, how'd you like it? Good, bad? Review and tell me, flame, concrit or praise, I can take 'em all!

My apologies for the unorthodox coupling choice, but I think someone had to take a stab at it. It's so hard to find adventurous writers nowadays tuts.

Well, this idea was completely out of the blue. I was watching the third Harry Potter movie earlier while babysitting and, while perusing fanfics later on, random ideas for a fic began popping into my head and I had to jot them down, leaving me with this little one shot. Not great, but it'll do.

And don't nag me to continue this, please. I'm trying to keep myself from these kinda temptations, I'll just end up beginning a lemon and get stuck half way through with another unfinished project, so don't. The beauty of one shot's is they don't have to be updated, so don't nag me to (lest you get your way and my workload is added to).

In any case, hope you all liked it! Thanks for reading. Reviews are cherished!