Disclaimer: I do NOTown Harry Potter... Unfortunately.
NOTE: It's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for that. I'm gonna try to get this story moving again. Lol. So, don't be too upset if this chapter ends up being really short- I assure you that it will just be another filler before the plot thickens! :D
Well, the plot ends up thickening a bit at the end... Hmmmmm... I'll update again ASAP!
Not proof-read! Sorry about that!
You're Not Allowed To Leave Me
The moment Harry walked into the kitchen and saw his aunt, he found that the overwhelming urge to run into her arms was too strong to ignore. He did just that, wrapping his arms tightly around his aunt's pale frame as he attempted to dry his burning eyes before any tears fell.
"Harry, dear, what's happened?" Petunia asked as her arms wrapped around her nephew. He was trembling.
"I'm.. s-sorry," he tried to say around the fabric of her neatly pressed dress.
"Sorry for what, dear?" Petunia asked as she moved a hand into her nephew's hair to rub his head in the soothing manner he'd always favored when he was younger. She sent a questioning look at the young blonde who had followed Harry in to the kitchen. She noticed that he had changed clothes since she'd been gone. He cleaned up rather nicely, she thought even as her eyes darkened. If he had done anything to her dear Harry...
"For m-making U...uncle V-vernon angry," Harry said pitifully as his thin arms wrapped more tightly around his aunt.
"I don't know what you're talking about, darling," Petunia whispered as she looked back down at Harry. "What happened?"
But it was not Harry who answered her. The blonde stepped closer, his posture looking very tense as if he was ready to strike. Surely he wasn't mad at Harry, Petunia worried. She rotated their embrace just enough to where her back was predominately turned to the approaching blonde instead of her nephew's. Just in case. "That man" the blonde started as if the very word burned his toungue, "was a wretch, a cruel excuse for a human being whose rage is better suited for the dark ages or better yet, a well-hidden dungeon where his venomous words could not foul the earth and angels like Harry ever again."
Petunia, who should have been apalled at the stranger who dared to talk about her Vernon that way, with so much hatred and conviction... But, as she felt the trembling in her arms increase slightly and then felt the way Harry's arms tightened around her even more- which was nearly impossible- she felt her own anger begin to bubble. "Harry, what did your uncle say?"
She was relieved to hear that Harry had stopped crying when he replied. "It's not what he said, Aunt Petunia." He raised his head from her chest and looked up at her, his emerald eyes still watery. He looked the epitome of a kick puppy, and Petunia felt her anger with her spouse grow that much more. Who could be so hurtful to such an innocent teenager like Harry? "It's the way he said it. Yelling. Loudly. It hurt," Harry finished lamely.
Neither of the two noticed that Draco was close enough to wrap Harry in his own arms, so when he did just that, it took a few moments for them each to process the action. He pulled Harry flush against his t-shirt covered chest and gently tucked the unruly black hair beneath his chin- which was easy because he had six inches on the smaller teen. Petunia raised her eyebrow in surprise while Harry settled on blushing furiously, his previously sad demeanor forgotten for the moment.
Petunia was about to pull Harry out of those unfamiliar arms and interrogate the blonde with a vengeance, but before she had her chance, another confused member of the family walked into the kitchen.
"Did I miss something?" Dudley asked in confusion as he stepped into the room with the blanket from his bed wrapped around his shoulders.
"Lucius?" called a very hoarse voice as a very raggedly dressed man with shaggy, tangled brunette hair fell into a very large and very empty study. He mustered up enough energy to pull the rest of his legs from the green flames of the fireplace before they had a chance to turn orange again, he hadn't escaped from the pits of his own personal hell just to be burnt so easily by a small fireplace. Traveling by floo, or a magic black powder that granted the user the ability to travel from fireplace to fireplace, was the only way of transporting himself that the brunette could physically handle. After months of torture, a poor diet- when he was permitted food in the first place, and a case of severe dehydration, the weakened man was quite proud that he had been able to lift the floo powder to even survive his escape.
The man closed his eyes tightly, fighting the dehydration and emptiness plaguing his stomach, willed himself to push up from the ground until he was sitting. And then kneeling. And then finally standing, even while he was swaying dangerously on his feet. "Lucius?!" he called out as loud as his damaged, dry throat would allow him as he took his first step forward. As he thought he might, he lost his balance and latched onto the closest piece of furniture he could to avoid falling onto the ground. If he hit the ground now, he wasn't sure he would be able to muster up the strength to get up. And he'd already made it so far...
"Lucius!" he tried again, feeling the bitter taste of blood as his dry throat fought back at being pushed so hard. He kept a weak grip on the large chair- which had been the closest furniture to him- and took another cautious step forward. His balance was better, but he suposed that was because the chair was holding up most of weight- well what little weight he had left on his abused frame. "Damn that bastard," he whispered darkly as he thought of the twinkly-eyed monster who had had him locked away.
"Lu... Lucius!" he called again, growing angry that his throat would not allow him to scream any louder than a harsh whisper. After another two steps forward, the chair was already behind him and he needed another form of support. He looked around the study, easily seeing the other furniture pieces scattered around in the flickering light of the fireplace. The desk. It was closest. He took a deep breath to steel himself, ignoring the fact that the deep inhalation caused his vision to slightly blur and the room then appeared to be spinning slightly. With a huff of air he pushed off of the chair and immediately reached out to grab the top of the desk, knocking off a few random trinkets as he fell half-way on top of the relatively short desk top.
His next attempt to call out to the elder Malfoy died in his throat as he caught sight of a single picture that had been knocked to ground during his attempt at stopping his fall. He carefully held on to the desk with one hand and then slowly bent down to pick up the silver frame, a smile breaking its way across his chapped lips, his eyes growing bleary as the promise of tears burned in them. The picture was one he hadn't seen before. He didn't even remember posing for it! But there he was, smiling at the camera man with a beautiful blonde on one side of him and a laughing blonde baby in his arms on the other side. His family...
The brunette was torn from his reverie at the sound of footsteps approaching the study he was in. He quickly set the picture back down and listened intently for any clue that would tell him who might be heading his way. He wasn't disappointed. "My Lord?" called the blonde that he had been calling for since he'd flooed in. He hastily raised a hand to his unkempt mane of tangled brown hair in an attempt to press it down into the closest semblance of tidy he could. Then he wiped his face off as best he could with the aid of a mirror- even though his hands and arms were as dirtied and beat up as his sunken cheeks and cracked lips. He adjusted the striped prison wear he had on so it was no longer falling from his left shoulder and tried to tie the drawstrings of the pants even as his hands trembled. "I thought you were gone already!" the blonde called as he grew closer and closer until finally reaching the door.
The lights of the study came on as the master of the Manor grabbed the door knob and twisted it. The brunette tried to muster up his best smile even though he was absolutely terrified of how the blonde would actually react to see him there. "Did something happen wi-" but Lucius immediately stopped mid-sentence as he finally stepped into the study and saw the weak and beaten man standing before. "Sirius?" he asked after a few shocked seconds. His voice was barely above a whisper as if he thought that speaking any louder would cause the brunette to disappear into thin air.
"Hello, Lucius," the brunette whispered back, even though he wanted to scream at the top of his longs. (His poorly saturated throat would not allow him to get any louder.) "I'm home... If you'll h...have me."
The only answer he received was an arm full of crying blonde. Sirius felt hot tears hitting his chest through the thin material of his prison wear. He wrapped his arms- which had found strength in the blonde's presence- to wrap tightly around the blonde before him. "How did you escape?" Lucius asked without looking up from where his face was nuzzled into the too-thin neck of his mate, not very pleased with the sickly pallor of his once tan skin and the scattering of bruises all over the delicate skin. "No one ever escapes..."
"He could not keep me from you forever," Sirius answered honestly as he pulled Lucius's face up so he could see the silver eyes and pale skin he'd been missing like the food and water that had been kept from him. He pressed a gentle kiss to the blonde's forhead before he leaned back heavily against the desk, never releasing his hold on the other male. He didn't have any time to say or do anything else as, finally, the weight of everything he'd gone through, suffered, survived, and done in order to make it to this exact moment came crashing down on him full force. The study around him began to fade away into nothing as the exhaustion, hunger, dehydration, and weakness from being held captive finally claimed him into unconsciousness.
At least, if he died right then, he got to see Lucius one more time...