Rabastan counted the scratches on his wall. More than three weeks had passed since Harry's last letter. He had expected that boy would send him a letter. A thank you at the very least. But after three long weeks, staring without hope, Rabastan felt betrayed. Used. His father had spoken highly of the Potter boy. Called him literate, polite, and handsome. But if that boy was so polite, why didn't he send anything? Had he forgotten Rabastan?
A stone hit Rabastan's forehead. He looked up in irritation. Another pebble landed full on his nose.
"Stop throwing, you little childish nitwit!" Rabastan snapped.
"Only if you stop sulking," Fenrir said in a gruff voice.
"It is that I'm behind bars, Greyback, but otherwise I would have filleted you. And show you what I can do, sulking or not." Rabastan said halfheartedly.
He also knew that he was posing and that he liked talking to Harry ... yes, Harry ... a little too much. But what else could he do? For the first time in years, he had contact with a young, handsome and ambitious man. He tried to woo him, from a distance. He had even caught that impudent snake that usually burned and then ate the food of his cellmates. He still had blisters on his hands from the little cheeky thing. Well, he hoped he burned Harry... A little.
Rabastan sighed, who was he kidding. He hoped the little boy had a friend in that little crazy snake. When Rabastan read how Harry was treated by his friends and so-called 'family' - if Muggles may be called that - he wanted to protect and help him. But he had expected the boy to care about him too if only a little. He had expected a poorly written letter, but full of good intentions. A letter from which Rabastan could draw hope. Enough sense of friendship to help him endure on this terrible island.
Rabastan heard a heavy door open and slam shut in the distance. A few footsteps approached quickly. A soft knock came on his door.
"You have another letter, Lestrange. And this time also a parcel. We, unfortunately, had to open the parcel and checked it for contraband. We found nothing. Our apologies, it took a few days to have the parcel tested for everything. It's a blanket, a thin one. But it's nice. "
With those last words, the Auror pushed the parcel and letter through the opening under the door.
"Thank you Auror Bree. Any news from the Magic Community?"
"No, it's quiet. The Minister of Magic has appointed someone from the Ministry in Hogwarts to keep an eye on things. Dumbledore is not highly regarded these days. I'll bring you a newspaper soon."
Not much later it was quiet again on the highest division in Azkaban.
"What have you got there little brother? Have you finally got your love letter?" came Rodolphus's gruff voice.
"Dolf! You sound more like Fenrir every day! Where has your beautiful polished voice gone to, brother?" Rabastan teased. "I received a package. I'm going to check it out."
Rabastan opened the package with trembling hands. He took out a beautiful green blanket. It was indeed made of thin fabric. Not something he could lie under, warm and cozy. But it was a beautiful fabric, green with a black snake pattern. He saw runes embroidered on the sides. But he couldn't feel any magic. The runes were without magic. Bitter disappointment clawed its way through Rabastan. What good was a nice, but thin blanket?
He opened the letter. A photo fell out of the envelope. Curiosity won over his interest in the letter and he examined the photo. The photo showed a handsome young man. He had dark hair and bright green eyes. His eyes reminded him of the scales of a Romanian Longhorn, as green and dangerous as the dragon. The boy had a trained body, the clothes seemed molded to his shape. A wave of desire swept through Rabastan. A possessive feeling came over him, he wanted this boy. This young man.
The young man had a blanket in his hands, HIS blanket. He pointed his finger at an emblem on the blanket.
Rabastan started looking for the emblem. The photo helped a lot, it gave him the spot on the blanket where the emblem was located. He quickly found a small family crest, or so it seemed. The letters HP were in the middle, surrounded by a werewolf, a Grimm, a stag, and a raven.
'HP ', Rabastan thought. 'Harry Potter.'
A smile broke through on his face. He grabbed the photo and looked at the boy. That was Harry Potter. Rabastan kept staring at the boy, who he now knew was Harry Potter. The lust was still clear to him, and now that he knew who the boy was, he knew he wanted him. He wanted to own him. He wanted to take possession of those full, pink lips and give him pleasure. He wanted Harry on his knees in front of him, his hands in Harry's hair. He wanted to be able to hear Harry when moans slipped out from him during the throes of passion.
Rabastan groaned with desire. He felt his body react. For the first time in fourteen years, his body responded to a sexual impulse.
"Fuck." Rabastan groaned.
His thoughts went all over the place. Azkaban's fog had cleared and had been replaced by images of Harry. He knew Harry was way too young to act on his desires. He was also still stuck in his cell. But he knew he couldn't allow anyone else to claim that boy. Harry would be his.
With renewed interest, he picked up the letter and began to read. The beginning was written by his father. The second part was written by Harry.
Dear R. Singulier,
Or should I say: R. Lestrange? I must admit that it took me a long time to find out your secret. In the end, it was your father and Ekrizdis's book that made it clear to me who you were. The only thing I'm not sure about is which brother you are. I lean towards Rabastan, but that's just a feeling. So if you actually turn out to be Rodolphus, don't blame me.
Let me start by thanking you. Thanks for your help. For the book and for the snake. The book gave me a lot of insight into Ekrizdis and his mark. It is now clear to me what the mark does and what that means to me. Time will tell.
The snake is a little shit. And I mean that lovingly. Really. Jormy thinks he is a 60 ft long snake that can swallow entire armies. He constantly groans the worst things and has the greatest fantasies of burning and wiping out enemies. He's just a sweetheart. By the way, Jormy stands for Jormungandr, a name after his greatness.
Jormy has been living with me for over two weeks now. These weeks have been great. A lot has happened. I'm re-sorted at Hogwarts. This is not a common practice. I had to be sorted again because I was shortly expelled from school. You probably remember this with the arrival of the Dementors. The decision had been reversed, but my name had disappeared from the charter. Because of this, I was a new student again and I had to be re-sorted. Long story short: I ended up in Slytherin. Surprise! I know.
I'm doing well in Slytherin. Snape is still insufferable. But I can do my homework in the common room for the first time in four years. The tranquility is wonderful. My classmates are now used to me and I even have new friends. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott are my best friends. I dare to call them that. Theo is incredibly smart and likes to think outside the box. For example, he helped me a lot with your blanket, but more on that later. Blaise is a huge flirt, who has been applauding my eyes from day one. Apparently, they shine as bright as the finest diamond. Not that I care about that, but I like to laugh a lot at his attempts.
Besides Theo and Blaise, I also have Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson as friends. Pansy is simply insufferable, but she does it with such charm, you can't help but like her. She has been working on my haircut for weeks, you can see the result in the picture. My hair is quite long these days and I have to wear it in a bun. She calls it a "man-bun". Fortunately, I don't have to tie it uptight, because I wear it "casual chic". It gives me a dangerously handsome look. Her words, not mine.
Draco is different. He is very aloof. On the one hand, he is a friend and can be very exuberant. But his other side, the visible side, is very cool and distant. I don't really know what to make of it.
School is the same as always. I got permission from Professor Snape to take my OWL in Ancient Runes. If I close it properly at the end of the year, I can also take the NEWT lessons. For now, it is self-study. But I am glad that Snape took me seriously enough to register for the final exam.
Speaking of teachers, I haven't even mentioned Umbridge. In other words, the pink toad. What a vile, nasty woman that is. Her lessons are about nothing, we only read from the book. The handbook itself is a mockery: as if it were written for and by preschoolers. The only benefit of her lessons is that I can let go of my fantasies. I've already come up with twenty different ways to kill her with a "Wingardium Leviosa". Every way is glorious, by the way. And quite bloody too, but it doesn't bother me.
Jormy has offered to burn her several times. The little snake is very protective of me and wants to hurt her. I've had to stop him several times already; I don't want her to hurt him as well.
Because she does. Hurt me, that is.
She's been torturing me for two weeks with that feather of hers. It is now inscribed in my hand: "I must not tell lies."
Bitch. Disturbed toad.
Anyway, I digress.
She's the one who made sure I didn't have time to write. Between her "classes" and my work on your blanket, I had no time to write. Sorry. I just wanted to surprise you with the blanket.
Yes, the blanket.
The blanket is special. I asked your father how I can hide or disable magic. He has given me a book that explains blood magic. This really was a source of information! I managed to turn off all magic temporarily. You can activate it again. By 5 drops - no more, no less! - of blood adding to my emblem (see photo) associates your magic with the blanket. The Runes will then work and my magic will also work again.
The function of the blanket is evident as soon as it is activated. Think of it as my thanks.
I hope you're well.
Yours,
HJP
Rabastan blinked and read the letter again. Harry hadn't forgotten him but had just been busy with his blanket. He took hold of the blanket protectively. It was Harry's present to him, a convicted felon. He raised the blanket to his face and smelled it. He smelled something sweet, Treacle Tart, and something spicy, masculine ... Harry... Rabastan closed his eyes and imagined Harry. He smelled Harry and saw him smile at him. Rabastan thought the gift was already great, even without magic.
His eyes soon found the passage over his blanket. Five drops of blood were a small sacrifice, Rabastan thought. He found a sharp fragment on the ground and cleaned it with his shirt. He took the shard and cut his finger with it. He dropped exactly five drops of blood on Harry's emblem. The magic became visible almost immediately. The Runes lit up and radiated magic.
Rabastan wrapped the blanket around him. The feeling was indescribable. He felt warm and inundated with a sense of friendship and love. He smelled the scents he associated with Harry: sweet and spicy. The smells were more vibrant than ever before. For the first time since his imprisonment, Rabastan felt alive again.
For the first time in years, he could see again, really see. He looked around his cell. What he saw was depressing. Gray walls, with one small window. The space was otherwise empty, except for his 'bed' and toilet.
Rabastan got up and walked to the opening in the door. He could see into the hallway through the bars. For years he couldn't see beyond the passageway and now he could see the other cells. He saw Fenrir sitting, still firmly upright. He saw Rookwood huddled in the back of his cell. And in the corner of his eye, he saw his brother, for the first time in years. Azkaban's misery had robbed him of his brother's view, but Harry had given it back to him. His Harry.
Rabastan wanted to protect Harry. He would protect Harry from all dangers. He would make the Dark Lord see that Harry was his and that he was under his protection. That he was the future consort Lestrange. Rabastan was a possessive man and he had decided that Harry was his. He just had to make this clear to Harry, his father, and the Dark Lord. Because nobody touched the Lestrange family. Not even the Dark Lord.
Rabastan got up and picked up his bottle of ink and a piece of parchment. He had to make plans. Plans for after Azkaban. Plans for Harry.