A/N: Now that's more like it! Thanks to everyone that accepted my invite, and thank you to those putting up with my Dark!Harry. I just think a guy that's been through a lot.

Thanks to Muentiger, Vizi, Batmarcus, Tomazine, BountyHunterGirl134, Potter, Adeline Potter, Annabelle4.0, AnimationNut, MySuperAwesomePenName, deathmunchingoreoslayer, ginnygirl528 and Susan Sewell.

In this chapter: We find out Zia's reason for being imprisoned, besides her being a threat to her father's business, I mean. Zia is not normal... but I guess we already knew that when she pulled a gun on her attacker...

For the inspiration of this story, my other best friend, Ruan.

Chapter 3: New measures.

When Eugene Long had contacted him a month ago, he had expected everything except this! He didn't know she was this much of a fighter! And where the bloody hell did she learn how to handle a gun? The photographs showed him a bloody room, feathers everywhere and torn bedding. He'd been there to see the scene for himself, but still – it frightened him.

"Mazia!" He yelled, his voice trembling. Said girl poked her head in through the door, a towel wrapped around her head.

"What?" She barked from under the towel, she was rubbing her hair dry.

"Where did you learn to handle an arm?"

"I've been shut up my whole life, what else would I have done in my free time?"

"Don't you know why I locked you up?" He demanded. Zia threw the towel to the servant-girl that was passing her room.

"Enlighten me." She said in a bored tone.

"You are an illegitimate child, and you hold a threat to my business."

"I knew you were a selfish bastard." She said casually. "So I've been locked up since I was... four? Because I proved a threat to your business? Because of your lack of self-control? And... oh, my oddness must've had something to do with it too, right?"

He blushed. Her oddness was the main reason for her imprisonment. Her weird abilities...

"Sir?" David Stine pulled himself out of the memory. The two assassins had entered his office and were standing in front of his desk.

"You did it?" He asked. Potter nodded, or Mr. Horntail as he preferred to be called.

"Obviously." Mr. Ferret sneered. "What did you want us for?"

Stine signed the cheque with a flourish of his pen and handed it to the nearest man, Mr. Horntail.

"I have another job for you." He said. "But it's a bit different."

"Oh?" The blonde lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes. It concerns Mazia."

"You want us to murder your own daughter?" Potter asked, affronted.

"No!" He yelled, insulted. "Heavens, no!"

"What then?"

"It concerns her protection."

"Go on."

"She was targeted a month ago," He began, extracting a folder from his top drawer. He pulled out the photographs taken from her bedroom, of Vicky the nanny and of the murdered security guard. He shoved the folder across the desk, and Potter scooped it up. He opened it, flipping through the pictures.

"Someone shot these people?"

"Yes. And the person in the last photograph? He was one of the top assassins the underground had to offer."

"Was?"

"I had him taken care of." Stine said lightly. "The point is, Mazia was targeted."

"Who shot the man?"

"She did. I don't know how she can manage the weapon, but she can – and she did it without blinking."

"Why is she targeted?"

"She is my daughter, I have many enemies. Many know of my exploits here in the underground, and they know if she was dead, I'd most probably surrender."

"Would you?"

"Yes."

"That's something." The blonde said, appraising him. Both the assassins wore black cloaks, identical cloaks, and sunglasses. Stine was under no disillusion, he knew under those heavy cloaks they most probably each stowed at least two armaments. One wrong move on his side, and he was done for.

"I need you two to become her guards. She's in danger, and she is already so heavily guarded. Electric fence, barbed wire, a fulltime security team completed with cameras. Yet a man snuck in and nearly killed her!"

"This is not our usual task, sir."

"I realize that – therefore I am willing to triple your usual income for this. It will include new living quarters, seeing as you need to live in."

"Both of us?"

"I'd prefer it if you did it one at a time, I still need a hitman."

Harry and Malfoy looked at one another, considering it. By this time in their partnership, they could see the other's thoughts almost as clearly as their own.

One stiff nod.

"We'll do it."

. . .

"Are you sure about it, Potter?" Malfoy asked once they were in their home.

"Yes. Think about it, Malfoy. If she's a target, it means more, difficult, challenging killings."

"Adrenaline."

Harry smirked. "Clever boy."

Malfoy took off his heavy cloak and hung it on the hook near the door. He then put the heavy arms on a table, reserved just for that.

"Don't patronize me." He sneered in reply.

"What else should I do?" Harry whined.

"Read a book." Malfoy suggested. Harry rolled his eyes.

"How about we talk?"

"About what, do enlighten me?"

"What happened the night you came here."

Malfoy gasped.

After the war, everything was off. He that was Draco Malfoy was a hated figure. It didn't matter that he'd once saved Potter's life in his own home, no, it didn't matter that his mother had saved Potter and by far the wizarding world. No, wherever he went he was looked upon with scorn, hatred… he was banned from every wizarding establishment. Except his home.

But there he didn't want to go either. It was a dreary, haunted place, tainted by dark magic. Even his mother didn't want to live there. His father had burnt it down. All that remained of the once prestigious manor was ashes.

He wanted out. Sick of being outcasted.

He'd found himself in a park one night on his way to a hotel he was temporarily living in whilst finding his feet. He'd sought seclusion in the muggle world, figuring they didn't know who he was.

He'd been surrounded and beaten to the ground within seconds. He was entered. Time on time again, he was violated. His screams were muffled by countless hands.

He didn't know how many there were. He didn't care. All he cared about was getting this over with.

Eventually it stopped. And they left him. Bloody, violated, crying… they left him for dead. Their figures hobbling away. He reached for his mother's wand, miraculously unbroken. He trained it on the leader.

"Avada Kedavra!" He gasped. The green light hit him, and he crumpled. His mates looked on in confusion. He swiped his wand again, and again…

He got up later, much later, rejoicing in the fact that he wasn't dead. Gathering himself as much as he could.

Thankful for the night, he limped to a door. Slumping against to inspect his wounds. The door was wrenched open, the unexpected loss of the door making him fall flat on his back, a muggle weapon raised on him.

Do it, he thought, closing his eyes. Nothing can be worse than this.

"Malfoy?" The voice sounded incredulous.

He opened his eyes, recognition setting in. Harry Potter. A pair of hands were under his armpits, dragging him inside.

In the month that followed, Draco was nurtured. Potter had surprised him with this action. He was given food, a bed, companionship… A week after Potter dragged him into his home, he got up.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, making Potter jump.

"Do what?"

"Take me in."

Hesitance.

"I don't know. Pity, I'd say."

"What a sweet sentiment."

"There is absolutely nothing sweet about it. I've killed before, Malfoy, and not just Voldemort."

"Why the muggle contraption?"

"I don't believe in magic."

Those words seemed incredibly sad to Draco at the time.

"I'm not going to talk about it." Draco snapped. Potter's eyebrow lifted.

"Malfoy, you are, as the saying goes, indebted to me. Surely I deserve the story?"

"I'd give you the memory." Draco said, knowing the reaction he'd get.

"Screw you, Malfoy."

. . .

Zia refused to leave Vicky's room. Her own room was soiled by the murderer's presence. For a month she stayed in the room. Doing nothing, not even completely eating. She just stared out in front of her.

"Zia?" Eugene entered the room. She spared him a look before looking back out the window. She sat on the bed, clutching a pillow. Nature was at its best in the outside world. Green, colourful, lively. She saw the butterflies beat their wings cheerfully, a grasshopper hopped from one spot to the other. "I've got news."

She looked at him again. Her eyes were still the murky green it had been after she found out about the murder.

"And?"

"Before I tell you, you have a visitor."

"If it's David, tell him to go to hell."

"It's not. It's Ernie."

The boy appeared in the doorway. He was two years older than her, had blonde hair and a semi-pudgy face. He himself had a lean build with muscled arms.

"Zia…" He said, sorrow in his voice. Zia flew up and threw her arms around his neck. He held her close to him. He'd known her since she was eleven; he had been thirteen at the time. He was her tutor in controlling her… oddness, as she put it. Her father refused to let her own a wand. But her magic was there, and it was strong, though she deferred from using it. He was the only who knew, besides David, Vicky and the head of security.

She would be eighteen in a few months' time. And he would take her away, he decided. His little sister in many ways but blood, but he'd take her away.

"I'm so, so sorry." He said into her hair. "And I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier."

"It's fine." She said, burrowing her head in his chest. "You're here, that's all what matters."

Ernie stayed for a few hours, holding her hand, listening to her talk. Eugene was relieved, she'd finally started to open up.

"Mr Long, phone for you." His walkie-talkie sounded. He made his way to his office, which was in the far side of the house.

"Yes?" He said into the speaker.

"I've arranged for new security, Mr Long, they will be arriving shortly."

It meant he had to show Ernie the door. Ernie wasn't to know about the new security.

. . .

"So this is it?" Malfoy asked, looking at the house. Though calling it a house was possibly an insult.

"He's got money, Malfoy." Harry replied. "He must think money can buy love."

"Money isn't exactly everything."

"Say we."

"Yes. Think about it, when have we ever spent our income on anything besides the basics and new arms?"

"Don't utilize me." Harry snapped at him. "I know money isn't everything. But how else will they take us in? We're adrenaline junkies, you moron."

"You pain me, Potter."

"Do I now?"

"Shut up."

"At least it's not 'screw you'."

"Seeing as that would be highly inappropriate."

"Exactly."

Neither of them were sure what these bantering comments meant, was it friendly or more meant in manner of sarcasm?

The tall wrought-iron gates opened, almost as if in slow-motion. It made Harry think of Hogwarts a bit. They were in a car Stine had given them, their bags packed, mostly loaded with arms, in the boot.

A tall man awaited them. His hair was in a modern cut. He waved at the car that was leaving the gates they had just entered. Harry caught sight of the driver – for a moment he thought the person was familiar.

"Messrs Ferret and Horntail." He said once they were out of the car. "I am Eugene Long. Head of Security." They shook hands.

"For the record, we're Malfoy and Potter. Now that we're joining the security business." Harry told him, motioning to himself and Malfoy when their last names were mentioned.

"And not to mention that I loathe being called a ferret." Malfoy commented.

"Get over it."

"I don't trust either of you." Long said. "I don't trust Stine either. My superior is Mazia Stine, I take her orders only. If I find out you two tried anything, I won't hesitate."

With that he turned around, motioning with a finger for them to follow them.

"Friendly greeting." Harry said under his breath, causing Malfoy to snicker. Their bags were being taken to their new quarters by one of the servants.

"You are to meet Miss Stine first." Long went on. "Then the maids will show you to your rooms. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are to be taken with me, Miss Stine and, if they are here, Mr Stine and Ernie when you are here. Ernie is her tutor." He didn't beat around the bush.

"Was it him that just left?"

"Yes. If he asks, you're my guests."

"Why?"

"Here we are." Long announced, ignoring the question. They were outside a study. He lifted a hand and knocked softly. The door opened, revealing a girl, nearly an adult. Green, murky eyes with long, dark hair.

"Zia, this is…" Long began.

"My new security." She finished in a cynical tone. "Of course. Your names?"

"I'm Harry Potter." Harry introduced himself, extending a hand. She took it and shook – she had a firm grip.

"Draco Malfoy." Malfoy said, also extending a hand.

"What makes you two so special?" She asked. Her manner wasn't friendly. In fact, it seemed as if she loathed them. "And how old are you?"

"We're highly trained individuals." Malfoy answered. "And we're two years your senior."

"I see. Is that all, Eugene?"

"Yes." He said, nodding. She closed the door with a snap again, returning to the table. Eugene had given her a stack of papers. Documents, newspaper clippings, receipts… all to do with Vicky's murderer, and her would-be murderer. Apparently, the attacker was an assassin. Hired by none other than her father's rival. How predictable.

A grateful note: Thank you to all who reviewed. I will get to your stories, I promise.