"Draco Malfoy?" Harry/Shadow asked in disbelief.

Draco shuddered at the sudden onslaught of memories and flashbacks that the name Draco Malfoy brought to his senses. Of course, a little nagging piece of him always knew that, always knew that he wasn't the assassin Amfylo, or the ordinary, boring Gregory Green. He knew that he was the one and only, Draco Malfoy. Over these last ten years, he had blocked that out of his waking memory. Only in his dreams did the truth look out at him, when he saw through the eyes of the boy that was ten years ago.

"Yeah," he choked out. It was lucky that that simple acknowledgement was only a single syllable, because a huge lump had suddenly appeared in the back of his throat.

"It's been a while," Harry whispered, sounding not unlike the shadow part he had played for the last ten years.

Draco, meanwhile, was still stuck on his name. His brain flooded with what used to be, and he wondered if the assassin Amfylo was in any way the same person as this strange Draco Malfoy person.

Amfylo was a person of the shadow, earning wages by slinking around; murdering people in their sleep to make ends meet. He was a hacker, a wanted man, and a dangerous criminal. He was a man of many faces and names to keep out of the grip of the law. Of course, Amfylo was smart enough to know that he would eventually be caught and dealt the cards of justice, but hey; life's a bitch and then you die, right?

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was very different, yet oddly, the same. Draco was the son of a wealthy, high-class family, whose most prominent worry was how to get revenge on the enemy 'Potter'. He was very outspoken, very sarcastic, and if he was displeased, the world knew in less than a clock-tick. Confused, angry, and sometimes neglected, he grew up a hard shell, which protected a human inside, which he rarely, if ever, showed. But the one thing that Draco Malfoy represented more than anything, was a singular, dangerous word. Amfylo regarded this word like a black hole; one wrong step and you slipped in and were gone forever into the black hells of it. This word was Magic.

Seeing that Draco was stuck in some kind of time lapse, Harry slid to the floor, and waited for him to stop staring blankly at nothing. When Draco looked down ten minutes later, he saw a sight that he had never thought he would see in a million years. Harry was smoking. Harry looked up and offered him a crumpled package.

"Cigarette?" he asked blandly, as if this was something not out of the ordinary. Draco couldn't find words, so he just shook his head.

My God, Draco thought. Have we really gone that far?

"So, would you mind telling me who sent you, now?" Harry went on, oblivious to the pregnant pauses that were happening frequently. Draco rubbed at the spot where he had been slapped before, and slid to the ground beside Harry.

"I honestly don't know," he sighed. Harry looked at him oddly, and Draco waved his hand. "No, I'm serious this time. I don't know. A guy met me at a bar, handed me a suitcase of money, and told me that his boss wanted you dead. Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on? I'm lost."

There was another very long pause, as Harry blew smoke into the air, watched it curl up into little ringlets, and dissipate into nothing.

"Have you been back recently?" he finally asked.

"Back where?"

"You know where."

"No..."

"You know, back from where you came."

Draco knew very well what Harry was trying to get at. It was an issue that Draco could compare with sex. Everybody knew it was there, in fact, most people thought about it very frequently. In open society, however, nobody spoke about it, because it was a very awkward subject.

"To the wizarding world?" he asked uncomfortably. Harry nodded slowly. "Not in ten years."

"Why not?" Harry asked innocently.

Draco shuddered. "I haven't wanted to."

"You're afraid to go back."

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but then he decided not to waste so much breath on lies.

"Well," he finally sighed. "I wasn't totally lying. I don't want to go back. Torturing me, however, is not answering my question. What the hell is going on?"

Harry sighed. "If you haven't been back, you might as well know that Voldemort has totally taken over the wizarding world. That person you were talking to? It was either one of Voldemort's prisoners or allies."

Draco barely stopped his mouth from dropping. He had come within a brush of death, and hadn't realized it. Or, he saw magic as death now, from his point of view.

"They want me in the muggle world, because Voldemort brainwashed the entire world, almost, into thinking that I was a hacker. That way if a muggle captured me, well, Voldemort had extra help, and most of society doesn't know it. Well, that's what I think, anyhow."

"How in the name of God did you escape from Voldemort? Wouldn't it be you he would want the most?" Draco asked, intrigued.

Harry shook his head and took another inhale of the cigarette he was holding. Draco coughed. Out of all of the terrible habits that he had picked up, he was thankful that smoking wasn't one of them.

"I was in the muggle world DeathDay," he sighed, tired of explaining.

"DeathDay?"

"My God, Malfoy. How long has it been since you were in the wizarding world? DeathDay is August fourth. The day that Voldemort took over. I sent five letters to Ron, and he never responded. I then managed to get my hands on an old copy of the Daily Prophet. It was front-page news. I can still see the headline now," he croaked, voice going deeper and gruffer with every syllable he spoke. His eyes got a glazed over look, as if he were reading the headline of that day.

"Voldemort Takes Over Hogwarts, it read. Staff Unreachable At Time. I knew right then that the wizarding world would not be there to welcome me. Going back to my aunt and uncle's house was out of the question, and well, to make it short, one thing built upon another, and this is how I turned out."

By the time that Harry had finished telling his story, Draco had a cigarette in his mouth, and was simultaneously drinking from a flask he held in his hand. These last ten years he knew things weren't going to be wonderful back in his 'old' world. But he didn't think that it would have been this bad.

"So," Harry concluded. "Why the hell are you here?" Draco shook his head.

"I'd rather not talk about that," he said dizzily. Maybe he could resist liquor by itself, but liquor and cigarettes were too much.

Seeing that Malfoy was rather out of his mind at the moment, Harry shook his head and stamped out his cigarette. He then looked down at Draco's hand; he shrugged and took the flask from it.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked.

"Nahrah," Draco babbled. He might have been saying something, but his words were so slurred that Harry couldn't make any sense of it.

"I didn't think so," Harry said.

Some say that when you are intoxicated to your highest points, you can sense things that others can't. Of course, reflexes and speech hit rock bottom, but certain things become very prominent in your mind. In his cloudy haze of a mind, Draco vaguely noticed that something not too far away was thumping rhythmically. It rattled in the ground, sending vibrations that seemed to shake Draco's bones. He moaned and slid farther down the wall.

"Don't walk so noisily," he begged to Harry. Harry looked down at him oddly.

"I'm not walking, stupid. What's up with you?" he asked Draco.

"Somebody is walking," Draco insisted. The thumping became more frequent, and louder to Draco's inflamed senses.

"Malfoy, I don't think - " There was a squeak, and a bright light shone right over Harry and Draco.

"Hey! You kids! This is private property...." a gruff voice yelled, before trailing off into nothing.

"It's Shadow and Amfylo!" a squeaky voice screeched. There was a bright flash to the left of Draco - a camera.

"Freeze! You're all under arrest!" The original voice pulled out a handgun and pointed it at Harry. Harry put his hands up. Draco, who was still rather out of it, didn't move.

"Any bright ideas, Potter?" drawled Draco to Harry.

Harry bit the inside of his lip. He could think of a way to get out of this, but it would involve killing people. Harry disliked bloodshed, but if it was the only way....

In the semi-darkness of the room, Harry slowly slid a hand down into into his inner robe. There was a small pistol concealed there. Removing it from its clip, he slowly rose his hand in the surrender sign again.

Quickly, while the officers were still unmoving in the silent staredown, Harry dropped, rolled, and shot a bullet between the lead officer's legs.

Confused, the officer turned around to see what he had been aiming at. Directly behind him, there was a large metal barrel with the words: Danger. Very Flammable. Keep away from fire. His eyes widened, but it was too late.

The two convicts were bolting through a door on the side, running like mad away from the warehouse. The man didn't even have time to scream.

There was a gigantic explosion that shook the ground, and a pillar of golden-orange lit the night, like sunrise was coming early.

Harry and Draco dove behind a mound of garbage as debris fell down like rain. Harry shuffled over to the side as a pipe fell down. Draco had collapsed against the stinking mound of trash, fallen from his intoxication and the sudden excitement. Harry wearily felt for a pulse. Draco's body must have been amazingly strong, because he was still breathing regularly. Finding that Draco was okay, Harry leaned against the pile and breathed in the thick, musty scent of discards, before dropping off himself.

Out of the eight men that were in the warehouse that night, only three of them survived the mass explosion. Two of them were Harry and Draco, known to the rest of the world as Shadow and Amfylo. The third was the photographer.

# # #

Escaped Felons Found Outside London

The man put down the newspaper, not really caring much about the muggle news. Flicking a hand to one of the gray-robed servants/slaves, he motioned for some water. Casually he sighed and picked up the paper and looked at the picture below the oversized headline. When he got a good look at it, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. This scared the people standing by his throne, waiting for his orders.

"Bring me a wand, an enlarger, or a magnifying glass!" he barked to the lot of them. "I don't care what excuse you have to make to get it, or how many things you pull to find them, get me one!" The servants took that as enough of a leave and scampered off in all different directions, not unlike scared mice.

The servant he had sent for water came carefully back with a large crystal goblet, struggling not to spill a drop of the liquid, or go too slow. She handed the large glass to her master, put his palms flat on her thighs and bowed low, as was custom now.

"Why didn't you stay all day?" the man snapped.

Even though the young girl's flaming red locks were toppled in front of her face, the man could see her cheeks go bright pink, and her body convulsed slightly in fear.

The man smiled. Even though he didn't show it outwardly, he was rather fond of this servant girl. Maybe one of these days he might assign her to be one of his 'room servants'. Everyone knew what a 'room servant' was code for, it was no big secret, but people preferred to use euphemisms for the subject. He lifted his hand and stroked the girl's head, as if conferring with an animal.

"What is your name, Pretty One?" he asked, deep baritone voice warm and friendly. "Rise and tell me."

The girl slowly let her hands slide off her palms and ball into fists. Even more slowly she raised her head and looked up at the man, surprised in the kind tone at which he was addressing her. The drab gray frock she was wearing was not flattering, and she was bone-thin, but she still had an air of timid meekness that made her rather attractive. Dull brown eyes looked at him wonderingly from a face, which the white skin was pulled too tightly over her skull. The only colorful part about her was her bright red hair, which hung limply to her elbows.

"Ginny Weasley, my Lord," she whispered meekly, brown eyes staring innocently into the man's own orbs of pale, pale blue.

"Mmmm. A Weasley. I should have known, with the red hair deal and all... well, thank you for the water, m'dear."

Ginny took that as enough of a leave, and retreated back to her spot on the wall, paler than before.

The man leaned back on his chair and took a small sip of the large goblet idly. The water was pleasantly cool, as well as flavored with crushed mint leaves. It was quite refreshing.

Finally, one of the servants came back with a magnifying glass, bowed with his palms on his thighs, and went to the wall. The man grabbed the magnifying glass, and peered at the picture on the paper.

It was quite blurry, and not too descriptive, but the man knew the two men who were in the distorted snapshot.

A bewildered looking Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter stared out of the non-moving picture. The man bit his lip. So it was true. The two fugitives from the wizarding world were still alive and kicking. They were also apparently making front-page news. Malfoy and the Lord had to know about this as soon as possible.

He snapped to his feet, and began yelling to his servants. "Find an excuse to get me to see your Lord, and Master Malfoy! I don't give a damn if you have to cut throats to do it! Tell 'em that Master Parkinson says that it's more important than anything right now!" Mr. Parkinson barked.

# # #

A very tired, dirty, smelly, and sore Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter blundered into 'Gregory Green's' apartment at about twelve the next day. They had woken up about three hours ago, managed to drag themselves out of the garbage dump, past the charred remains of Eure's Warehouse, and through London. Not really caring what Draco said, Harry collapsed on the small mattress.

"I'm going to take a shower now," Draco announced, running his fingers through his hair, and grimacing at the handful of grime he got.

"Have fun," Harry mumbled into the pillow. Draco exited into a door to the right. Harry managed to roll over and look around at Draco's apartment.

It was very small, and everything was crammed into the tiny room. A single window was open to let in the breeze, and thin white curtains fluttered in the wind. Below the window were a sink, a countertop, a stove, and a refrigerator that looked straight out of the 1960's. Over to the right, a cupboard was nailed next to the refrigerator, with one door missing. A recliner that was duct taped sat across from a small TV set; a table was jammed in the midst of it all. The bed that Harry was on had a metal bedframe, and a thin, pinstriped mattress. Harry wondered how a high-classed person like Draco could adjust from the high life and crash into the dump in a matter of days.

It was at this moment that Draco walked back in, wrapped in a towel. Harry groaned and rolled over.

"Christ, man! Put on some clothes!" he said, burying his head in the pillow. Draco gave a toothy grin.

"You're lucky I'm wearing anything," he said. Harry's eyes popped open. By Malfoy's tone of voice, he wasn't sure if he was joking or not. He sincerely hoped he was. Malfoy prancing around his apartment in the nude was.... Disturbing at the very least. Harry cursed his brain for thinking such thoughts.

When Harry turned over again, Malfoy was clad in a trenchcoat like he was the day before, and he was shuffling through the contents of his cupboard, before removing a small can.

"Coffee?" he asked, spooning some into a coffee maker. Harry sighed. He desperately wanted something warm to drink, but coffee was too bitter for him.

"You wouldn't happen to have any tea, would you?" he asked as politely as he could. Draco glared at him, muttering something about not owning a restaurant. After some more rummaging, he came up with a very dusty little tin. He blew some dirt off, and promptly coughed. Harry made a face.

"Coffee is fine with me," he said, forcibly agreeable. "I'm going to take a shower."

Draco was getting out mugs. "Have fun," he said. Harry walked in the tiny bathroom, rolling his eyes.

The bathroom was plain, white walls, with white tiles, and very dirty grout. The shower had very bad mildew and soap scum in it. Harry made a face. Draco certainly wasn't much for keeping house. There was a damp towel hanging awry on the towel rack, and another wadded on the floor. The sink had a ring in it; the mirror had a huge crack in it. Harry sealed his lips and didn't say anything.

When he'd finished with his shower, he put on his black robe, as he had nothing else to wear, and strode out, slicking back his wet black hair with an absent hand.

Draco was busy pouring the coffee into the mugs. He looked up and opened the cupboard again, pulling out a small flask of something and pouring some into his mug. He looked up at Harry and gave something of a grimace.

"'Gives it more flavor," he explained mindlessly. "'Snot so bitter lestways."

Harry nodded, and grabbed the cup with no liquor in it. "You drink too much," he commented. "You're ruining your liver."

"I'm not going to live forever either way," Draco remarked frankly. "No use trying to spend life breaking habits."

Harry shrugged. It was one way of looking at things, he supposed. Taking a sip of the black coffee, he pulled a face at the bitterness of it.

"So," he said, staring into the black depths of his mug, "you still haven't told me why you're in the muggle world."

Draco sighed. "It was more of a rebellion thing than anything," he said quietly. "I was tired of being Father's shadow. I didn't run away to be noble or anything like that. In fact, I'm indifferent to Voldemort in either way. If he doesn't take over, I'm still a very influential figure. If he does, I'm influential. I was rich. Life was perfect.

He never listened to me, though. I hated that. He never paid any attention to me, which was worse. When he did, it was normally cross attention."

He had his arms crossed, with the coffee cup latched under his finger. Harry was silent, hands wrapped around the mug. It was very hot, but Harry didn't seem to mind.

"He knocked me down a couple of times when he was really angry with me. It was quite degrading really; being eighteen and having your father slap you down. Well, on the fourth of August - DeathDay as you call it - I left. I never came back. Does that answer your question?"

Harry's jaw moved a little. It did answer his question, although with a vengeance. He couldn't think of anything to say.

"Oh," was what he finally managed to make out. Draco's lips curled up in a cruel sort of smile.

"The assassin thing happened when I got caught up with a gang in eastern London. Then I got word that the wizarding world was in shambles. I was only eighteen; I was terrified. What was I supposed to do?"

"Oh," Harry said again, pulling a mouthful of bitter coffee to clear his head. The caffeine felt good through his system.

"So," Draco said, setting his empty mug down with a clunk in the sink, "what do you really want? I'm sure you didn't follow me all the way here for storytime."

Harry smiled blearily, and finished off the rest of the coffee. "Two reasons. One, my current housing was destroyed with the gas explosion."

"And the other?" Draco prompted.

"Well, I just wanted to see if you were willing to come back. Actually, you are coming back."

Draco involuntarily stiffened at that remark. "And who's going to make me? You?"

Harry smiled. If it was one thing he had gotten good at during his years abroad in the muggle world, it was messing with people's minds.

"No. Your own mind is going to make you. I'm not going to."

There was long pause after that remark. Long pauses were normally good in situations like this. If he knew Draco Malfoy at all, it was that he was very curious. He always had been. He probably still was.

"When do we leave?" Draco finally whispered, eyes closed.

Harry grinned. He knew he would win. "First thing tomorrow morning."

A/N: Well, we're humming along.... Hope you like... can't think of much else to say... err.... Well then. By the way, I was VERY pleased by the amount of lovely reviews I got last time, and I hope that this time will be the same. *makes sure no one is looking, and then slips a twenty dollar bill in your pocket as bribe for review* ^_^;;

~Moxie ^_^

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter books, or series, or whatever ya wanna call it, it mine. No sue! Gooooood lawyers...