Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters, places et al. are owned by J.K. Rowling

A/N: Another one. Hope you enjoy. And to this slash-disliking guy: I can't say it often enough. Don't like it, don't read it :) About those complaining about the formatting... I do my best, but this software here is a bit limited in what it can do, so I just have to make do :)

Chapter 17

Draco felt the bed move beside him and looked over. Harry was finally waking up. Draco had been right, after all. The single room had plenty of advantages. After it had been properly cleaned, that is.

At first sight, it had been a dump; not cleaned in decades it seemed. Several house elves had been busy cleaning it that first time. The room itself lay at the top of one of the smaller southern towers and once had been a guest room for visitors, though the last visitor this room had seen would be safely dead by now. Even the portrait guarding its entrance was surprised to be used again. After some reassuring chit-chat, and the proper password, the ghostly woman floating in the portrait had given in and swung open for Harry and him. Following the rough form of the tower itself, there was a round common room with a fireplace and a dusted couch on the right hand side. To the left hand side, a small table with four chairs stood. The windows were hazy and even the midday sun had trouble burning through the dust and dirt on them.

Cobwebs were everywhere and finger deep dust was on almost every surface. Straight ahead, a small staircase led to the small bathroom and the bedroom. It was dominated by a large, dusted four-poster bed and the whole bedroom was ringed by windows, just as grimy as those below.

"Home sweet home," Draco had said with a wry smile. And truth to tell, after it had been properly and thoroughly cleaned and arranged to Harry's likings, it was rather nice. Not something Draco would have put up with at home, but for a school, it was acceptable. Harry had chided him for his snootiness, but naturally a Malfoy was above such things, as Draco had told him with dead seriousness before breaking out into a laughing fit.

And now, this early Saturday, he was lying side by side with Harry in the bed. It was strictly speaking not allowed, but so far, no one had complained. The warm, beautiful body cuddled next to him started to move again, and the morning light cast its first rays just over the blanket and in Harry's face. He turned his face away and a hoarse voice croaked "Blasted sun."

Draco suddenly saw something move around the bed and his head stiffened. A dark mist rose up from the floor, surrounding the bed. At first just a thin vapour of darkness but it quickly thickened until it had cut out almost any direct sun.

"Better," a pleased Harry mumbled beside him.

"Harry?" Draco prodded him.

"What?" the mumbled answer came.

"What the heck did you just do?" Draco asked in a curious tone.

"I did nothing," Harry rolled over and looked through sleepy eyes at him. "What you're talking about?"

"The light? Those shadows?" Draco sat up and pointed around the bed.

"What?" Harry looked at where Draco pointed and looked stunned.

"That shouldn't have happened," Harry said weakly. He slightly shook his head and the dark wall surrounding them thinned out until it had completely vanished.

Draco slightly inclined his head. "You should start talking, Potter," he crowded Harry. "You haven't explained a lot after the…forest incident, either. And this-" he waved his hand around him "-bears a stunning resemblance of your feat."

Harry looked at him for long seconds then just sighed. "I guess so," he nodded. "I just don't know what to make of it, you know? But I have to show you something first. Come," he said, his voice slowly sounding more like an awoken and he grabbed for his rimless glasses.

As Harry slowly climbed out of the bed, Draco was transfixed for a moment as he saw him stand there clothed just with his silken grey pyjama pants, his solid muscles flexed and moved under his skin.

"Draco?" Harry tore him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, sure," he shook his head and got out of bed himself, "coming."

Down in the small common room, Harry went over to his trunk and dug deep in it until he got up and had an old book in his hand. He came over to Draco and handed it to him.

"I bought it in that shop in Knockturn Alley," Harry said as he sat himself down in the couch. Draco couldn't hide his slight surprise that Harry had gone into the dark Alley. Though it shouldn't have surprised him, with all he knew now about him. "It started with this."

Draco looked more closely at the book. It was really old. The paper had a brittle crispiness to it and was severely brown and almost unreadable on many pages. He scanned through several pages, reading for some minutes. When he finally looked over at Harry again, Draco looked puzzled.

"That's no real teaching book," Draco pointed at it, "it's a work on the mythology of even older times than the book was written at. Like the author took all the reports on this kind of magic and analysed it. And if I read it correctly, he was of the opinion that it's all humbug."

"I know," Harry answered weakly. "It's a really absorbing book, so I read it, and then I got curious and tried something." He took the book, skimmed through it, until he found what he seemed to be looking for. He turned it back to Draco and pointed at a text passage. "Try it," he simply said.

The passage was an instruction for some incantation of sorts. No wand though. He raised his left eyebrow, but read on. Everyone could do wandless magic, of course. But it was just too erratic, too emotional to be used in any way. That's what you have wands for; but this incantation was meant to work without a wand. He concentrated and tried to do as was written there, but nothing happened. He turned back to Harry and nodded. "Nothing. Just doesn't work."
Harry simply reached out with his hand, turned his palm upward and seemed to be slightly concentrating. Suddenly a dark mist, much like the one around the bed before, formed above it. It thickened, morphed, and seemed to solidify into a shining black orb.

"That's what the incantation is for. A mere cantrip. I read it and tried it. At first, I just felt something strange but nothing happened. I had to concentrate really, really hard for it to appear. But now, now it is as easy as breathing…"

"That is really something new," Draco whistled. "Or really old, if you will. Certainly not something they teach you at Hogwarts." His mind wheeled until he remembered something. "Once," he went on, "some years ago, I had to read our family's history and there was this ancient witch – Liandra Mafey – who had been reported to have wielded something remotely like you did. 'Cursed with the Night and Shadows' as it was put. I just assumed it was some overly frightful chronicler, especially since she was called 'The Devourer', but now…?"

"When was this?" Harry asked interested.

"She died some twelve hundred years ago."

"I just can do it," Harry shrugged. "As long as it is useful to me, I don't care where it came from."

"It may be useful," Draco looked at him, "but it also can be something very dangerous. Remember your row with Ron?"

Harry's jaw clenched. "Yes, what about it?"

"When you had him pinned to the wall, there was this tiny aura of darkness around your head, like very small black flames…"

"I didn't-"

But before he could finish, a clicking sound came from one of the windows. Harry sprung up from the couch and went over to the source of the sound. Draco got up as well, and then saw his owl sitting outside the window. Harry opened it and the owl flew to Draco. It carried a small sheet of parchment and he took it off of the owl. Unrolling it, he sucked in a deep breath and looked at Harry.

"What is it?" Harry asked startled.

"My father," Draco replied with shaky voice. "He wants to see us. Tonight."

The office was a mess. Her desk overturned, shelves ripped from the walls, pieces of paper and records littering the floor wherever she stepped.

"Who'd be so stupid to break in a police office?" Inspector Elizabeth Banish incredulously asked. She had to admit, in all her career, this was so far a first.

Phil, standing next to her, just shrugged. "I dunno. Whoever it was, was either insanely stupid, or really knew what he was doing. It's not like we're following an open-office policy around here."

Normally, she preferred to work from home at Saturday if she had to. She still clung to some figments of private life. Now she stood in the debris of her office. It would take days to get it back to its highly sophisticated chaos.

"Anything that would hint at who or why?" She asked into the room.

"There are signs of heightened activity around here," one of the investigators said from the other side of the room.

She and Phil walked over and took a look. When she scanned through the documents on the floor and those still in the drawers, she sucked in breath.

"What is it, Inspector?" the brown-haired investigator asked.

"Phil," she ignored the investigator and directly spoke to her assistant, "those are the Nelfayn documents. Look, whoever it was had pulled every single one from here."

"You do know where this train of thought of yours brings us?" Phil was wincing.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, suprised that she didn't think of it herself. "Either the killer, or someone very interested in this case." Her eyes got cold. "Death Eaters. They must have gotten wind of it by now." She pointed at the chaos in her office. "I would guess this was thought as some kind of diversion."
"The killer," Phil said with his speculative tone, "would have to be an incredibly mentally challenged one to come looking what we might have on him. And from the works we saw, he isn't stupid. That leaves only one group really interested in the demise of Nalfayn, if we're right about the murder. Death Eaters, yes."

Elizabeth's head jerked up as if hit by a lightning and rushed over to a small painting lying on the floor. She pulled out her wand and weaved a quick pattern above it. The canvas quickly morphed into a small door. She opened it and a sigh of relief escaped her.

"At least they haven't found everything," she quickly scanned through the parchment rolls in her hand and put them back into the painting. Phil walked over to her and she leaned towards his ears.

"These are the documents about the…unusual magic we found," she whispered. "I thought they might be better of hidden, in case someone higher up came questioning."

"Well," Phil suddenly looked very dour. "You have forgotten one thing." He whispered back.

"What?" She looked at him puzzled.

"One thing that wasn't hidden there. The whole Potter matter."
"Oh," she just said and looked like hit by a truck. She stood there for precious seconds in silence before she spoke again. "Given his past, he should be used to being hunted by Death Eaters by now. Nothing we can do. And if he truly is the killer," she cast a fierce glance at Phil, "if he is the killer, he deserves what he's got coming."

Harry had been antsy ever since the note from Lucius had arrived. It had been a piece of parchment with a highly complicated calligraphy; nothing written or intelligible. But Draco had assured him he could read it, and was from his father, indeed.

Harry had stayed in his room for the rest of the day, contemplating the upcoming meeting. He was still slightly unsure about Lucius. But he was also of the firm belief it was the only way to get what he wanted.

The hours whizzed past like mere minutes. Harry waited patiently until McGonagall let them out for Hogsmeade. Draco and he stood out among the other students, both physically and by their dress. Harry wore a hand-tailored black suit of muggle style, and a long greatcoat over it. Draco had opted for a burgundy brocade jacket over a black silk shirt and black trousers under his own greatcoat. Making a rough calculation, he guessed he and Draco must have worn more expensive clothes than all the others combined. They were dressed to kill and Harry had an amused sneer on his face as he saw Ron stand over at the other side of the students with clenched fists and an irritated Hermione talking avidly to him.

When the time came, he walked out of Hogwarts with Draco next to him as casually as he could. Lucius seemed to have taken into account the Hogsmeade weekends, and Harry had to smile at it. At least it would give them an easy excuse to get out of the school. Now they only had to get out of Hogsmeade undetected. Draco and Harry sauntered through Hogsmeade like a lovestruck couple; not that it would have been a difficult thing to do. They looked into every shop, made pauses in cafés, and so made sure no one was following them. Someone really had to be quite crafty to have been undetected the whole time. As the night slowly came and the lights dimmed, Harry and Draco carefully left the main streets and slowly made for the forest. He even used his special abilities so that the darkness covered their departure.

Alone in the dark, they waited the last few minutes until it was time.

"Now what?" Harry asked.

"Give me your hand," Draco answered.

"Huh?" he answered bemused.

"Surprise," Draco chuckled. "It's a secret family lair, unplotable and father is the secret keeper of its location. But I know. And I can apparate us there."

Harry chocked and had a slightly shocked face. "Apparate? I thought Lucius had something prepared, a port key or the like."

"Well," Draco seemed to grow a few inch with pride. "It's not you alone who has some secrets." He laughed. "I had to learn it pretty early. Father said it was only natural for a Malfoy to be better than the rest and knowledgeable about such things; got me a private trainer. Should we go then?"

"Eh, yes," Harry answered, quickly getting his composure back. Who would have thought, he hid a little chuckle. They should really get rid of all those secrets they still may hold.

He grabbed Draco's hand and with a loud crack they were gone.