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

A/N: Found some time to write again. Hope it's enjoyable :)

Chapter 18

Harry blinked and steadied himself after the apparition. Looking around, he stood in a dark cavernous cave lit only by flickering candles in recessed parts of the wall. A chilling revelation was that it also seemed to be devoid any doors or openings.

He was just about to turn to Draco and ask where the heck they were, when he heard a harsh, cold chuckle from an unlit part of the cave.

"Mr. Potter," the familiar voice came from the hiding spot. "I never really believed you would actually show up here." A tall man stepped out of the darkness, but he didn't look like the Malfoy he knew. Instead of the long, blonde hair there was a patchy mop of greasy brown hair, his immaculate clothes had been replaced by filthy, tacky rags. His face was gaunt, worn out. Only the eyes gave him away - cold, calculating, scheming. "You have changed, indeed, Mr. Potter," he dryly observed.

"So have you," Harry nodded.

Lucius stepped a bit closer and looked over Harry's shoulder. "Draco," he said snidely. "That it would come down to this…" he pointed at him and Potter. "A disgrace for the family."

"Father, I…" Draco began speaking, but Harry cut him short.

"Watch your words, Lucius," Harry snapped icily.

"Awww," Lucius mocked. "Great Saint Potter protecting his love." He spat on the ground. "I should kill you were you stand!" his voice now without even the slightest traces of mockery or sarcasm.

"You could try to," Harry answered. "But you would find out that I have changed in more than one way," he smiled very thinly, "and besides, I doubt even my dead body would get Voldemort to embrace you again. He seems to be a bit touchy in the treachery department." Harry chuckled harshly and his face hardened. "Despite what I know about you, even Lucius Malfoy wouldn't go back to the one who nearly had his only child murdered."

Lucius just looked at him for long seconds. And the seconds stretched into minutes without a word spoken.

Finally, Lucius spoke again, with an unknown, well of warmth in his voice. Almost as he truly had feelings in him, somewhere. "No, I wouldn't. You are right. I thought Draco would have been safe. Should have been safe." His eyes connected with Draco's. "I seem to have…miscalculated this a bit." His head swivelled back to Harry. "But all that does not explain why you of all people wanted to see me. Speak!"

"I want – need – a list of all the Death-Eaters you know, and you must know many." Harry simply stated.

"You are insane!" Lucius cried out. "Why should I, do something even remotely like that!"

Harry stayed calm, like the eye of a hurricane. "Because you need me." His eyes bore into Lucius'. "You can't, or don't want to, go back to our dear Dark Lord. That'll be suicide. And you must be pretty convinced that he will not win; or not convinced enough he'll make it. But after the Ministry raid, you're still a traitor, an enemy of the society, an outcast. You will never be able to take your old place in it. But what if I, the Boy Who Lived, 'Saint Potter', were to tell everyone that you helped defeat Voldemort? That you changed and repent? That would make a big impact."

Lucius turned around, and stormed to the other side of the cave. "And why should they believe you?"

"Because I am the 'good guy' in this drama," Harry said in a mocking voice of a little boy. "People believe me. It's that simple."

"What if I won't change? Cling to my old views?"

"That is your problem, not mine. I couldn't care less, just as long as you give me the information I need and keep your ideas to yourself. Pretend, for Merlin's sake. Just be useful to me."

Lucius started pacing up and down the cave, muttering all the time while his eyes were flinging back and fro in their holes. Suddenly he stopped and looked at Harry again.

"I don't know what, or how, you have become what you are now. But you have my…respect." He turned towards Draco. "Son," he said," I must correct myself." He swallowed. "Maybe you're not as shameful to the family as I have thought."

Turning back to Harry, he looked at him like a scientist would look at a very interesting sample. "You are sure you're no Malfoy? With such a cold, ruthless vein? The potential…"

He took out a parchment, and started scribbling on it. It took several minutes and then he handed it to Potter. "Take it and do what you must with it."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Mr Malfoy," he slightly bowed. "Maybe we will have to re-evaluate our relationship after this war."

"Now go," Lucius said. "Until we meet again…" The candles flickered out and Harry only felt the sudden twist of apparition and they were back in the forest.

The next days, Draco saw slight changes in Harry. He dived even deeper into work, more focused than ever. He was there with Harry, stayed with him, learned with him. The closer the weekend came, the more concentrated Harry got.

"You don't have to do it, you know?" Draco whispered to Harry Saturday afternoon. His head lay on Harry's slightly breast, hearing his heart calmly beat.

"We've been over it before," Harry said with a soft, hushing voice. "I must do it. This all has to end, one way or another. And better now, with me in control, than some time outside my control."

Draco's body snuggled closer to Harry. "I know," he sighed. "I know. Still, I could have wished for a more…Malfoyian way, couldn't I?"

"You mean weaselling out of harm's way and pin it on someone else?" Harry chuckled.

Draco managed to seem indignant over it. "It worked very well in the past," he sniffed, "as you had many chances to observe first-hand. Just because you can't see the beauty of it…" Draco held the indignant expression for at least two m ore seconds, before he burst out into laughter. "Let's just stay here for a while longer, ok?" Draco said after he regained his breath.

"Sure," Harry purred and hugged Draco. "A few minutes can't hurt…"

It was late afternoon time when they finally crawled out of bed.

Harry dressed in tight, but comfortable black trousers, a tight-fitting turtle-neck and an equally black great coat.

"I still wished I could come with you," Draco said. "It's just too dangerous."

"No," Harry shook his head. "I don't want to bring you into even more danger right now. And you're needed here."

"Still doesn't mean I have to like it," he pouted.

"You'll survive," Harry bowed down and kissed him slightly on the cheek. "When someone asks you know what you say?" Harry asked him.

"Yes," he nodded. "You're not feeling well and stayed in bed. Must be the weather, really. The cold –"

Harry snickered. "I guess they'll buy into it. You have a very convincing way with words."

"Just don't get caught," Draco finally said.

"I won't," Harry smiled.

Draco took a few steps back and watched Harry. Slowly at first, blackness crept from Harry's body, engulfed him, faster, quicker, thicker. The pillar of blackness moved and began to swirl, away from Draco, towards the wall. It swirled faster and suddenly disappeared.

"At least it has style," Draco whispered. Now he just had to pretend to be calm and not tearing himself apart with worry.

When Harry stepped out of the shadows, he was deep within an old forest, looking at an old country house with a nice clean garden in front of it. The sun was already low in the sky and the evening drew inevitably closer. He pulled in the shadows a bit closer and studied the house. No need to rush things. He saw people leave and enter the house, and ghostly shadows move inside the house through the curtains. All in all, it looked like any other country house. Except that this one tingled with magic. Harry could feel several wards and alarm spells around it; someone really cared for his privacy. He loved a challenge.

As the night slowly came, he saw lights go on in several rooms. He continued observing for several minutes until he was reasonably sure the target was alone in his home.

It was time to strike.

He slowly moved out from his hiding spot in the woods. His mind concentrated, reached out for the house and soon he felt a cold creep up his spine and his vision blurred. When it cleared again, he stood deep within the shadows in a hidden corner of the house, his wand ready.

He called the shadows around him closer in and moved. The lights around him dimmed, sounds were muffled. It felt as if he was the shadows…

Suddenly a door creaked open a few meters ahead to his left and light poured out. Pain stabbed through his eyes and he had to blink. The shadows reacted, rushing forward as if on their own, closing out the light that had hurt him so much.

"What the…," a balding man in his late forties cried out. His arm shot to his waist, fiddling with a wand. Despite his age, he still had reactions like a cobra. Before Harry knew it, the wand was in the man's hand. He just heard "Stupefy!" and felt a sudden pang as a red bolt of magic energy crashed through the shadows in him. But like before, it didn't stop him.

Harry reacted quickly, and took advantage of the man's disbelief at his spell's failure. "Avada Kedavra!" his voice almost hissed. As he saw the man slump lifeless to the ground, Harry sighed.

That should not have happened, he thought. Next time this should run smoother.

He moved closer to the body and got on his knees. He ripped of the man's sleeves to show everyone who would see him that way the Dark Mark.

Before he left, a wicked grin spread on his face. He took his wand, and quickly drew something in the air. When he was finished, he stepped back and smiled. The tell-tale skull with snake of the Death Eater flowed above the body, made of strings of violet so dark they were almost black in their centre. And in the centre of that skull, a large axe had split it.

He called to his shadows and stepped out of here.

"Draco?" Harry called into his room. "Are you there? I don't want to play hide and seek…"

They had agreed to meet here when he was back. And Draco was no one to ignore such arrangements.

Maybe he got something to eat?

Harry waited.

But as he still wasn't there twenty minutes later, he started to get worried. He got up and nervously started pacing before the fireplace like a tiger in his cage.

As he did so, his eyes fell on a little piece of parchment on the small tray near the portrait hole. He walked over and picked it up. As he read it, his eyes grew large and his heart started thumping.

It read,

"Draco, meet me at the Shrieking Shack tonight at 8. Surprise for you."

The note slipped out of his fingers and Harry ripped open the portrait and sprinted down the stair case.

It was Harry's own handwriting…