Chapter 1 – The Talk of Merger

Harold Evans dropped into his bed unceremoniously after the tiring day. Physically tired and mentally exhausted. It was good, he thought. It distracted him well enough.

At twenty-five, Harold Evans was a very successful businessman indeed. His company, Sirius, was one of the worldwide major supplier of electronic games. That is to say that he is rich and one of the society's most eligible bachelor. Yet he was a lonely man. Business associates of his should be enough company, but one did not call people who tried to swallow your business and doing their best to render you penniless a friend. Therefore, it all came back to square one, and even though he wasn't really happy about it, he was content. Better to have no friends than have hypocrites, or even worse, people whom he could possibly harm.

Just as he was on the border of dreamland, poundings on the door were heard and said-person could only groan as he was really too sleepy to eat.

"YOU COME OUT HERE THIS MINUTE AND EAT YOUR DINNER, YOU SKINNY LUMP OF BONES! I KNOW YOU'RE THERE AND STOP SNEAKING PAST ME!" The rants of the woman did not stop, so did the loud bangs on the door.

"Alright, alright! Gerrof..." He mumbled. He gave serious thought to summoning his wand and do a silencing charm on the door but after putting it away for more than seven years, he did not want to make wand-waving a habit.

Lazily, he got up. Mrs Letter was his housekeeper and he owed it to her that he did not die of starvation as most of the time, he was too tired to eat, not to mention cook. The dear old woman was like Mrs Weasley in many ways, who adopted him in every way except in name. She was a next-door neighbour when he lived in a flat after graduation. Due to an unfortunate fire, she was homeless as all her belongings were kept in the flat and her pension money was meager. It wasn't too bad actually, as it gave him a chance to get a new and bigger house since he could more than afford it. He couldn't bear seeing Mrs Letter, who had been more than just a next-door neighbour to him getting sent away to some run down Old Folks' Home and decided to let her stay with him. She had refused, for fear of imposing. After staying temporarily, she noticed how much the boy needed mothering and decided to stay for the price of keeping him well fed and ensuring that he was well taken care off.

With a sleepy yawn, Harold exited the room only to be given a very nasty glare. He greeted her half-heartedly and shuffled down to the kitchen and sat down at the table, where a large serving of homemade lasagne was sitting on his plate. Only when the aroma of the still warm food hit his nose did he realize that he was somewhat hungry. Wolfishly, he dug in and not long after, he had finished the whole plate.

He looked up only to see Mrs Letter entering the kitchen with an approving look. Before he had a chance to even say Quidditch, she had whisked off his plate and returned with a glass of milk.

"Thanks a lot Mrs Letter, but I'm really..." He didn't even have the chance to say the next word because the woman had shoved the glass under his nose.

"No buts! Drink!"

He sighed resignedly. Although, when it came down to this, he could not complain much. After so many years, he had at least found a nice home, with someone who genuinely cared about him to mind it. Making a face, he gulped down the glass and put it down again, to burp loudly, which seemed to satisfy the old lady sitting opposite him.

It appeared, however, she wasn't ready to let him go yet.

"How was your day?" She asked.

"It was fine." He mumbled non-commitally.

"HAROLD EVANS! Don't you dare lie to me!"

"All right, it was horrible. Happy now?"

She chuckled at his disgruntled look.

"He wouldn't give up would he? All the same, it would do you good to marry and settle down you know. Then I would have someone else to fuss about. Maybe I could even get you to make a few babies to call me Granny."

"Mrs Letter, that woman is terrible. She's a complete airhead and will marry me only for my money. As soon as I sign the papers, John Howards would usurp my company and throw me out of my office. After a while, he would ask his daughter to file for a divorce on some trumped up charges and half of my fortune along with my company would go to him. Then he would be laughing at me." He sighed at the thought.

"Still, that woman is quite good looking..." She teased him relentlessly, and enjoyed baiting him immensely, which had been a routine for the years she had mothered him.

"Alright, alright. I give up. Who would have thought that such a jovial looking old man could be that horrible?" he grumbled.

Truthfully, associating with other people wasn't an easy task for him at first as he had been so used to the concept that bad people usually looked horribly scary and disgusting, and while the good did not necessarily be good looking, a good-looking person is highly unlikely to be the "bad-guy". Some of the people he knew in the battleground he is fighting on currently were far from ugly or ill mannered. Most of them were normal people, who turned dangerous only when things don't go according to their wishes. Still, after his life in a constant war and with his hackles up, he was prepared for anything when he embarked on another new journey.

"Honestly my dear boy, if you'd take the advice of a senile old lady, I would suggest that you go and meet this unknown opponent of yours. The way that man John Howard's talk about him, it is obvious that he is as much of a threat to his company as he is to yours. From the point I see it, he wanted the marriage to secure his own footing and make sure this unknown opponent won't affect his business."

"It might work...but then Lucifer Black isn't someone you'd like to mess with. His reputation precedes him and if John Howards get wind that I'm not interested in his hints at this marriage he's trying to set up, he might sever the temporary alliance and offer it Black instead." He replied dubiously.

"Well, what are you waiting for then? Go and make, what you call it, alliance, with this Black-person. Then it would get John Howards off your back and you needn't worry about your company closing down. Although I wouldn't mind it. Then you can stay home and keep me company. God knows you are rich enough. Maybe you should get a countryside house. The air would do you much good, I daresay."

"And you would spoil me rotten with your cooking and tell me your numerous stories as a young girl. I must say it is really tempting. But don't you think it would be such a pity to throw away the entire set of cards I've been blessed with to play?"

"Ah," she sniffed, "All you business people are the same. Your playground all stink of money and deception. Go to bed, Harry. You still have to attend what sickening business talk tomorrow. Even though it would be amusing for you to fall asleep, I'm sure it wouldn't do much for your image, even if you look cute while you sleep." She added as an afterthought.

He frowned a little. She called him Harry again. She always said Harold sounded too formal and thought that Harry makes a fine nickname. Although she hadn't called him by anything but "you, boy!" or "lumpy bag-of-bones" seeing how skinny he was, lately.

"Alright, good night!" He gave her a peck on the cheek and made his way up the stairs to his bedroom, which adjoined his workroom. Truthfully, he had little thought for sleep as new possibilities began to open up for him. Mrs Letter seems to be just a harmless old lady who happened to be worse than a mother hen at minding her chicks, although in reality, she was much wiser and more cunning than she appeared.

He wasn't tired anymore as he passed by his bed and went straight for the telephone lying on his work-desk. Dialing the all-too-familiar number of his secretary, he waited impatiently for him to pick up his phone. When finally the voice of a disgruntled secretary floated out of the receiver at being called at an ungodly hour, he picked up his notepad and jotted down the things he wanted to tell his secretary so that he would not forget it himself.

"Frank, go compose a letter, I don't care how long it is or how flowery. I just want it to suggest that John Howards arrange a three-way meeting with Lucifer Black and me. Its high time I see for myself that towering reputation of his. If he accepts it, make reservations at some prestigious hotel restaurant; preferably not French since I can't stand French food and you know that, for four people, under my name. Go and find a date which suits all of us for the merry get-together."

A pause. Then,

"Mr Evans, do you think this is wise? Wouldn't it be preferable if you get a stronger or more permanent alliance with Skyne before..."

"Yes, yes. That would mean me marrying the Howards girl. I have no intention of having a wife squander all my money away while I work hard to earn it. That'd be all."

"It'll be as you say, Mr Evans. Good night."

After hanging up, Harry thought about it a bit. The hectic life kept his mind occupied and stopped him from thinking about the past too much. Here in the muggle-world, he was nobody. He was just Harold Evans, a successful businessman and nothing else. Not saviour of the Wizarding world, not someone everyone expected a lot from. It was a good hiding place. He did not alter his appearance much except to get rid of his glasses, which were replaced by contacts. Otherwise, he was still rather skinny, rather good-looking young man. He wasn't a vain person, as can be seen from what others may perceive as lack of fashion sense. Overall, he was content, if not happy with his life.

Black. It reminded him of... No, he would not think about it. It's just a coincidence that Lucifer Black had the same surname as his Godfather. He's dead, Harry reminded himself. That cold feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought that it was him who led his Godfather to his death never disappeared, even after so long. He tried to shrug it off, and bury himself with the mundane task of cleaning his workroom. It was long due to be cleaned anyway, as he piled and filed those papers he wanted and needed, and discarded those that were useless.

After thoroughly satisfied that his work-desk was at least clear of the usual pile of mess, he switched off the light and jumped into bed, with the last comforting thought that at least he was rid of the Wizarding world for good. Of course he could be wrong.

"Hey Luce, how was your day, darling?" The voice of some woman sounded as soon as he picked up his cell-phone.

He didn't even know how all these people gotten his number. It was so bad sometimes that he had to change his number more than once a month.

He didn't even bother to answer as he switched off his cell-phone. Honestly, these women were a pain in the ass. They ranged from daughters of wealthy people, to females working in his or other companies. Most of them have nothing between their ears but fluff, and those with some brains only used it to get the wealthiest husband they can find.

It wasn't that he wasn't fond of women. Some dinner with a nice conversational topic is okay, but there has never been one able to keep his interest for long. Most of them only asked him out for dinner for the sake of interviewing him and gauging whether he would make a nice prey for a husband.

He went to his wine cabinet and found that his supply of wine was running low. He had to get some more. And being rich as he was, he would only get the best. That meant making a trip to France. He could never trust anyone else to get his wine for him. Only his taste was good enough and he wanted only the best. Besides, his ancestors came from France so he felt an affinity for that country.

He sat back down on his couch, deciding not to drink for the night. The telly held nothing of his interest except the stock market prices that were displayed in Bloomberg. As the familiar music heralding the 9 o'clock news sounded, he settled himself deeper in his couch. Even though the news changed everyday, he found no point in keeping up with most of it. They were pure crap and as long as nothing earthshaking happened that would affect the Wall Street too badly, he couldn't be bothered. The other channels held even less of his interest. Perhaps that was because he never found a good movie to watch, but as it was, the soaps of New York City were more for housewives and teenagers still believing that love and friendship existed. Maybe it really did, he would never know.

His father had killed his mother, proving that there was no love lost between them. His father didn't listened to his wife and son, deciding instead to be at the beck-and-call of one madman who called himself the Lord. His mother was given strict orders to be stern and cold to him, as it was thought to be good training. He didn't even find out whether his mother had more love for him than his father since she was mostly out, to what business, he didn't know although he supposed it involved cheating on his dad and a lot of shagging.

Lately, his newest obstacle was John Howards his daughter. He wanted an alliance. He knew John Howards was a scheming old man, yet he could swing this into his advantage too, seeing that the well being of his company currently rests at his hands.

And then there was that Harold Evans. If he played his cards right, he might make a successful alliance and get a sizable piece of John Howards' company, and bloody the nose of Harold Evans. He couldn't shake the feeling that Harold Evans was someone he should meet. While making an alliance with John Howards' could be beneficial, he had to see who he was up against if he failed. This was turning into an interesting game.

The phone rang and he picked it up. No one knew the number of his private phone and if his secretary dared to leak it, he would fire her straightaway.

As he put down the phone, he was rather pleased about the whole thing. This was getting to be a nicely matched game, going against two of the reputedly strong opponents. Life is a game and if there was anyone best to play it, it was he. And he was damn ruthless, not to mention toeing out of the rules sometimes. He couldn't wait.

Harry was looking over the letters he had received that morning. He was running a bit late since he had a lie-in after watching a movie with Mrs Letter the previous night. Even at sixty over, that old lady still had the spirit of a youth. Yesterday was the premier showing of the movie "Haunted" and she had insisted that he bring her to watch. Although he had to admit it was good for him too. It helped take his mind of his so-called "playground" where the kid who failed to play well was chucked out.

Ron and Hermione had written him a letter each and since they came at the same time, it made him get suspicious of what exactly had happened that they had to write together. Good old' Ron was working at the ministry, together with Mr Weasley. He was currently dating Tonks, and he expected to get a wedding invitation sooner of later. Hermione had decided to travel the world with the enormous sum of money she had acquired by helping to fight the war. However, it looked as if both of them came from the same place.

He was in the midst of sorting through all the other business letters, leaving Ron's and Hermione's for the last. His guests hadn't arrived for lunch yet and he reminisced about the good old days when they were carefree first years. Beyond that, his life wasn't what one would call normal. Even though he still kept in contact with his friends and went for Christmas dinners with the Weasleys, he never wanted to go back to the Wizarding world. He was comfortable with his life and did not want to get out of the shell that he had so protectively build around himself.

He did not get past the first few greeting words of Ron's letter when he heard more than see the arrival of his guests. Putting them aside, he rose and shook the hands of John Howards, as well as his daughter, Larissa. As they moved, he saw the fourth of the party and his mouth nearly dropped in shock.

"Potter." Draco nodded towards his schooldays archenemy, looking him up and down. So this is what happened to the saviour of the Wizarding world. It made him want to laugh. What ill luck he had to be saddled with Potter again!

"Malfoy." Harry replied, equally vehement in his greeting.

He would never forget that family. Draco was a carbon copy of Lucius Malfoy when Harry last saw him. The same platinum-blonde hair and the same aristocratic features, always highlighted in a sneer. Thinking about Lucius Malfoy made him feel a surge of hatred towards his offspring. Lucius Malfoy had killed many innocents, including Aunt Petunia. Even though she wasn't a particularly doting aunt, she was still his blood relative.

He knew he wasn't being fair, since Draco Malfoy wasn't really involved in the war like his father. He did not join the Dark side and had been known to be the second spy for the Order. Then again, seven years worth of dislike on both side did not melt due to some gesture and since they had been treating each other with malice most of the time behind Dumbledore's back, it had become somewhat of a religion.

"How dare you take the surname of my Godfather?" Harry was indignant about it. How dare a Malfoy take the surname of Sirius?

"I should have known. A small modification of your name, added to the surname of your mudblood mother. How pathetic can you be Potter? And need I remind you my mother was also a Black." Draco sneered back.

"Don't you dare call my mother a mudblood, you mother-fucker."

Both waited for the other to say the next insulting thing, mentally preparing themselves for a duel, just like eight years ago, when the best thing to solve a dispute and show the other he was better was a wand-to-wand fight. They forgot that they were in a muggle restaurant. This was back to the days when they would cross path, get into a fight, and receive a detention.

Suddenly, some electric jolt seemed to fly through the air and hit the pair of Howards who had been looking at the two men curiously. They both turned to see both father and daughter's eyes glaze. They both turned again to see the who had performed the memory charm. Kingsley Shakeout was walking towards them with an annoyed expression.

"Boys, this has gone far enough! After so many years and you still fight like a pair of babies! Now be civil to each other or I shall remove both of you from this dining place."

"Kingsley, why are you here?" and "This is none of your business, Shaklebolt" was said simultaneously.

"Obviously, the ministry wanted you both tracked. They would not want to lose you when he needed to find you. Although I must say New York agreed with me. Now behave."

He walked back to his seat and resumed eating his dinner with a young lady who appeared to be his date for that lunch.

Both Draco and Harry were wearing identical scowls at the thought of imbecilic ministry for tagging along when they weren't needed.

"This isn't finished Potter."

"You bet, Malfoy."

All four of them sat down and the two archenemies resumed their roles as Harold Evans and Lucifer Black, while making conversation at John Howards and his daughter.

But both of them knew, this isn't finished. They would continue it at a later and more convenient time. You could even say that they are childish and petty, yet it seemed right to them as they re-embraced their true heritage and actually looked forward to further interaction, a reminder that there was another world which they had belonged to.

Author's notes:

Draco and Harry and both 25. They're currently residing in New York and happily building their empire and flowing in cash.

Sirius is Harry's company name while Skyne is John Howards.

I abandoned this story 2 years ago after writing it, never really sparing a thought for it. Not because of writer's block, more of lack of time and being generally stressed out.

Today, I was reading one of the fanfics that I've been following and came back to this page. After re-reading it, I decided that it's worth continuing after all.

I quote my physics teacher :"When there's time, there's hope. When there's hope, you can do almost anything."

Fate is funny sometimes. I wrote this in 2004, and then transferred school in 2005. One of my best friend's name now is Sky, and we call him Sky-nee. Maybe I should start naming Draco's company after my friends too.