Pre-notes: includes standard disclaimers. God, it's been such a long time. Anyway, thank you to those who reviewed on the previous chaps: I'm very sorry for the very, very, very long delay on the updates. But for now, why don't you read this chapter? I hope it comes to your interest enough to forgive me n-n!

Noir and the Dark Side

Harry and Noir shook hands and exchanged smiles. Harry managed to notice that Noir apparently had very large dark-coloured eyes and was wearing a very interesting star-shaped ornament as a brooch at the collar of her robes. And again, was it just Harry or did Noir lay her eyes a bit too long on him than necessary? Perhaps he was just imagining things.

The wedding went perfect. Well, almost. If it weren't for Fred and George's special dungbomb attack on the groom during the festive lunch, it would have been perfect. The dung odour lasted long enough around the dining area that it made everyone lose their appetite. So instead of eating, the bunch went back to the grounds where the wedding took place beforehand, to sit and have some chit-chat.

'My dress robes still smell filthy,' said Fred, sniffing on his sleeves.

Noir laughed. 'Wasn't it your fault that it stinks?'

'We should change into something more comfortable. The wedding ceremony's over anyway,' George suggested. His twin nodded and the two strode off to the house, leaving Noir with no one to talk to.

Noir turned around in her chair and spotted Harry Potter, seated in the far side of the grounds, engaged in a deep conversation with one of the red haired boys and a girl with brown bushy hair. They had serious looks on their faces. Noir stared at the three for a moment before she glanced around quickly. With a casual touch to her ear as she tucked her fringes behind her ears, Noir began to listen to the conversation as clear as if she were in the same huddle herself.

'I've been on research during these days, lately,' she heard the bushy hair. 'I think I've nearly read every book available in the wizard world, and I still haven't got a single clue about the whereabouts.' It was obvious that this girl was furious.

The red hair laughed. 'As if they would have it printed in books, Hermione. "The Dark Lord's best hideout turns out to be in London." They wouldn't be so blatant.'

'Very funny, Ron.' Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Well, I wasn't searching for that. I was looking up for his history. It seems that the Horcruxes are located at spots which have hosted special occasions throughout Voldemort's life. I've tracked down all of the Gaunts' former residents, the Riddles' former residents, even Slytherin's resident, but I haven't…'

'Hang on,' said Harry, raising a hand. 'Slytherin's?'

'Of course,' replied Hermione. 'It's just like Gryffindor as he had Godric's Hollow.'

'Right,' Harry nodded. 'So, what were saying again?'

'Oh just forget it,' said Hermione, waving her hand carelessly in the air. 'I can't put two and two together anyway.'

The three sat in silent for a few moments. Harry let out a deep sigh. He had his head so occupied on going after the Dark Lord that he even forgot that he hadn't got a starting point on his investigation. 'Once I'm at Grimmauld Palace, I'll start digging up books too, I guess. We should speed up things – if we don't, the Death Eaters will take action again.'

Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.

'Well, if I were you three, I wouldn't search for Voldemort in books.'

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up at the speaker. Harry shielded his eyes with a hand and squinted against the bright afternoon sun to see that the girl in black attire (what was her name again? Noir?) was standing near them.

'I apologize. I couldn't help eavesdropping. Your conversation was particularly interesting,' Noir admitted.

'We don't really mind,' replied Harry, sending a cautious glance to both Ron and Hermione.

Hermione gave Harry an unnoticeable nod, showing that she understood him to be aware of the stranger. Then she turned to Noir and asked, 'Why shouldn't we search in books?'

Noir smiled and said, 'I know you think it's untrustworthy to listen to a stranger's advice, but to be honest, books – especially ones of the Dark Side – are mostly misleading. There's no way a book would be specifically about the Dark Lord, his history, and etcetera. Why, I reckon not even his followers have such knowledge about him.'

'Dumbledore knew about him,' blurted Harry.

'Your late headmaster knew about the Dark Lord, yes, I suppose,' agreed Noir, 'having the fact that he was part of the history himself, was he not?'

'Howd'ya know that?' asked Ron. He had a glint of suspicion in his eyes.

Noir smiled again. 'That's just what I was going to advise you to do. Instead of reading thick books that contain nothing but rubbish,' – Hermione gaped at Noir – 'I suggest you talk straight to the source of information. I believe that was how your Dumbledore managed to gather his information as well.'

True, thought Harry. Dumbledore had known Voldemort's history all the way long, and, not to mention, also had access to certain people. After gathering the information, Dumbledore would keep it in his thoughtful basin of his, Pensieve. Dumbledore was perfect as source of information, aside from the fact that he was no more living.

'Just tell me,' started Harry, looking back at Noir, 'how could it be possible to - ?'

Noir was nowhere to be seen.

'Where'd she go?' asked Harry, puzzled.

Where did she go indeed? After her conversation with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, Noir went right away to her employers to report that she would be going back to the shop to sort the newly arrived items. But, of course, she wasn't heading that way. Instead, from the wedding, she went straight back to the flat she rented in Diagon Alley and took out her potion kit. She set her cauldron on the fire and began to stir in a variety of bluish herbs. She spent nearly the rest of the afternoon in that room, concentrating on the mixture.

It was not till the sky was dark that she finally emerged from her cavity. Noir stretched out her worn arms. She let out a muffled yawn. She settled her self by a wide, opened window. She inhaled the fresh night air.

The wind blew against her night gown. If one were to watch her from a distance, it was as if she had wings made of silk: wide flocks from the sides of her gown were caught in the coil. Her face had a distinct glow against the moonlight, as it was full that night.

And he -- he had been there for almost an hour, absorbing every detail that she allowed him to without approaching anywhere near her: the way her hair lay in a delicate braid on her shoulder or how the glimmering light outside silhouetted her curves perfectly. He enjoyed the sight alright. He smacked his self mentally. He wasn't there to have an eye fiesta.

He stepped out from the shadows of the halls.

She turned to the sound of his footsteps. 'Draco,' she said, shortly, accustomed to his presence.

'Noir,' he replied, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Her straight face immediately lit up as she said jauntily, 'The wedding was wonderful, wasn't it? And the flowers! They were very bright and colorful, indeed!' She clapped her hands together joyfully and continued, 'Oh, and I can't believe I met him! I met Harry Potter! Goodness, today was certainly amazing!'

'Please, do not plan anything that is considered hazard to your own good,' said Draco in a cold, rapid tone, cutting Noir's merry attitude.

Noir raised her eyebrows for a second, before quickly mimicking an innocent look. 'I'm not planning anything dangerous.'

Draco gave Noir a stern glare, completely doubting her words. Then he sighed. 'I guess it cannot be helped. But, please, I do not wish to be blamed if anything happens to you. To do a wrong once is enough for me.'

Noir looked at Draco and gave him a sincere and assuring smile. 'I will never let you be blamed for anything that happens to me. For everything that you've done for me, I am thankful. To be such a burden to you, certainly I do not hope so.'

He lowered his head slightly in gratitude and stepped back. 'It is late, lady. You should get some sleep, now.'

'Indeed,' she replied. She bid him goodnight and gave him one last smile before heading towards her private quarters.

Draco folded his arms and slowly leaned his right shoulder upon the brick wall as he watched the young lady's figure fade away. He was sure she was up to something; if not, she would not have so obviously initiated a conversation with the Boy Who Lived. Draco knew Noir, and where her abilities lay, good enough to know whatever she was brewing up in her mind that is would cause more harm to her own self than other people.

Draco shifted his gaze to the clear summer night sky.

He was worried alright. It wasn't for the sake that she was the Daughter of the Dark Lord, but it was more for the sake of person she was herself. Draco never had siblings. He was raised alone, except for the presence of the now young lady. He always took her as a great friend and a cheerful younger sister.

Perhaps, even more than just that.

While Draco was drowned in his deep thoughts, Noir, on the other hand, had not gone to bed. She was keeping her mind all-focused on the bits of material in front of her. Various amounts of assorted ingredients were arranged in small heaps on the table. Her cauldron, filled with a thick concoction, was being heated.

Noir took a deep breath. She must get this potion done right and in time.

Author's note: T-T okay, I know that was short for such a long time of absence, but at least I had time to get this right. I have been suffering liver dysfunctions, a series of severe sore throats, and college overwork (laughs) Now that I'm quite fit, I hope I can be updating more often. For that, read and review, please, everyone n-n!