Disclaimer: I don't own HP

Harry was surprised to find that his body quickly adjusted to the extreme work out sessions planned out by Black. Now, the most difficult part of his day was staying awake during his teacher's lectures. Harry had a nasty suspicion that Professor Binns had procreated, when he was alive, with the Black family and created Regulus Black. Since Regulus Black's size made him look like a miserly goblin anyways. Of course Harry kept these thoughts to himself.

The other hard part of his day, though not as close as enduring lectures, was dueling practice. While Regulus Black had a gift to be mundane and boring in lectures, this gift did not extend to dueling. Ever since Regulus Black demonstrated his dueling skills, Harry began to respect Regulus Black, especially at that age, for his talent. Black, being the miserable old git that he was, made sure that Harry's dueling skills were impeccable and up to par with himself.

Everyday Black would shout:

"Don't be so obvious Potter, even a first year can see what spells you're going to use with that wand movement!"

Harry, due to his quick reflexes, had already advanced to nonverbal spells. Nonverbal spells were hard to master to begin with, especially when Harry had Snape as Defense Against Dark Arts teacher in sixth year, but Regulus Black insisted that Harry combine more than two spells.

So, everyday, Harry would try his hardest to combine three, maybe four, nonverbal spells and direct it at the Voldemort dummy Regulus Black had transfigured. Harry's weakness would always be his wand movements. Once Harry had mastered how to use nonverbal spells, it then became of matter of being discreet so that his opponents would not detect what spells Harry was going to use.

Harry would be most content when Regulus Black himself dueled with Harry. Even though Regulus Black had been a Dark Wizard, he had great skills that Harry envied. One grateful thing Regulus Black did, because Harry was not grateful for anything else Regulus Black would do for him, was that he took his promise to heart and never coerced Harry into Dark magic.

But Regulus Black's skills and generosity to keep his promise were the only good factors in living with the antiquated Black. Everything else, in Harry's opinion, sucked. Harry had to continuously wake up at five in the morning; Black stopped pouring freezing water on Harry after the first month. Harry had to endure around 15 hours of a grumbling old man who complained daily that he "had never met a more insolent boy" in all his 140 years or that "Hubert Slughorn should be hexed until all the blubber on his body fell off" (here, Harry would wholehearted agree and nod his head enthusiastically). Hubert Slughorn, who seemed to unable to realize that the glare sent to his ways were really out of hatred and vexation, would drop by often to "chat," which actually stood for "Regulus, I need more funds to keep dangerous muggle boys out of my house." Of course, Harry's favorite part about his whole stay was that his two hours of "free" time was actually running errands for Regulus Black, such as buying grocery.

These two hours were the only time Harry had with the outside muggle world. The muggle world, like Harry's first impression of it after the day of his coma, was quite bleak and oppressive. The muggles whispered, as if talking too loudly had great consequences. Children were rarely seen outside and laughter occur as much as the sun shone (which was never). Another weird thing about the muggle world was that it was completely devoid of vehicles. The only modes of transportation Harry had seen were bicycles and walking.

After dinner, Harry would walk the similar path to the same grocery store everyday and chat or eavesdrop on muggle conversations. The news he heard was hardly good, but muggles were still entertaining in their own way.

Everyday, Harry would talk to a middle-aged dark haired muggle man named Jim, who was the manager of the grocery store. Then Harry would gossip with a brunet in her late twenties who flirted shamelessly with Harry along with her group of friends, who all worked at the grocery as well.

"My cousin has a friend who has a friend that swam across the English Channel to France to run away from all of this," Candace, the brunet, would say.

"Well, one of my distant relatives was shot when he tried to do that. Then the police came for all of the family members. My mum was scared out of her wits that they'll come for us," Beatrice, one of Candace's friend, would say with fear in her eyes.

Of course Harry knew anything coming out of those girls' mouth were all gibberish, but it reflected the fear that muggles felt under the reign of Voldemort. Jim and Mark, a grocer boy, were the most informative with muggle news.

"Even though there are great evidence that support that Wilkes was behind all those deaths, the UN still refuse to do anything, they're discussing whether all those evidence are true," Mark would spat. Mark, apparently, was the brave one and was not afraid to talk smack about the government. Jim, who was more sagacious, would always say: "quiet down Mark, what if they'll hear you, don't you know what happened to Bill?"

Of course, everyone in the neighborhood knew about Bill. From what Harry gathered, Bill was in an organization that planned a revolt against the government. A month before Harry's wake to society, Bill and the rest of his family were taken by the police.

Harry was wise not to engage in any serious conversations with muggles about himself and gossiped as much as possible to deter any suspicions. Harry was quite proud of his ability to make up random stories in hush tones to match Candace and Beatrice. For example the other day, he made up the story that his "friend got pissed off at a police officer, so he cursed at the police and had to go to jail for two months."

From the conversations of Jim and Mark, Harry was able to determine that the British Isle was completely isolated, even trade was closed off. All international businesses were closed and the only foreigners that were allowed were diplomats. It seemed that the UN was indecisive on what to do with the situation; as of now, everything of shaky and people were waiting for something to happen. Harry also figured that he had been in a coma for three years, so he was already 20 years old. Something in Harry was penitent of the lost years.

His daily routine became a fix and Harry slowly adjusted to his new life. This life was perfectly fine (well, not perfectly as in a good life, but perfectly as nothing was amiss because Harry knew that his ultimate goal was to kill Voldemort) for about eight months until one day, Regulus Black decided to change Harry's dueling schedule.

"I think you have already mastered in dueling," Black said.

Harry beamed at this.

"I believe that we should move on to the Unforgivable."

"What?" Harry asked.

"You heard what I said. I know that you detest Dark magic, but I believe that in order to succeed in defeating Voldemort, you need to at least learn the Killing Curse." Black's countenance was apathetic.

"But, you promised that I didn't have to be a Dark Wizard!"

"Just because you know how to use the Killing Curse doesn't mean you're a Dark Wizard. After all, how do you think Albus Dumbledore defeated Grindelward?"

"Shut up! Dumbledore didn't have a choice!" Harry knew he was ranting and he had no idea how Albus Dumbledore defeated Grindelward, but he was not going to learn how to kill people.

"And neither do you, Potter. You've seen those muggles suffering; you have no choice."

"Is that why you always send me out, to see muggles suffer so then I'll be forced to learn the Killing Curse? You're sick! All of you slimy Slytherin!" Harry was seeing red, Regulus Black manipulated him into learning the Killing Curse.

"First of all, I'm not a Slytherin, and second, whatever method I employ, it's going to help you defeat Voldemort."

"No it's not! There's has to be another way!"

"It's either my way or no way at all."

"I'll learn more curses; I'll be better at dueling! There has to be another way!" Harry was desperate; he didn't want to learn the Killing Curse.

"There's nothing more I can teach you. If you don't want to learn the Killing Curse, then you should just go, there's nothing left for you."

"FINE! I WILL!"

Without thinking, Harry stormed out of Grimmauld Place and ran as fast as he could.

After a while, Harry began to regret his decision to storm out. Luckily, his pocket contained the muggle money that Slughorn had given to him the first day, but he knew that wasn't going to last.

I'll get a job, Harry thought, and train the rest of time. I'll find another way to kill Voldemort.

Even with that plan in mind, Harry had no idea where he was going to stay. He looked at his watch, which Regulus Black gave to him to make sure he "got home on time and didn't laze around", and it read 9:30. Curfew was at 10:00. He had only thirty minutes to find a place to stay or risk getting caught by the police.

Harry continued to wait aimlessly until he heard a small noise. Harry jogged to get closer to this noise. As he jogged further, Harry realized that this noise was music.

Harry jogged about ten minutes when he came to a street with no lights except for a neon pink sign that read Mirage. The music was coming from inside. Unable to suppress his curiosity, Harry walked into the place.

His senses were overloaded with booze, sex, and smoke. The place was crowded with rough looking men whose eyes were glued onto stay where an endowed woman was dancing topless to the loud music.

Harry quickly scanned to room and sat on a stool to the bar.

"What do you want?" the bartender asked.

"Do you have a room I can stay at?" Harry asked instinctively, not realizing that this was a strip club, not a hotel.

"Actually, I do. Do you have money?"

Harry and the bartender quickly bargained for the room price before the bartender handed Harry keys to his room.

Seeing as nobody else was leaving the place even though it was past curfew, Harry stayed.

"Business is kind of slow these days," bartender said.

Harry looked around and had no idea what the man was talking about considering the place was filled.

"It's looks good to me," Harry replied.

"No, there used to be huge lines that went around the whole building, but ever since the news that the U.N. might send forces down here, police control got more tight. People are afraid to mess with the law, so they stay at home."

"About that, isn't it after curfew? Why are people allowed to be here?"

The bartender just laughed.

"You don't get out much do you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Bribery. Place opens at eight, so no one gets in trouble; it closes at four, but police are blind near that time, so don't worry too much." The bartender patted Harry on the back.

Harry was a mess inside. This world, where fear and corrupt was ubiquitous, has to end. He was the one who has to stop it. Harry was suddenly scared at the whole notion. He always knew he had to kill Voldemort, knew that the world was on his shoulders. Yet, he never realized the great impact he would make if he actually managed to kill Voldemort. Did he make a mistake in refusing to learn the Killing Curse? One death for a safer world, but it was he who has to cause that death.

Harry knew he didn't want to end up like Voldemort. But, wouldn't learning that curse constitute him as a Dark Wizard? Would learning this curse make him take the same path as Voldemort?

Regulus Black's words rang in his ears. How did Dumbledore manage to kill Grindelward? The Killing Curse? Yet, Dumbledore was no Dark Wizard.

Harry realized that he should have considered this before storming out on Regulus Black, but he couldn't take it back, and he must try to find some way to kill Voldemort without the involvement of the Killing Curse.

Harry asked the bartender to the directions of his room and went to bed with his head still filled with apprehension and questions.

Harry, during the day, walked around the neighbor to find work, but every place was already filled or the owner was apprehensive to hire a unruly looking young man with no identification on him. Harry continued to come down to the pub everyday to get himself a drink. He contemplated on what he was going to do and tempted himself to ask the bartender for a job. The atmosphere remained the same throughout and the same type of men came and went into the place, until Tuesday night.

On Tuesday night, something was off about the place. The people were different. For one, there were a lot more women and the men were not as criminal-looking as before, though there was a roomful of those guys as well.

"What's going on tonight?" Harry asked.

"Queer Night," bartender answered.

"Queer?"

"You know, homosexuals."

"I know what they are, just why are you having a night for them?"

"To make money of course. You have no idea how repressed they are due to the new government. Hardly ever allow them to go out."

Harry looked around the room and noticed that there were a lot more people than the previous days. Everyone was a bit friendlier, and they seemed to know each other.

Oh well, I'll just stay around and see what happens, Harry thought. After all, he had nothing to do that night.

Like every other days, strippers would get on the stage and perform erotic dances (except this time there were males are well). Some people were watching the show, while others were having side conversations about this and that. Harry licked his chapped lips and used his right hand to support his head to watch the show. Harry enjoyed the showed for a time being until he had to stop himself from questioning his sexuality. He finished his drink and got up to leave to his room when he heard-

"Potter?"

Harry froze.

Please do not let this be who I think it is, Harry begged.

Harry tentatively turned around; he was dying to know if he was right, sometimes he was too curious for his own good.

The person that called him was unmistakable. He had blond hair, grey eyes, pointed features, and a look of astonishment. It was-

"Draco! I knew you would come today," a dark haired boy enthusiastically ran up to Malfoy and gave him a huge hug.

Harry snorted in a very Slughorn-like manner and turned around to get away from the Slytherin.

"Get off me! I need to talk to someone."

Harry imagined that the boy would look quite disappointed.

"Potter, stop!"

Harry knew his life would never be this easy. He knew he would get caught eventually, but damned if he was going to be caught by Malfoy so he could gloat about it in front of his Slytherin friends.

Harry ran out the bar and tried his best the navigate his destination (which he didn't know where).

"Stupefy!"

Harry felt a Stunner hit his back before he collapsed into darkness.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself on a canopy bed with jasmine fragrance. Harry quickly propped himself up and scanned the room.

The bed sheets were silk and there were floating candles near the ceiling. This meant that he was in a magical room, meaning he was caught. By Malfoy. That name left a sour taste in his mouth.

If he was going to be caught by Malfoy, he was not giving up without a fight. Before he would be taken by Voldemort, he would make sure to kick Malfoy's cowardly ass.

The door opened to reveal Harry's source of thoughts.

"Glad that you're awake Potter," Malfoy said with a smirk.

Harry was really tempted to wipe that smirk off of Malfoy's face with a nice punch.

"Where am I?" Harry asked.

"My house, Malfoy Manor. My parents are on vacation, so it's just the two of us."

Yeah and your Death Eater groupies who'll jump me if I retaliate, Harry wanted to say.

Harry was ready to take on Malfoy. He knew that before handling him to Voldemort, Malfoy would want to humiliate Harry in the worst way possible. He was not going to submit; he was ready to fight.

"Are you hungry?" Malfoy asked.

"No," Harry answered.

"Thirsty?"

"No."

Malfoy scowled.

"Fine, don't take advantage of my hospitality."

Harry looked at Malfoy defiantly. This was just like Malfoy, trying to make him loosen his guard, then attack him like a rabid dog.

"So what have you been doing all these years?" Malfoy asked while taking a seat at a nearby chair.

Harry took in Malfoy's appearance. Malfoy looked older now, more refined than he had been during Hogwart years. Malfoy's hair wasn't as screwed up as before, but Malfoy's taste in clothing remained the same. It was still impeccable to the degree of absurdity. Malfoy had on black robes with a white shirt underneath, all of its buttons tightened. Malfoy looked like one of those dolls that have their clothing glued onto them. He dress of clothing looked very uncomfortable.

"Well Potter? Are you going to answer me?"

"It's none of your concern, just take me to Voldemort already. I'd rather look at his ugly face than yours," Harry answered.

Malfoy looked like he wanted to say something witty at Harry but stopped himself.

"You're probably under the impression that I'm going to send you to the Dark Lord, but I'm not."

Harry quickly digested the information Malfoy just gave him. This meant that Harry was going to be kept here in Malfoy Manor, probably being humiliated everyday by Malfoy. Malfoy would must likely invite all of his friends to make fun of him. This thought despaired Harry. He'd rather be killed by Voldemort, at least that was more manly than being tortured by Malfoy, who happened to incidentally find him during "Queer Night." The horror! Malfoy would never let that one go!

"Oh for fuck's sake Potter, I'm on your side! I'm trying to help you. Don't be so defensive."

Harry looked at Malfoy questioningly. Malfoy help him? That's like Snape and Sirius becoming best friends. Harry remained silent, because anything he say at this point could be used against him.

"How do I make this more clear? I'm assuming you're going to try to kill the Dark Lord, correct?"

Harry nodded. It wasn't like this information was new. Of course Harry was trying to kill Voldemort.

"Well so am I. Why don't we help each other?" At this Malfoy smiled. In all of his six years in Hogwarts, if he learned anything, it was that a smiling Malfoy was never a good sign.

"What's in it for you? Why do you want to kill Voldemort?"

"You don't remember do you." It wasn't a question but a statement.

Since Harry didn't want to give away any information that could potentially harm him, he continued to simply glare at Malfoy.

"No matter, I'm your only option of getting close to the Dark Lord. So, be a good boy and listen carefully."

A/N: Thanks for all those who have reviewed. I don't really know about the pacing of this chapter because it all seems to be happening very fast. Please tell me what you think, I'm open to suggestions.