Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This includes its characters, plot, and situations.

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Draco rubbed his ears- and eyes for good measure-, not sure he had heard Harry properly. "I-I'm sorry, could you please repeat that?"

"I would like to see Sirius."

So I did hear properly the first time…Draco met Harry's eyes, the emerald orbs glowing with conviction created from two weeks of thinking and requested isolation. There would be no deterring him, and even though Draco always knew that it was always only a matter of time before this request made itself known, he didn't like it, but he also knew there was nothing he could do about it. Harry was Harry: an infuriatingly determined, idiotically brave, and yet somehow Slytherin-worthily sly Gryffindork for life.

Besides, Lucius had foreseen this. "Potters were never foolishly trusting," he had said the very night before, "Harry is no different. There is no reason why he should believe us and he'll ask for proof. Draco, you cannot deny him that right unless you want him to vanish." He was right; Harry only had their word, a Malfoy's word, to go on: and everyone knows that you can't trust a Malfoy.

Harry knew the mantra well too. For the first 5 years of school it had been said in the halls, classrooms, dorms, and especially the Great Hall by everyone. Everyone in Gryffindor at least, Harry corrected himself, and we know how well our Houses got along. It wasn't that the Malfoy's did anything to lose trust, in fact, they did everything Harry was sure they never would. If one squinted a bit, one could mistake the Malfoy's for a richer, blonder Weasley family. Behind the Manor's high walls, there was joking and playing and an abundance of love that no sane Wizard would ever believe.

Even though Harry had spent the better part of two weeks hidden in his new rooms, everything the family felt for each other seemed to extend to him too. He knew this, could feel it, yet…could he really trust them? People had played larger, more elaborate acts at a chance to harm him. Was it really so far a stretch to think that maybe the Malfoys were doing the same? The only friend Harry had seen yet was Tonks, and that was only for a short while. It would be easy to create stories inside of such an isolated setting.

The longer Harry stared into Draco's silver eyes the more he knew that he needed to know. If a child tells a lie about not skipping class, ask the teachers. If someone tells you a tale about your time with a God-parent, ask the God-parent.

"I see," Draco dropped his gaze from Harry's, "I'm sure it won't be a problem." He picked up a nearby potions book he'd been studying before, trying to refind his lost page. It would help distract him from whatever his brain might imagine as an outcome of visiting Black.

It didn't matter wither way though, when Harry voice cut through the chant of potion pages.

"Would…would it be possible to do it today?" Harry was looking down, chewing randomly at his thumb. "I-I don't want to have time to convince myself not to do this. I need to do this." Catching Draco's eye, he himself wasn't sure if he'd stated his mind or asked a question. Maybe both.

"I think," Draco started, taking time to find the words, "I think that it could help you, however there's no way to know till it happens. I'll talk to my father." He watched as Harry nodded after a moment's hesitation and proceeded back to his own rooms to hide for just a little longer.

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Harry was glad that he'd gone ahead and asked Malfoy about visiting Sirius because within an hour of being in his rooms he wanted anything but to confront the man. What if they were right? What if Sirius was no longer the Sirius he had known? What if…

It didn't matter now.

Permission had been granted and a Portkey was set to activate at Sunday's noon- just a few short hours from now. There was no time for second thoughts. He needed to know who to trust.

His time waiting was spent like all his others in the Malfoy Manor: locked in his rooms with no visitors allowed. It was quiet and lonely, but it was the only way Harry could manage to think straight. If the Malfoys were around-they'd spent the first week trying to get him out and about before he politely asked to be left alone- his thought were always in overdrive, looking for signs of Dark Magic or traps. Whenever people tried to visit him, Harry would find himself mentally panicking.

No, he needed to stay alone to think. Though…whether the thoughts were worth anything he didn't yet know. They were jumbled and cut up, linking together into his own personal Gordian's Knot. He could go on picking at it forever.

"You don't have time for this," Harry quietly reminded himself. A quick Tempus showed 11:37 am. The Portkey would activate soon and he needed to be there when it did.

Picking himself up from the large bed he'd been brooding on, he straightened his old casual robes. They were plain black and a bit worn at the edged, but they were his, they were safe. Only once his wand was discreetly stowed in his sleeve did he leave for the Entrance Hall, where the Portkey waited.

Through his weeks of hiding, Harry had missed the splendor of the Manor. The floors of various rare and beautifully grained woods or marble of gleaming opulence cushioned your footfalls as well as the plushest of carpets. Walls and ceilings covered in only the most lavish art and fabrics, spelled to artful perfection. Full length windows opened to picturesque terraces and balconies, bathed in ivy and blooming flora from all seasons.

Even the way that the halls wrapped around to connect rooms and courtyards was pleasing, somehow soothing. There was something else in the Manor too; in the air. It spoke to the far recesses of one's mind, swaying the conscious to relax, to slow down, to just be.

Harry hadn't noticed any of it, and, by the way it air swept into his mind with the force of an undaunted hurricane, it noticed his lack of attention. He could feel his body loosen as he walked further. Even when his wand buzzing let him know that it was uncomfortably close to noon, he felt no need to quicken his steps. Somehow, he knew, the halls themselves would not let him be late.

And they didn't. The halls twisted and stretched to his destination, letting him walk calmly into the Main Hall just as noon struck, the house coming alive with the soft, resounding chimes of variously placed clocks.

Just as he entered, so did Lucius and Draco, both dressed in elegantly simple black robes, both traditional and somber. Their matching white-blond hair and molten mercury eyes brought out dazzlingly by the deep black. If he weren't already so accustom to older, more worn clothing, Harry would have felt more like a street beggar than a guest.

"Are you ready, Mr. Potter?" Lucius spoke quietly as the chimes faded from the air. Harry nodded once and was immediately presented with the Portkey; a small rubber band held in Lucius' outstretched hand. He took the hand and closed his eyes against the pulling that drew him out and away from the kind beauty of the Manor.

Seconds later, Harry found himself standing- albeit with a small stumble- in a well lit room cluttered with seemingly comfortable pieces of furniture that failed to hide the darkness of where they were.

This was Azkaban.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," Harry's attention was drawn to a squatish man dressed in overly embroidered navy robes sitting behind a desk barely accessible due to an overflow of papers and folders it carried, "Welcome to Azkaban. I'll trust you had a good commute, sirs, and get to business." The man's murky blue eyes fixed on Harry. "Your meeting with Mr. Sirius Black shall commence under guarded supervision in a magic-free zone in 15 minutes."

At this, Lucius stepped forward, "I do believe it is inappropriate for Mr. Potter, the victim, from his Magics while meeting with such a person as Mr. Black."

"You may think that, but this is my prison. No Magic. I do not want a lawsuit form either party. My secretary will show you to the meeting room. Mr. Fleg!" he bellowed.

A small, hurried looking man stumbled into the office. "Yes, Mr. Nortry, what can I do for you?"

"Show these sirs to meeting room 7. Make sure guards are posted and no Magics are allowed."

"Yes, sir."

Striding out of the office, Mr. Fleg motioned for everyone to follow him. "I do apologize for Nortry, he can be rather…overbearing of his position here," he said as they walked, each corroded darker and more morbid feeling than the last. Harry felt as if his feet were protesting against him, getting heavier with each step, but he tried to just be happy that no Dementors were around.

"Ah, here we are, room 7. Now let me just do a quick sweep…"

Everyone was lightly frisked in a showy but utterly ineffective way to find dangerous objects that may or may not be on their persons. Harry's wand wasn't even close to being found; not that it mattered. They were each given rings that temporarily bound their magical abilities.

It took no more than a minute and Harry was led, alone, into room 7, bare except for a single, long table and two bolted down chairs. Guards stood just outside of the room where they could easily see the exchange to make up for not being allowed to hear it, which Harry was thankful for.

And then, with only a small, clear chime, the 15 minutes were up. Harry felt disjoined from the opening door. There were two outcomes from this, he knew, nothing he did now would change them. Steadying himself, he lifted his head to watch as the man he'd saved from the high tower joined him in the room, and he knew instantly.

It was his walk. Every movement of his body was greased with a quiet insanity, a waiting deadliness. His feet slid across the stone floor. His body glided after him. And his eyes; they blazed darkly.

Harry knew then.

This was not his God-father.

This was not the man he rescued from the tower nor the one that smiled gleefully from his family's photo album.

This was who the world always thought of when they heard the name: Sirius Black.

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"Hello, Harry, I do hope you're doing well. Weasley's treating you well- you are staying with them aren't you?" It was so nonchalant, the way he spoke of everyone. As if calling from vacation to check up on things. Something about his voice infuriated Harry, he didn't even know why. I guess my mind has already called judgment. If so….

"You don't get to call me Harry anymore." He whispered into the room, his voice coming out as an angry hiss though he did his best to keep his face from showing anything.

"Oh?" Sirius leaned back in his chair, "Than what shall I call you if not by your name?"

"Nothing; you do not get to call me anything. It would be best if you didn't talk at all unless it's to answer a question." I had a plan didn't I…, Harry thought, what was it? But he couldn't seem to remember, there was too much buzzing in his head. He couldn't think of anything but the buzzing and one question that had been echoing in his head for weeks. "Why did you do it?"

"Me?" Sirius answered, looking faithfully innocent, "Do what?"

Harry's eyes shot up to meet his, the room was dead silent, growing heavier by the moment. Sirius looked around as the hairline-cracks mapped their way through the walls, his grey eyes looking more and more amused with each one he spotted.

"Well, my my, you did always have power in you. Not much control either." A fissure tore through the table. "Fine. You couldn't figure it out by now, I'll tell you. You are a Potter. I am a Black. You are and always have been a threat to my line. And like a good little hero you couldn't just die in the war. No, of course not. So, it's easy from there. I decided to use you, to force you into the Black family's servitude where would not only not be a danger, but you would serve." He threw his head back and laughed as if he'd been waiting forever to do so. Minutes passed before he calmed down enough to continue talking, a sinister grin plastered on his face. "Really, it was quite brilliant. I was able to stay on the winning side no matter what and get what I wanted in the end. Didn't quite work out, but who ever thought that the Malfoys of all people would come to your rescue with the Ministry? Though, in all honesty, it was worth it if only for the irony of it all, really it was."

That was enough. Harry had his answer. It was time to leave this.

"Oh, and Harry," the deranged singsong voice followed Harry to the door, "do get a check on that temper of yours."

The door slammed as the table ripped itself apart, falling to the cold stone floor with a crack. The guards and Malfoys alike kept some space between themselves and the quietly seething Harry as he quickly made to leave. There was nothing more for him in this awful place.

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A/N: The next chapters are going to be longer, as everything is now planned out. I'd say about 6 or 7 more chapters, though, really, we all know how guesstimates works out.

For now, I hope you enjoyed and thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed! It really did help me write!