Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Meddling with Darkness	By : zoy_grey Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 32786 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own nor make profit off of JK Rowling's world of Harry Potter, the characters or the timeline. Though I do own the plot that I came up with in this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/N: Finally finished all the uni exams (or most of them ^^'), so should be able to write a chapter or two. Here is chapter 2 and I hope you'll like it (some major differences comparing to the original series ;) ). So there may be a few secrets in the past of the characters that you will not understand completely just yet, but I promise that after around 4-5 more chapters around 80% of those secrets will be revealed ;)

Oh and just to make things clear:

" normal speach "

" parseltongue "

' thoughts '

Chapter 2
The Riddle House stood silently on the hill in Little Hangleton. The building looked almost abandoned with an eerie atmosphere around it. Most of the people in the village thought it really was abandoned and only the old caretaker visited it every now and then. For the last few decades it was true; the house was empty and unused; only some rich anonymous businessman paid for keeping the building in good state. Now, however, unknown to the villagers, someone occupied the house.
In the shadows of the trees growing not far from the Riddle House a silent person clad in a black cloak lurked, closely observing the estate. When the main entrance to the house opened and a short, plump man sneaked outside, the mysterious person in the shadows moved slightly in its place. Eyes followed the plump man until he left the property grounds and headed towards the village.
The cloaked person stepped out of the shadows and moved quickly towards the Riddle House, making sure not to be noticed by anyone. Once inside the building a quite hissing sound could be heard.
“Always on guard, Nagini?” whispered a male voice and the cloaked man stretched out his arm to pet the reptile on the head. The snake seemed familiar with this unexpected guest and allowed the man to do what he wanted.
The muffled voiced upstairs got the man out of his thoughts and he walked quickly to the library, located on the upper floor. He opened the door to the room and saw Barty Crouch Jr. kneeling by an armchair and discussing something with a wizard sitting there.
“You’re here already,” a hissing, inhumanly voice asked. “I presume Wormtail has left.”
“Yes, he has,” the cloaked man answered right away and moved closer to the armchair, circling the piece of furniture until he stood in front of one of the most powerful wizards known to the magical world – the Dark Lord Voldemort. Even in his rudimentary body he was intimidating.
“Barty,” said Voldemort catching the younger wizard’s attention once more. “Wait outside and inform me when Wormtail is coming back.”
Crouch Jr. was curious who this Death Eater was, whose name no one knew even in the last war; but Barty knew better than to question his master’s orders. He walked outside and closed the door behind him.
“How is our guest doing?” asked Voldemort when they were left alone in the room with the other man.
“Still regaining his strength, but he should be waking up in a couple of days,” the man answered and kneeled in front of the armchair.
“Are you sure he’s not going to do anything stupid?” kept asking Voldemort, narrowing his eyes dangerously.
“Not if the boy’s life depends on it.”
“Do I need to remind you that the situation we are currently in was caused by him doing something stupid, exactly because the boy’s life depended on it?” came out an angry hiss.
“No,” gathering all his courage the man looked Voldemort straight in the eyes and continued. “Every single day I’m being haunted by each painful moment of the last fourteen years. I’ve waited the last thirteen years to make things right and I’ll make sure that this time he knows the whole truth and doesn’t complicate everything.”
There was a long moment of silence and finally the Dark Lord said, “You are my most faithful.”
“I’ve always been,” answered the man with a gentle smile, still kneeling in front of the wizard. “And I always will be.”
Suddenly the door to the room creaked open and Nagini slithered in, heading towards her master. “The rat is coming back,” hissed the snake.
“You should go. Wormtail can’t see you here. It could ruin our plans,” said Voldemort to the man.
“I’ll come again in a few days,” the man stood up and straightened his robes.
“No. Now you have to make sure our guest is ready before the school year starts. He has to protect the boy.”
The cloaked man listened to Voldemort with a surprised expression. He knew the Dark Lord had plans for the Boy-Who-Lived and needed him unharmed, but it always made him wonder if maybe somewhere deep inside it was actually something more than just a use for…’Dumbledore’s Golden Boy’.
“I will make sure he’s ready,” with that said the man apparated and the Dark Lord was left alone in the room.

Draco walked quickly in the forest, heading to the clearing where he was supposed to meet with his parents. Even though he could hear screams and see people running away in all directions, he felt rather safe himself.
He looked around to see the campsite still filled with witches and wizards fighting. They were all taken by surprise when the Death Eaters showed up out of nowhere. Draco snorted to himself and kept walking. He knew there was nothing to be afraid of; at least for him. He was a son of a Death Eater and no one would dare attack him. Muggle-borns and blood traitors like Granger and Weasley, whom he saw panicked back in the campsite, were a completely different matter.
Just when he was about to walk past another, smaller forest clearing, Draco heard someone’s footsteps. He hid behind a tree and saw an unfamiliar wizard standing not far from him and looking around for any unwanted witnesses. The blond had a feeling it wouldn’t be wise to waltz right past the man who looked more than a little bit insane; this man could be one of the very few who’d actually dare to attack a Malfoy heir.
Deciding it was better to stay hidden until the other wizard left, Draco just hoped he wouldn’t be late for the meeting with his parents; he was aware it could put them in a really difficult situation if any of them got caught by the Ministry.
He waited patiently for the man to go away when a sudden, quite moan could be heard a few meters away from his hiding place. The teen quickly searched for the person that made the sound and just there, in the bushes by the next tree he spotted a black mop of hair.
‘Potter? What is Potter doing here?’ ran through his mind while he watched the other boy trying to get up from the ground and touching his obviously injured head.
Nervously Draco glanced in the direction where the older wizard stood and saw that the man also noticed the sounds Potter was making. For a moment there, the blond stood there almost frozen in his place, debating with himself whether he should or shouldn’t help his classmate. It definitely was risky; he was safe in his spot, but Potter wasn’t. For some reason Draco seemed to have a soft spot for the black haired boy since the moment they’ve met; he realised that but didn’t want to admit it out loud, not after how Potter dumped his friendship.
One more glance and he confirmed that the man headed their way, but Harry didn’t notice it yet.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” muttered quietly Draco, got to his knees and quickly moved to where the other boy was sitting.
Harry wasn’t aware of his surroundings and just sat on the grass trying to massage his head where he painfully hit the ground some time ago. The next moment he felt a hand cover his lips and someone behind him was dragging him somewhere. He couldn’t see the person behind him, but he tried with all the strength he had left to escape until he felt his back painfully hitting a tree and someone’s arms embracing him in a sort of protective manner, still covering his lips.
“If you want to get out of this, don’t even budge or make a sound, Potter,” hearing that voice whispering threats in his ear, Harry realised he was with Malfoy. What he didn’t understand was what exactly was going on.
Few moments later, he saw someone’s shadow close to where they were hiding and then a male voice shouting something.
Harry still didn’t know what was going on, but he decided to listen to Draco and kept silent. It didn’t last long; the man didn’t seem to have time or desire to look for them so he left.
Draco was the first to stand up and see the Dark Lord’s mark floating in the sky.
“What’s that? And who was that wizard?” asked Harry getting up for the ground and standing next to the blond.
“That, Potter, is the Dark Mark,” explained Malfoy annoyed by the other teen’s lack of knowledge. “And the one who cast it was a Death Eater, HIS follower.”
“Why did you save me?” came a simple question.
Draco looked at the black haired boy and wondered how he should answer that. He couldn’t tell Potter that he always felt this utterly annoying feeling to look after him, even if he pretended to bully him. He didn’t want to think of Potter’s reaction if he heard that it was Draco who told professor Snape that Harry and his friends chased the Grimm to the Whomping Willow.
“If he spotted you, he’d go after me later,” the blond finally answered; he straightened his clothes and started walking again towards the meeting point with his parents.
“Still, that doesn’t explain why you helped me,” kept bugging Harry, following the other teen. “You could have left me there and escape while he was focused on me. That way you’d finally get rid of the filthy half-blood boy who annoys you immensely.”
“You know nothing, Potter,” was the only answer Malfoy gave him while still heading towards the forest clearing.
“True, I never knew why you betrayed me and pretended to be my friend,” said indignant Harry.
Hearing that, Draco froze. After that everything went fast, too fast for Harry’s liking. The blond turned around glaring at him dangerously; in mere seconds Draco walked to him and stood face to face with the slightly shorter boy.
“I betrayed you? I?!” the teen almost shouted. “I’m the one who got betrayed, Potter! It was you who rejected my friendship, if you have forgotten that.”
“It was never friendship you wanted, Malfoy! You just pretended to be my friend, when in fact you despise me being a half-blood and being raised by Muggles!” now it was Harry’s turn to glare. “Your friendship was never sincere.”
“Oh really? Did you develop some special magical ability that allows you to tell what I think and feel? I really thought you were my friend; the first person who liked me and not my social status.”
Harry felt confused by the blond’s confession. He really sounded sincere; just like when they met and sent letters to each other. “Then why did you turn into a nasty git from the very first day in school?”
“You humiliated me. And out of all the people you chose to do that in front of Weasley and Granger. It pissed me off to see how friendly you got with them, how they always encouraged your reckless and dangerous ideas.” Seeing Harry’s confusion, Draco stepped away, giving him some space. “At some point during our first year in Hogwarts the boy I befriended that summer vanished. The Harry I knew wanted just a normal life, to have his family and to learn magic so that people looked up to him because of his skills; not because someone declared him to be the Golden Boy. I can’t see that Harry anymore. Now, it’s only Potter.”
There was a long moment of silence after Malfoy’s words. The black haired teen felt as if he was struck by lightning, a sudden enlightenment – Draco never thought less of him. In fact, the blond was fond of him as a friend…or so it seemed.
He watched the blond walk away further into the forest and felt he needed to stop him; he wanted to know more about the other teen’s motives. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to humiliate you…I didn’t know you saw it that way.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Draco said with a sneer, but for a moment there, a small sad smile appeared on his face.

Sirius opened his eyes and felt awful. His sight was too blurry to recognize where he was; his head was spinning and he felt as if he’d still need some sleep. Yes, that much he was aware of – he slept for what seemed like quite some time. The only problem was he couldn’t remember where he was and how did he get here.
He looked around, trying to focus at least on one thing in his surrounding that would help him recognize the place, but with no success. All he knew was that wherever he was it felt comfortable; he must have been sleeping in a bed, something he greatly appreciated after twelve years in Azkaban. However that led him to the realisation that something was wrong – he couldn’t have found a safe place with a warm, comfortable bed; he was a criminal on the run and no one would give him shelter.
“I see you’re awake at last,” Sirius heard a male voice somewhere to his left. He looked that way and saw someone was indeed standing by his side, but his eyes couldn’t make out any details, only that the man was dressed in black and had black hair.
‘I know that voice…I’ve heard it somewhere,’ was all Sirius could think of; but it wasn’t very helpful. His head hurt and he couldn’t focus; besides, he knew many people with black hair, so it could be anyone.
“Still not looking very well, Sirius,” said the man when he didn’t get any reaction. “Think you should get some more rest. But you’ll have to get in shape soon…the boy needs you.”
At that moment, at the mention of Harry, Sirius remembered what happened. He ran away from Azkaban to seek revenge on Wormtail; then he saw his godson and realised he had been fooled by more people than he expected; finally all the pieces fell in place, he knew what exactly happened thirteen years ago. Yes, now he remembered – he tried to talk with the only person who knew his secret; he tried to reason, tried to prove to him that his discovery was true, but Severus wouldn’t listen. Why would he listen anyway? Severus hated Sirius for every mistake he made.
“It was you,” Sirius mumbled the words with difficulty. “You helped me escape from the Dementor’s Kiss.”
“You’ve regained your memories,” said the man and pointed his wand at Sirius. “Good. You’ll need to remember everything from the past.”
For some reason Sirius didn’t feel threatened by the other wizard pointing his wand at him; the man didn’t have a reason to kill him, not since he saved him from the cell in Hogwarts where he was waiting for the Kiss. Now he was certain that this man hid him somewhere where the Ministry couldn’t find him.
“Now rest,” those were the last words he heard before the wizard cast a spell on him and sleep took him over.

It’s been a week since the Quidditch World Cup and the sudden Death Eaters’ riot. Since then everybody talked only about it; even the newspapers couldn’t stop themselves from printing at least on article about it every day. Harry, however, had different things on his mind regarding that day. Of course he was worried about the Dark Mark and whatnot, but in all honesty, there was not much he could do about it. That’s why his mind wandered to a different event of that night – his meeting with Draco.
The past week he’d been thinking about his relation with the blond teen. It was true that for the last three years Malfoy acted as if he hated his guts, but to be completely honest, Harry made his fair share of insults and accusation towards him as well. What seemed strange was the fact that when they met the summer three years ago, they were really good friends; Harry honestly felt they were, yet they turned into worst enemies. He replayed the conversation he had with Draco that night over and over again in his head, until finally yesterday he had an epiphany – Draco’s insults and bullying of Gryffindors was just his way of sulking. Of course normally when people sulk they take out their anger just on the person who hurt them, but since the blond had tendencies to act like a drama queen at times he naturally took his anger on all Harry’s new friends. It was all clear to him right now; Draco didn’t hate him or think less of him because of his blood status; and when he insulted Muggle-borns that day on the train, he never meant to offend Harry; it was all a huge misunderstanding which they never explained to one another.
That much was clear to him right now and in all honesty, he missed the very first friend he made in the wizarding world, but what should he do now? Harry wasn’t even sure if Draco wanted to give their friendship a second chance; nonetheless, the blond probably saved his life from that Death Eater and that had to mean something.
Gathering all his courage, Harry took a piece of parchment, a quill and sat on his bed in Ron’s room. He glanced one last time to make sure the redhead was asleep and no one would interrupt him.
Draco,
I honestly hope you won’t burn this letter the moment you realise who send it. Just like I hope you won’t hex Hedwig for delivering it to you.
I didn’t get the chance to thank you for helping me the other day, so…thank you.
But to be completely honest, I was thinking about our conversation. Now I finally know what your real intentions were and how you felt when I rejected your friendship in front of Hermione and Ron. That’s why I want you to know why I did that. I considered you my friend, my first ever friend and that day there was nothing that I wanted more than to officially become friends…but when you started insulting Hermione and people with Muggle relatives I felt you were in fact insulting me as well. I thought you were pretending, but now that I think about it, I’m not sure if my judgement was correct.
I won’t stop being friends with Ron and Hermione and I’ll understand you not wanting to try anymore, but I’d like us to start over.
Harry.
Finishing the letter he quickly scribbled the address and walked over to Hedwig, releasing her from the cage.
Suddenly, the door opened and Hermione greeted him cheerfully. Seeing how he was already out of bed, she walked over to Ron’s bed to wake him up.
“To whom are you writing?” Harry looked over his shoulder and saw a grumpy but awoken Ron and Hermione coming his way. Not wanting the girl to find out to whom the letter was addressed, he quickly opened the window and rushed the owl to fly away.
“To Sirius,” he lied, but his friends seemed to believe him.
“I hope he’s alright,” said Hermione. “Did you get any letter from him so far?”
“No, not yet. But the Daily Prophet hasn’t written anything about him being captured, so I suppose he’s fine,” answered Harry with a weak smile and followed his friends downstairs for breakfast.
Truth to be told, Harry was hoping to read at least a shirt line in the Prophet that Sirius was spotted somewhere; at least that way he’d know his godfather was alive. He feared something bad has happened and he allowed that.
Harry never told anyone what really happened the day Sirius ran away from Hogwarts and now he was worried about the man. Back then, in June, after he cast the Patronus charm, Hermione was supposed to take care of Buckbeak so that no one saw him and stay on guard in case anyone tried to get near Sirius’ cell; that way it was Harry’s task to free his godfather, but something unexpected happened at that moment – out of nowhere a cloaked person appeared; Harry managed to hide himself but not the hippogriff. That mysterious person freed his godfather and even though Sirius didn’t seem familiar with that person, they escaped together taking Buckbeak with them. At that time, Harry was so stunned by what happened that he didn’t know what to do; all in all, Sirius was free, as was Buckbeak, however the long silence was disturbing; he was starting to panic whenever he thought that maybe the person who saved Sirius attacked him later on.
He wished those were only unjustified anxieties and his godfather would write him back, any time soon. If not, Harry decided to inform professor Dumbledore about what really happened last June.

He thought he was having a déjà vu, when he opened his eyes and felt awful. This time however, he could see things better. He didn’t feel dizziness and he could make out every detail of the room he was in.
Sirius propped himself on his elbows and looked around him. With growing horror he realised where he was. For reasons unknown he woke up in his bedroom, in his parents’ house.
Thinking it was some kind of a nightmare he sat up and tried to pinch himself to wake up, but that didn’t work. He couldn’t understand, how was it even possible that he was here; only a Black could enter 12 Grimmauld Place and he knew for certain he would never do that out of his own free will, not after all the sad memories he had with this place.
Getting out of bed, he put on a silk robe from the chair and walked over to the window. He analysed the room and with a pained expression he noted that a very important piece of furniture was missing there.
‘Maybe mother in her rage destroyed it,’ he thought to himself and truthfully, he didn’t blame the woman; she was truly devastated after what he did those thirteen or so years ago.
His gaze landed on a framed photograph of his family; a family he thought he’d lost, but now he knew it wasn’t true; Sirius could still make everything right and he had all the intentions to do so.
The wizard was brought back from his thoughts by someone entering the room. He turned around and saw Kreacher glaring at him from across the room. Remembering the situation he found himself in, Sirius walked over to the house elf, put a hand on its shoulder to pull the elf closer and started asking in a hushed voice.
“I know some wizard is here, but I don’t have my wand. You need to help me get out of here and then I’ll get back with some help to get rid of the intruder.”
The elf shook the wizard’s hand off of his shoulder, obviously not happy about the gesture and answered, “He saved master Sirius.”
“True, but we know nothing about him. He could be with Voldemort…”
“He wanted to be informed when master Sirius wakes up,” Kreacher continued unfazed and made a step towards the door.
“Why are you doing this? We were already on better terms…” Sirius desperately tried to stop the house elf but it snapped its fingers and vanished. “Bloody elf,” he muttered angrily.
Getting up on his feet he cast one last glance at the moving photograph of his family and carefully walked out of his bedroom. No sound in the hall was a good thing in his situation and he thought that maybe Kreacher hasn’t informed the other wizard about Sirius being awake. As quietly as he could he walked down the staircase, nervously searching for any movement, but thankfully no one was there. When he finally got to the first floor he saw light in the drawing room. For some time Sirius just stood there by the door to the room deciding whether he should sprint out of the house or stay there and wait for the other wizard to fall asleep.
“How long are you planning to stand there, Sirius?” asked the man without moving from the room. “If I wanted to hurt you I could have done that a long time ago.”
That was indeed true. Besides, according to Kreacher, this wizard saved him and tended to him. Slowly, he stepped into the drawing room just to see a cloaked man sitting on the sofa, reading Daily Prophet; he wasn’t even looking at Sirius.
“Who are you and how did you get in here?” Sirius asked baldly; he might have sad memories with this house, but it was his house and he couldn’t stand it that this stranger was acting as if he was at home.
“Good manners as always, I see,” the man said amused. “First of all, you’re welcome and there is really no need to thank me for saving your life and helping you regain your strength,” the wizard continued sarcastically.
Only now did Sirius notice that he really felt better; he wasn’t tired or weak, he was able to think straight and even his body seemed in better shape, his skin regained its healthy colour; the only problem was hunger, he was starving.
“In order to thank you I need to know who you are first,” said Sirius and then his gaze landed on a pile of newspapers on the coffee table. “And how long was I unconscious?”
“Finally some reasonable questions,” the man took one of the newspapers and handed it to Sirius, who decided to get closer to the intruder, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face, but the hood was covering it well. “You were exhausted after everything that happened at Hogwarts and passed out after a few hours. I decided this was the safest place to hide you and since then gave you some sleeping draughts and other nutrition potions. I must say you took your time to get well and missed quite a few interesting events.”
Still observing every move of the other wizard, Sirius quickly ran through the first page of the newspaper he was given; it was about a Death Eaters’ riot at the Quidditch World Cup.
“I’ve heard it was quite a game to watch…Quidditch I mean,” added the man when Sirius glared at him. “But I’m sure Harry Potter will tell you all about it.”
That was all the information he needed, “He was there? When…when did this happen?! I have to see him…”
“You’re not going anywhere,” was the short answer.
“Listen you, whoever you are! I don’t know why you helped me and what you’re planning, but there is no way you will stop me! I have to be by his side!” Sirius shouted at the man, threw the newspaper to the ground and walked towards the door.
“Oh, I can stop you,” he heard the cold strained words and saw Kreacher stop terrified in the doorway. Slowly, Sirius turned around and saw the wizard standing and pointing his wand at him. “Sit!”
Knowing he didn’t stand a chance without his wand, he walked over to an armchair and sat down.
“The boy is alright. The World Cup took place a week ago and it’s already 30^th August,” Sirius spotted some letters on the table, next to the newspapers, those were all addressed to him. “He sent you those. You can read them later. I’ll even let you go to him, but first we need to make some things clear.”
“What do you want from me?” he wanted answers; he desperately needed them, because right now he didn’t understand a thing of what was going on. ‘Why is this wizard in my house and how did he even get in here? If he’s not interested in getting closer to Harry then what does he want from me? If he wanted to send me to Azkaban he wouldn’t bother tending to me for two months.’
“What I want you to do is to look after that boy…” the other man started, but was cut off by Sirius.
“So it is about him after all” he snorted. “I’ll sooner die than let you or anyone else lay a finger on him!”
“There are other people out there that are likely to hurt him. You should be more concerned about them.”
“I’ll protect him from anyone, even from the likes of you!” Sirius agitated stood up, but the other wizard didn’t even budge from his place.
“The likes of me, you say? That’s rich coming from you,” he fought back a laugh. “In case it has slipped your mind, I’m the one who’s been helping you, you ungrateful cur.”
“How did you call me?” Sirius was taken by surprise; this man had to know him from the past. “Who are you? And your voice…I know I’ve heard it somewhere.”
“You’d have to be an idiot not to remember my voice,” the wizard snorted and took off the hood of his cloak, revealing his identity.
At that moment his blood went cold, he almost forgot to breath and his mind was trying to process nearly a million questions. He sat back in the armchair since his legs were threatening to fail him and he simply stared wide eyed at the man before him. For a second, Sirius even considered that someone was playing a very nasty trick on him using polyjuice potion, but on second thought even that explanation seemed too farfetched.
“Oi! Snap out of it, Sirius,” said the other black haired man removing the cloak from his shoulders. “We don’t have time for this.”
“But…how is that…how is that possible? Regulus…” was all Sirius could mumble to his younger brother, who seemed very much alive.
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Meddling with Darkness