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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
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Chapter 3
The heavy silence in 12 Grimmauld Place was unbearable. Regulus Black looked at his brother, he seemed to be thunderstruck and the younger Black couldn’t blame him; after all, for the last fourteen or so years everyone thought he was dead.
Normally, he would give his brother time to deal with this unexpected discovery, but they were really running out of time. He needed to talk things through with Sirius not only to put Voldemort’s plans in motion, but also for Sirius’ own wellbeing and happiness. Regulus was aware that his brother had discovered the truth about the past and right now wanted to get his family back more than anything, but they couldn’t afford any more mistakes; this time Sirius had to work with them and not just stand by and be neutral.
“Sirius, pull yourself together,” he tried to get some kind of reaction from the other man, but there was none. Glancing at Kreacher he said, “Fetch some calming draught for Sirius, please.”
A few moments later the house elf appeared in the room again, small bottle of potion in his hands.
“Here, drink this,” said Regulus placing the bottle in his brother’s hands and urging him to empty it.
Not able to think coherently, Sirius obediently drank the potion and quickly felt its effects. His breathing calmed down, mind cleared of unnecessary thoughts and he was finally able to think straight.
“Regulus…how?” was his short, simple question, when he calmed down enough to look his brother straight in the eyes. “You’re alive. It’s not a joke, right?”
“It’s true. I’m alive, but it was necessary for me to fake my own death,” seeing how the other wizard followed his every move, but not with suspicion, this time it was to make sure he really wasn’t dreaming, Regulus stood up and walked over to one of the cabinets holding some family heirlooms. “Now it’s time for me to come back. That’s why I helped you.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone? We were all distraught…we thought you were dead,” kept asking Sirius.
“I did that for the family.”
“What are you talking about? How was that any good for the family?” Sirius was getting agitated again and couldn’t sit in his place.
“Sit down. You always get so emotional,” replied the younger man, holding a long box in his hands. “Our family was being watched. Our every move was being reported, because they suspected me to be a Death Eater. With me dead, the Ministry left you alone.”
Sirius watched the box being placed on the table in front of him and gave his brother a questioning look.
“You don’t have your wand and until an opportunity arises to retrieve you old wand, you could use this one,” Regulus opened the box and revealed an elegant wand with rich ornaments.
“There’s no way I’m going to use mother’s wand!” protested immediately the older of the brothers.
“Don’t be childish!” reprimanded him the other wizard. “There isn’t much time! You’ll need to look after the boy this school year and if everything goes fine, you’ll be able to set all the things straight. But in order to do that, you need a wand. You and mother were very much alike in more ways than you feel comfortable to admit.”
“Why should I trust you?” asked Sirius with a sad expression. “You pretended to be dead, never helped us since then, not to mention you were a Death Eater and now you obviously need Harry for some schemes of Voldemort. Why should I trust you, Regulus?”
“Because that’s what family does…we trust and help each other. Something you forgot last time,” the younger man allowed his brother a moment to collect himself. His words surely hit home – Sirius knew that if he had trusted his family last time, the Potters would still be alive and his lover wouldn’t abandon him. “You’re not the only person who lost someone that night thirteen years ago.”
Without a word, the older brother stood up and walked to the window, absentmindedly watching passers-by on the street. He listened to what Regulus was saying, but he still had mixed feelings. He used to trust his family, even if some of them were Death Eaters, he just knew they were good people after all and he remained neutral; but right now he didn’t know what to do. It all seemed his family members were the only ones trying to help him, but he couldn’t make this dreadful feeling of suspicion go away whenever his brother talked about Harry. Keeping the boy safe meant more than his own life to Sirius.
“You know, since I escaped Azkaban I saw him…both of them and yet I couldn’t tell them the truth about the past,” he said not looking away from the window. “I wondered if it’s even possible to make things right, the way they should be.”
“It is possible,” he felt a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “Just let me help you.”
“But you want to use Harry…”
“No. I want him to be by your side like he should be, and to help our family,” catching his brother’s attention, Regulus pointed at a pensieve standing in the corner of the room. “I need you to see something.”
Not having anything to lose Sirius walked over to the pensieve and saw that a memory was already waiting there for him. With one last glance at his brother who gently motioned for him to continue, Sirius lowered his head into the pensieve and quickly immersed into the memory.
Waiting for his brother to finish watching the memory of painful past events, Regulus sat on the sofa and observed the clock, controlling the time flow. A sudden noise behind him informed him that Sirius was back with him in the room.
One glance at his brother and the younger Black knew Sirius had just experienced the biggest shock of his life.
“This memory belongs to…”
“Voldemort,” finished Regulus.
“You knew. You knew he didn’t attack them,” Sirius received a nod as a confirmation. Then a long silence fell in the room and Regulus hoped he wouldn’t have to force his brother to help with the Dark Lord’s plans. He honestly wanted to help Sirius get back the loved ones who were taken from him, but he also wanted Voldemort’s scheme to work out. “I refuse to be a Death Eater…but I’ll do whatever you need me to do, as long as I get to stay by Harry’s side to protect him.”
The older wizard picked up his mother’s wand and gave it a try. It wasn’t perfect; not quite as good as his own wand, “It will have to do.”
Regulus stood closer to his brother, put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I’m grateful for what you’re doing, Sirius.”
“I should be thanking you. If not for your help I would have never got married and I’d probably be dead by now.”
“Kreacher,” the younger man called the house elf. “Make sure my brother gets enough food and fetch some clean clothes. Tomorrow, we’re leaving for the Blacks’ House in Edinburgh…you wanted to be at least somewhat closer to the boy, right?”

Next evening Sirius was left alone in the Blacks’ House in Edinburgh. Regulus left him there since he needed to attend some meeting; even though he didn’t tell him much, Sirius knew it was a meeting with Voldemort. Although none of the newspapers he read informed about the Dark Lord’s return, he was certain the dark wizard somehow found a way to come back; otherwise, Regulus wouldn’t act the way he did.
It all reminded Sirius of the previous war. His brother was always so eager to attend the Death Eaters’ meetings and do Voldemort’s bidding. The fact that Regulus and some other family members were Death Eaters didn’t bother him; not unless they harmed someone dear to him.
Thinking about all that has happened recently brought back memories. He never felt good about pretending he was someone else; so in the last war he chose to be neutral and not get too involved in the Order of the Phoenix’s activities. There were people important to Sirius on both Light and Dark side, hence why he didn’t want to get involved. Truth to be told, he wasn’t interested in the outcome of the war at all; he preferred to leave politics to other people. That, however, changed when James, Lily and his family got manipulated into the biggest mess one could possibly imagine.
During his twelve years in Azkaban all he could think about was how his life changed from almost perfect to downright catastrophic. But now there seemed to be hope to fix everything; now he knew for certain, he made a mistake not trusting his family back then but the outcome of the war wasn’t entirely his fault.
He sat on the stairs between ground and first floor and tried to force himself to do something while he waited for Regulus’ return. The hard part was that this particular house brought too many memories, both bad and good ones. Sirius wanted to take his mind off problems by cleaning the house, since there were no house elves here and it was unused for over a decade, but whichever room he entered he realised it was untouched; looking just the way it did when he lived here with his small, precious family.
Sirius always liked this house better than their main house in London, for many reasons. For instance, the existence and exact location of this house was known only to the Black family members. It was beautifully located not far from the city centre and just like 12 Grimmauld Place, it was unplottable. The house was slightly smaller than the London one; on the ground floor there was a dining, drawing room, a library and a small study; first floor contained of one master bedroom, a guestroom and another spacious room that Sirius locked out and preferred to keep it that way; and the second floor held three other bedrooms; there was also a basement where kitchen was located and some other smaller rooms that right now served as a storage.
Sighing heavily Sirius stood up from the stairs and went to the study, “I should write to Harry that I’m alright.”
He took out some parchment, ink and a quill and started briefly explaining in his letter what happened to him in the last two months. Finishing his letter Sirius thought for a second before a wicked smile appeared on his face. The man took another piece of parchment and wrote permission for Harry to visit Hogsmead, “Yes. That could come in handy, when I’m finally able to move freely from this house.”

On 1^st September Harry headed with Hermione and the Weasleys to London. As always Platform 9 ¾ was so crowded it was difficult to move around, but eventually they managed to get on the train and find their seats. The twins left them to look for Lee Jordan and Ginny vanished somewhere with her friends just after she sent a series of awkward smiles towards Harry. He didn’t quite understand why Ron’s sister acted that way in his presence and he had to admit it was somewhat disturbing at times, but he didn’t give it much thought since apart from that Ginny seemed to be a nice person and a friend.
The three of them remained in the corridor, standing by the window. Ron was desperately trying to make Mrs Weasley stop her overprotective-mother speech. It was at times like these that Harry envied his friend his family.
‘Would be nice to have my parents see me off to school,’ he thought. ‘Although I probably wouldn’t think like that if my mum started acting like Mrs Weasley,’ was his last thought at which he chuckled inwardly.
“Just look at the git.” Ron’s words brought him back from his thoughts and he followed his gaze.
Not far from them, still on the platform, stood Draco with his parents. Harry watched the blond say goodbye to his parents, but the three of them acted reservedly. From a bystander’s point of view it looked very cold, yet Harry vaguely remembered from the blond’s old letters that he was rather close with both his mother and father; so maybe it was just a pureblood thing not to show your feelings openly in the public.
“He’s acting all smug because the aurors didn’t catch his mummy and daddy at the World Cup,” continued the redhead.
“Leave it, Ron,” said Hermione. “One of these days they will get caught and punished for the way they treat others.”
Harry simply listened to his friends and had mixed feelings. On one hand he didn’t like the way the Malfoys treated others, but he also knew that they were capable of kindness, at least Draco was; otherwise the blond wouldn’t save him.
Either way, all he could think of for the last few days was the letter he sent to Draco. Since then Harry didn’t get any answer. That day Hedwig came back without any letter, but at least she was unharmed which was a good sign. Though he wondered if the lack of response was the blond’s way of saying ‘sod off, Potter,’ or was he going to accept Harry’s offer and act civilized towards him.
“Malfoy,” said Ron with annoyance clear in his voice and refused to move from his place.
“Why so hostile, Weasley?” was Draco’s response and he continued with an evil smirk. “Not scared enough after the last week’s events?”
“What happened at the Quidditch World Cup was serious. It shouldn’t be taken lightly, Malfoy,” reprimanded him Hermione.
The blond just shrugged huffing, “Out of my way, Granger.”
Hearing the short conversation and seeing Draco’s behaviour, Harry felt the need to roll his eyes. It looked as if the blond was unreformable; although the fact that he didn’t say a word about Harry seemed almost like a progress.
The blond moved forward to the Slytherins’ compartment, on his way pushing all three of them so hard that Harry nearly fell.
“With attitude like that he probably has friends only because of his family name and fortune,” commented Ron and walked into their compartment. Hermione followed him.
Until they left London, Harry couldn’t stop thinking of what Ron said about Malfoy’s friends. It also reminded him of Draco’s own words a week ago: ‘I really thought you were my friend; the first person who liked me and not my social status.’ Maybe he really misjudged the blond three years ago.
“Harry. Harry!” Hermione tried to get his attention. “Are you even listening to us?”
“Sorry, I spaced out for a moment,” he apologized. “So, what were you talking about?”
“I asked what exactly did Padfood write in his letter?” asked again Hermione.
“Not much, just that he was safe and so on. I’ll show you, so you can read it yourself,” Harry looked for the letter in the pockets of his hoodie and discovered something odd.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ron when he saw his friend’s surprised expression.
“Nothing,” he lied; took out the letter from Sirius and handed it to Hermione.
The truth was he found in his pocket more than one piece of parchment and he was certain that he had put there only the message from his godfather. While the other two teens were engaged in the lecture of Sirius’ letter, Harry pulled out the other note from his pocket and quickly put it back inside. Just a glimpse of the handwriting told him it was a message from Draco. He didn’t want either Ron or Hermione to find out about it just yet, so he decided to read it in private.
Two hours later a chance occurred when the redhead left to search for the loo and Hermione went out to discuss some girl stuff with Ginny. Harry quickly opened the letter and a small smile appeared on his face.
Potter,
So you want to get on first name basis again, eh? We’ll see about that, but I’m willing to give it a try. Meet me tomorrow at 7am, in the Clock Tower.
If you dare bring any of your Gryffindor friends with you, you’ll find out how really unpleasant I can get.
Draco.
‘Charming as always,’ Harry thought with a laugh. He folded the parchment and hid it in his pocket.
Even though the blond once again acted all arrogant, he didn’t mind. For some reason Draco’s letter and the small threat in it actually made Harry smile; after all, this was his chance to get his very first friend back and it seemed Draco wanted that as well.

Dumbledore was pacing in his office and tried to organise his thoughts. He had an unsettling feeling about the upcoming months and the fact that in a few weeks, students from two other schools were arriving didn’t help much. The headmaster preferred to have control over the situation, but things were slipping through his fingers. What bothered him the most was the situation with Sirius.
All in all Black was a good man and Albus always had the feeling it wasn’t Sirius who betrayed the Potters, but he had no evidence that it wasn’t him who killed Peter Pettigrew. For so many years, Dumbledore felt remorse that he never even tried to defend the man and get him out of Azkaban; then again, he reasoned that maybe it turned out better that way; at least Harry was with the Dursleys, exactly where he wanted the boy to be.
Young Harry was another matter. If Albus was right about Voldemort not being dead, then Harry would have to play a major role in his plan to defeat the Dark Lord. All those years, the headmaster prepared the boy to go along with what he planned for him. However, the sudden appearance of Black could interrupt them. Knowing Sirius well enough, he was certain the man would protect Harry from any harm and sacrificing the boy for the good of wizarding world as a whole would be out of the question.
“Surely, you’re not thinking of accepting this,” interrupted his thoughts the voice of headmaster Dippet, who sceptically watched Dumbledore analysing Harry’s Hogsmead trips permission. “It’s not even a proper form.”
“It seems good enough for me, Armando,” answered Albus. In fact, he shouldn’t accept the permission Sirius sent him, but that seemed to be the only way to have some kind of control over Black and Harry’s meetings; because he was sure the man would take advantage of Hogsmead trips to meet with his godson.
It bothered him that not only Pettigrew has fled, but also Sirius vanished after his escape last June. At least this permission written by Black was a proof he was safe, but Albus would rather know where the man was hiding and what he was planning.
‘I’ll have to keep a closer eye on Harry this year.’

Next morning, when all of his housemates were still asleep, Harry slipped out of Gryffindor Tower, put on the Invisibility Cloak and headed to the Clock Tower. He had almost an hour before his meeting with Draco, but he decided it was safer to get there sooner; besides, if Hermione or Ron saw him sneaking out of the common room so early they’d get suspicious and the last thing he needed right now was his friends following him.
Since he wasn’t in a hurry, he took his time to observe the castle. He was never up this early and it fascinated him how only the ghosts flew around the corridors; this early in the morning Hogwarts really looked like a haunted place. Harry didn’t even stumble across any teachers.
He finally got to the Clock Tower, still having twenty minutes until his meeting with the blond. With the time flowing, Harry was getting more and more anxious of what to expect. The fact that Draco agreed to meet with him didn’t have to necessarily mean that they would forget the past three years of hating each other and simply go back to being friends; although the more Harry thought about it the more he wanted his blond friend back.
Ten minutes later Draco arrived. The teen stopped in front of Harry, looking all smug and asked, “So what was it exactly that made you send me a letter, Potter? I must admit seeing your owl sitting on my window sill was by far the biggest surprise in the last few years.”
“It’s just…just that,” Harry stuttered not sure how to explain what made him change his mind about the blond. “After we talked…after the World Cup, I started reminiscent of when we met.”
“And?” Draco urged him to continue.
“You remember how I told you I never had friends in my Muggle school,” the blond nodded that he remembered. “And you were my special friend, my very first friend. And I guess, hearing you insulting people with Muggle relatives…I thought you also meant me, and it really hurt to hear that from someone I considered so special.”
“Are you insane, Potter? How could you even jump to such a ridiculous conclusion?” asked a bit agitated Draco. “I wasn’t insulting you. Only other people with Muggle blood in them.”
“How is that any different? My mum was a Muggle-born witch,” protested Harry.
“Because, Potter, when I accept someone as my friend, I consider them better than all the rest of the world and they get special treatment,” answered the blond with a strained voice.
“Isn’t that kind of…two-faced?” asked the black haired boy with a goofy smile growing on his face when he heard Draco considered him his friend and someone better than others.
“Dear Morgana, give me strength to deal with him!” called a little exasperated Malfoy. “I’m a pureblood and purebloods always have two faces, one for the public and another for the people they care for. Do you really think I’d be able to have feelings or even respect my parents if they always treated me as coldly as they do in public?”
“I didn’t know it works that way,” said quietly Harry; a bit ashamed he thought so badly about the blond when in fact the teen was just trying to meet the social expectations.
“Well then, now you do.”
“So it doesn’t matter to you that I’m a half-blood?” Harry asked unsure.
“Like I said, the moment I consider you a friend you get special treatment. And if there is something about a person that stands in conflict with the purebloods’ standards then I try to look for some redeeming qualities.”
“But Hermione and Ron also have redeeming qualities, as you call them,” protested the black haired teen. “Hermione is really smart and reads a lot, and Ron is always fun to be around.”
“Well that’s exactly what ticks me off about your…best friends,” said Malfoy with a sneer. “The Harry I met was ambitious, wanted to be a great wizard and he even read some school books out of sheer curiosity. Weasley however keeps you away from doing anything ambitious, because he’d rather have fun, while Granger is just an annoying know-it-all. She only relies on books and lacks intuition.”
For good five minutes Harry just stood there, glaring at the floor. He wanted Draco to see good things about Hermione and Ron, so that they could all be friends and quit the silly fights they were having all the time.
“You didn’t expect me to suddenly be buddy-buddy with the two of them, did you Potter?” the blond sighed resigned and turned around heading to the exit. “When you decide you want to be yourself again, and my old friend Harry comes back, let me know.”
To some extant Malfoy’s words were true. He used to be ambitious, now he took Divination class to have and easy subject; now Quidditch and adventures were more important than becoming a great wizard, and whenever he was lazy he simply allowed Hermione to best him in class.
“Draco, wait!” he called after the other boy who immediately stopped, hearing his name. “Maybe I need my very first friend to help me bring back the old Harry.”
The blond walked back to him and said, “Others won’t accept us becoming friends just like that, but you can write or talk with me whenever you want….Harry,” with that said, he offered him his hand.
Harry shook hands with Draco, just like he should have done in Hogwarts’ Express three years ago. “Friends.”

Yet another time, Regulus was hiding behind the trees close to Riddle House. He was slowly getting annoyed by the fact he needed to sneak into the building as if he was doing something wrong.
Seeing Wormtail leave the house once again to run some errands for the Dark Lord, the wizard snickered. He knew Voldemort was finding more and more meaningless tasks for Pettigrew just to meet with him.
Regulus has always been very loyal to the cause and the Dark Lord himself, since the moment his cousin Bellatrix took him to his first Death Eaters’ meeting. Since the end of last war, not many followers had come back to serve their master and it all made things more difficult. They needed information from inside the Ministry; they needed Harry Potter on their side; and most of all, Voldemort needed to get his body back. Finally, after weeks of experimenting and improving the recipe, Regulus had something of value to the Dark Lord.
He entered the library, not bothering to hide his identity; he knew Barty was already in Hogwarts and Wormtail had just left.
“Regulus,” hissed the dark wizard. “I didn’t expect you today.”
“I know, but I had to bring you this,” Black took out a small bottle of silver potion out of his robes. “I’ve been working on it for weeks. I included your instructions and added some more ingredients that were mentioned in old books from the family library. It’s ready.”
Voldemort stretched his thin, weak arm to take the potion from the other wizard; he observed it for a long moment and forced what appeared to be a smirk.
“Granted it will take time to fully recover, but that’s the best solution I could find,” continued the younger man.
“How long?”
“A few months, half a year maybe,” he explained seeing the other wizard wasn’t too happy about it.
“Let us proceed then,” said Voldemort and gave the potion to Regulus, since he was too weak to uncork the bottle himself. Black opened the bottle, took out a small dagger and was about to cut his hand, when the dark wizard protested. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“This potion doesn’t require your enemy’s blood. It will work even better with the blood of some unspeakably loyal to you,” when the words left his lips, Voldemort used a nonverbal spell and the dagger fell out of Regulus’ hand.
“I will not have you spill your blood in my reviving potion!” hissed the man dangerously.
Black unfazed retrieved the dagger and said firmly, “Just this once, allow me to do what I want to. I beg you.”
After a long moment of silence the Dark Lord nodded, giving the younger one permission to proceed. When the blood mixed with potion, Regulus held the bottle close to the other man’s lips, helping him drink the liquid.
“This potion needs to be taken every three days. And a regular nutrition potion is required daily,” explained Black, leaving three vials on the table by the armchair. “I will return in three days with the rest of the potions. I simply don’t trust that rat to brew a proper one.”
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Meddling with Darkness