Disclaimer: Anything you recognize I do not own. It belongs to J.K Rowling and H.P Lovecraft (further on in the story).
A/N: Here I am again. I do hope whoever reads enjoys and please do review, they always make me happy! This story is AU, but it does slightly follow along the Horcrux plot of DH...it begins not long after HBP ends. This is a SLASH story. You have been warned. A very special thank you to my Beta, Michy! You are simply amazing, I have baked you pixel cookies and I hope you enjoy! ;)
Summary: It is a stormy night when Draco Malfoy seeks the assistance of none other than Harry Potter. On the brink of beginning a horcrux hunt, what is he supposed to do when his old rival comes seeking sanctuary? What is he supposed to do when that supposed enemy comes forward saying that the prophecy was wrong and it was truly the Dark Lord who has power that the Order knows not? It turns out the Order has been looking in all the wrong places and Draco Malfoy is going to help Harry look in the right ones...

Chapter One
Rain

Harry loved the rain.

Everything about it, he enjoyed. The sound it made against the window panes, the after-smell it created in the air, the way it could change from ferocious to light in a split second, or gather just in one small area. He felt safe when it rained. Unlike any other weather, he could astutely hear every single passer-by; the soles of their shoes almost resonated against the small puddles on the pavement, the grass made uneasy, squashing noises beneath their feet.

Yes, Harry knew that whenever it rained, he would be having a good evening. Nobody rightfully flew a broom in the rain. The wards around not only the Dursley's residence, but all of Privet Drive, made it impossible to Apparate in or Disapparate out of there. Henceforth, he appreciated the rain even more. He was able to leave the house, undaunted by fleeting thoughts of any ill that could befall him. Rain meant the ability to be alone, away from his cousin, away from that wretched house where he spent all of his time locked up in his room. Hedwig, however, hated the rain. She would remain cooped up, hooting softly in protest when Harry would leave her to enjoy his time alone, not caring about the drenched state of his clothing, walking about the dark, empty streets of Privet Drive.

His hands were in his pockets, his face slightly up turned towards the falling droplets, as he let them splash across his features. Rain was like a never ending shower. He never understood why everybody else seemed to despise it so much. His worries, his pelting inward questions, his constant plotting, all washed away with the rain. Even if it were only for a few moments, it was a blissful few moments of peace. He wished briefly he could be enjoying the rain in the fields by the Burrow, or even on the doorstep of the Headquarters at the Noble House of Black. He knew he couldn't, but soon... soon he could join his friends, as soon as he had been at the Dursleys' long enough for the blood magic that tied him there every summer to be fulfilled. It was his seventeenth birthday in two weeks' time. He counted every second as a step closer to freedom. A step closer to the hunt.

A yawn escaped him, and he reluctantly began his slow waddle home, dragging his feet as he did. As much as he despised his time at the Dursleys', he still acknowledged it as the place where he grew up. Distant and vague memories found him before him shoved them back away. His mind had more important matters to tend to...

...like why there was a strange, familiar boy standing in Aunt Petunia's garden, soaked from head-to-toe in not just rain, but also what appeared to be blood and sweat.

"Potter! For Merlin's sake, there you are! I have been looking for you all night and those damned, disgusting Muggles were of the most useless sort!"

Harry was frozen to his spot on the Dursleys' driveway. His teeth barred, his skin crawled, his fists clenched, with one hand gripping the wand within his trousers. This couldn't be happening. This certainly couldn't be happening. Not here, not now, not him, not ever. He drew his wand, pointing it, unshaking, in the Slytherin's direction. "Give me one good reason not to turn you over to the Ministry this minute, Malfoy!" he snapped, his voice laced with venom.

Malfoy, despite the weariness that was overcoming his cold body, drew a smirk directed at the end of Harry's wand. He rolled up his dirtied, stained crimson sleeve of his left arm, revealing skin torn to shreds; superficial wounds, but deep enough for there to hardly be a trace of a Dark Mark left. "Do you think I wanted to come here, Potter? I need your help."

Just as Harry started to wrap his head around the wounded arm he saw before him, and the words of the other boy, in the distance, the sound of wailing sirens began to draw nearer. Harry gaped. "Malfoy, what did you do to them?" He gestured towards the house. Finally finding his feet and ability to move once more, he pushed passed the boy and towards his house. He heard shouting from inside.

"Who, the Muggles? Nothing. I merely asked where you were and when they refused to assist me I searched the place and –"

"Bloody hell, you're such an imbecile," Harry muttered darkly. "If I find you have harmed even a hair on their heads, there won't be any of you left to lock away in Azkaban."

The sound of sirens became louder, almost deafening, and the flashing lights were beginning to become visible. Malfoy stared at them in befuddlement. "What is that? Some sort of Muggle parade? Odd, this time of night, in this weather –"

"It's the bleeding police, Malfoy! Probably coming to get you, no doubt, for breaking and entering!"

"Po-lice?" Malfoy spoke the foreign words oddly on his lips.

Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Muggle Aurors,"

"Are there such thing? Potter, I swear, I will murder you if you let me go to some sort of foul, Muggle prison! I came here asking for sanctuary, please!" Malfoy's voice began to sound panicked.

Harry quickly rounded on him, and without another thought, grabbed him by the collar of his torn shirt and dragged him, with ease, up to the front door of Number Four, slamming him against it.

With narrowed, dark eyes, Harry glared icily at Malfoy, his wand now jabbed into his throat. Malfoy hissed, but he did not react otherwise. He did not push himself off or fight to retrieve his own wand.

"Sanctuary? Sanctuary?!" Harry hissed, "After all you have done, you think you can just come here and ask for sanctuary from me? You must have a death wish! Maybe I should let Mungo's take you instead of the Aurors –"

The sirens were deafening. The lights flashed only a few houses down now, and there were three cop cars, coming to a halting stop. The dark, rainy street was lit up by the commotion.

"Please, Potter! My parents..." Malfoy's voice fell, as he looked down away from Harry's angry, piercing eyes. "...They're dead. You are the only left, the only one I thought could help me. Please," he looked up slowly, his eyes irritated, red, bulging slightly. To Harry's astonishment, Malfoy looked dreadfully sorrowful.

"Give me your wand," Harry demanded. He could hear shouts as doors opened and slammed promptly. Feet sloshed on the pavement, in the grass, drawing nearer.

"What? No way, you are bloody insane if you th-"

"Give me your wand or I won't help,"

Malfoy peered over Harry's shoulder at the oddly dressed men in black, wearing helmets that to him, appeared equestrian in nature. Reluctantly, hissing in pain as he did, he withdrew his wand and placed it into Harry's waiting hand. The brunette levelled one more glare at him before harshly releasing him. Malfoy still used the door as support, his legs threatening to give out. Harry quickly pocketed both of the wands and turned towards the police officers, the lights nearly blinding him, their manic shouting for them to turn around flooding him. Harry sighed and put his hands in the air, stealing another glance over at the mortified, confused and dreary looking blond slumped behind his back.

"Officers, please, I live here, there's been a misunderstanding..." Harry began through gritted teeth. Two of the closest officers used this opportunity. They were reciting rights. Harry grunted as his wrist was suddenly snatched, and he was spun around on the spot, metal cuffs slipping into place. The other officer did the same to Malfoy, who cried out as his own wounded arm was taken, his front slammed into the door now, his face pressed against it.

"Who do you think you are, you filthy Mug-"

"Malfoy! Shut up, I'll handle this!" Harry snapped.

As they were being dragged away, Harry decided that no, he no longer liked the rain. In fact, he despised it.