Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Gringotts, the Leaky Cauldron or anything else in JKR's wonderful world. Except for the little pebble just to left of the front doors of Hogwarts. I put that there. I might own that. Maybe. But probably not.

A/N: This is the first story I started working on several years ago and I only have two chapters complete. Please don't expect quick or regular updates. My muse is very flighty and sometimes it takes months to get my one shots finished so this one will take awhile. Plus, it's going to be long. If you don't care for that I certainly understand if you don't want to start reading it. Thank you.

Narcissa Malfoy does not forgive and forget and you will learn that Harry is messed up in certain ways.

The House of Healing Souls

Chapter 1: A Proposition

"What do you say? A sickle and two knuts and I'll show you a better time than you can get down here."

Narcissa Malfoy absolutely loathed the words coming out of her mouth, but it was what her life had come down to. That she hated her way of life went without saying. Impoverished by the Ministry, her husband in Azkaban for life and abandoned by her son, she couldn't go much lower in society than to be a whore in Knockturn Alley. But she was a Black, and a Malfoy, and while the name Malfoy was ridiculed and despised throughout magical Britain, a Black never gave up, never gave in to the circumstances they found themselves in. They worked and fought to change those circumstances to their advantage to gain revenge on those who had put them in those circumstances in the first place. And she would have her revenge; she'd sworn that to herself… on all of them.

She ran the back of her middle finger in a gentle caress up the jaw line of her next potential source of income and said in her most sultry voice, one that hinted of the pleasures to be had. "I'll make it very worth your while."

A hand clad in a soft, dark gray glove passed in front of her eyes, followed by an arm in a dark gray sleeve, but what had caught her attention had been the glinting of the golden galleon held between the fingers of that glove and her eyes followed it as it was pressed to the top of the bar.

"That," came a scratchy, soft voice, "is to talk. This is for the night beyond- if you wish."

Her eyes came back to where the other gloved hand was dangling a small, dark gray purse from its index finger. Small, but full, and if it was full of galleons, which she believed it was based on the size of the circle pressing into its side, then she wouldn't make that much money in a month of working the johns in the alley.

But it was the face behind the purse full of coins that had her attention. Or rather, lack of a face. There were no eyes under the hood of the dark gray cloak surrounding where a face should have been. No nose, mouth, chin or jaw was visible, only a dark gray nothingness that chilled her. She knew who this was, this enigma of Knockturn, and that knowledge made her hesitate.

The Shadow Man.

The first time she'd heard his name she'd laughed. It was just too melodramatic. Someone who dressed up and glamoured themselves and snuck around in the dark terrorizing evil doers? But her thoughts had changed as she'd learned more about him. Cloaked and faceless he'd appeared in the Alley not long before she herself had taken up residence there. But, unlike her, he didn't live there; he merely terrified some of its other residents. It was whispered he was an unbeatable fighter, could do things not even magic could account for, and couldn't be found, followed or anticipated. No one knew who he was, what his business was, where he came from or where he went. But people vanished when he appeared, were found beaten and bloody, or simply terrified out of their wits. The whispers said there were those he did business with, but nobody she had heard of would ever admit it.

There were stories as well. One of the other girls had told her there was nothing they had to fear from him. They plied their trade, made their living as best they could and not one was known to have even spoken to him.

Until tonight. She wasn't certain she wanted to be the first, but her intended target had quietly slid off his stool and given the two of them a wide berth as he made his way to the other end of the bar, where nervous eyes tried to watch while trying to appear to not be watching.

The facelessness of the glamour made her wary, the color of his clothing made him seem to be a part of the shadows of the bar, as if he were to back up into them he would vanish from sight, and from existence.

The hand with the purse moved, placing it on the bar beside the coin already there. She followed its travel, then looked back at that not-face and decided. There'd been no threat in his voice, no menacing moves, no feeling of danger, just a simple statement. She reached for the purse but his hand moved again and covered it.

"After we talk." That soft, strangely scratchy voice sounded.

She looked back to his not-face, slightly disconcerted. She'd gotten very good at reading faces, their subtle expressions, the little lines, and the eyes. Especially the eyes. She could tell a lot by looking into someone's eyes. Not being able to see his face through the glamour took away a very important tool. But she would have to do without this time. "Very well." She said as she changed the movement of her hand to the coin, something she hadn't held in several years now. She'd forgotten just how much one of them weighed. "Where shall we talk?"

A sideways nod of the head indicated a table back in one of the corners of the room…a dark corner. Not particularly to her liking, but at least he didn't want to leave the bar. She followed him to the table where he surprised her by pulling out a chair for her. A gentleman in a place like this? Would wonders never cease? It was only as he was seating himself that she realized his choice of her chair had left her with her back to the room, while he had a view of the entire place. She wasn't overly worried, she was known here and Suzy, the other girl working the opposite end of the bar, would have her back. That's the way it was with the prostitutes of Knockturn Alley. Unless she scored.

But she would handle that if and when she needed to. Just the same she pressed her right forearm against the arm of her chair to insure her wand was there, ready at a moment's notice if she needed it. Just in case.

And then the man on the other side of the table waved his hand in an almost languid manner and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt the privacy and notice-me-not charms going up around them; powerful charms, without a wand. She couldn't keep herself from jerking slightly. Whoever he was, he was a powerful wizard, and she was suddenly far more nervous than she cared for. What did he want with her?

A low chuckle was his response. "I don't wish our talk to be the gossip of the alley. You are free to leave whenever you wish."

She wondered if that was really his voice or if he'd charmed that as well. Not that it mattered. While she was in no hurry to be finished with him, after all, that galleon was more than she'd make all night, she was curious as to why they were here, though. "You've paid for a talk, what would you like to talk about?"

"I have a proposition for you."

"That goes without saying." She replied with a slight smile. "After all, it's what I'm here for."

"I wish for you to be my woman."

The words, said in a calm and forthright manner, totally stunned her. Who was he to say that to her? It was well known throughout the magical world where she was and what she was. She no longer had any power of any kind in that world, whether political, financial or even familial to give any kind of aid to anybody. To everyone she had known she was a thing to be scorned, looked down upon, humiliated and worse of all, ignored. So why would this shadowy, enigmatic…person, want her for his woman? Yes, she was still beautiful, but her cleanliness was due more to the scourgify spell than to water and soap, her makeup was the cheapest she could find, some of her clothes were getting to the point where even a reparo couldn't help and she'd had to cut her long hair to above her shoulders to make it easier to keep clean. So, despite her beauty, there were other, better looking women to choose from. Merlin, she could name several of the prostitutes she knew who looked better than she did right now! So why her?

Unless it was because of who she was, Narcissa Malfoy. She knew many people had been hurt by the Malfoy's over the years, some quite badly. For a lot of people, resentment that her husband Lucius had managed to avoid Azkaban after the first wizard war back in '81 ran very deep. His arrogance, almost blatant corruption of the ministry, underhanded dealings, and just plain bigoted attitude towards anyone or anything he considered beneath him, and that was almost everyone and everything, had made him even more enemies. Was this man someone who had a grudge against him, or an agent of someone who did, and was going to take it out on her because he couldn't get back at her husband now that he was in Azkaban? If she accepted his offer, would she just vanish as several people had?

"Why me?" She asked.

Instead of answering, he spoke as if she hadn't. "I'll pay you 20,000 galleons a year, including the rest of this one, payable on the first of each year, into your own vault, not one of Malfoy's, where only you can get to it."

She knew she had to look ridiculous with her mouth hanging open like that but she couldn't help it. She couldn't believe what he was saying even as the possibilities of what she could do with that amount of money began to fly through her head.

He wasn't finished however. "In addition, you will have your own room where I will never enter without your express permission, and five days of each month, in addition to those days where Mother Nature visits you, when you may tell me 'no' without any consequences at all. In return I ask only that when we are together you give me total control and obey me in what I tell you." He shrugged. "However, I recognize there may be some activities in which you will not wish to participate. In that event we will discuss your feelings and make a decision as to proceed or not."

She'd been in shock, unable to really understand what he was saying until he'd said "you give me total control and obey me". Thoughts of large amounts of money, and 20,000 was a large amount, left her at the implication of that phrase. "You want me to be some kind of sex slave for you." Her tone was cool, a hint of her displeasure showing through.

He shrugged again. "If you wish to think of it that way, but only during any sexual activities for which I'd be paying you. The rest of the time you'd be free to pursue any projects or activities that might interest you. After all, isn't that what you are, and what you do now?"

She leaned back in her chair as she pondered the logic of that. In a way, he was right; much as she was loathe to admit it, she had to accommodate her customers' wishes, do what they wanted. But at least she had control. "So you say, but here, I can leave anytime I like."

"As you could with me; I won't force you to do anything you don't want to." He replied. "Pack up, pick up and leave anytime you like, there will be no compulsions to stay. You can even take any possessions of yours with you as well as any money and gifts I might have given you. It's your choice."

She realized she was gaping again at what he'd just said and closed her mouth. "Anytime I want?"

"Anytime you want." He cocked his head to the side as if amused by disbelief.

She had to be certain about this. "So, if you put the money in my vault on January first, I could leave on the second? With the money, no questions asked?"

"Yes."

She sat staring at him, trying to figure why he was doing this. There had to be some reason for why he was saying what he was, doing what he was, but she couldn't figure it out. There had to be a catch, something to trap her, to keep her from doing exactly what she had just said. He couldn't be that magnanimous. So she asked the question. "Why?"

"Because I have plans and you are a big part of them, but only as a willing participant. I can only be certain you'll stay if you're absolutely certain you can leave at any time. I can't force you to be a part of them because they wouldn't work if I did."

"What makes you think I would want to be a part of any plans you had in the first place?" She was beginning to wonder if she shouldn't leave right now her confusion level was getting so high. She didn't like it and it was beginning to come through in the tone of her voice.

"Because I can give you the one thing you want that nobody else can, or will."

"What's that?"

"Where are you, Narcissa Malfoy?" He asked, once again avoiding her questions.

She snorted with disdain. "That should be obvious." She replied.

"Why?"

The question took her by surprise. Didn't he know why she was here? Everyone else did. "Why what?"

"Why are you here?"

"Why else would I be here? I'm broke, barely making ends meet, my husband is in prison, my son abandoned me, and I'm homeless and have nowhere else to go. Where else would I be?" Sheasked angrily.

"But why are you here?"

"I just told you!" She answered hotly, leaning over the table towards him as her anger at his obtuseness rose.

"But surely the Lady Malfoy has friends who would assist her, help her in her time of trouble, be there to lend a helping hand and take her in."

She could hear the smirk he must be wearing behind that glamour as he spoke of her troubles. "Yeah, right." She leaned back into her seat so hard she thought it would collapse under her. "That pack of hyenas couldn't wait to throw themselves onto the carcass of house Malfoy." She said, remembering a time of her life she preferred to forget. "There was no help from them. I practically begged some of them to take Draco and me ….."

Her head snapped up, back straight, eyes narrowed as she looked at him warily, finally realizing what he was offering. "Revenge." She stated in a low, hard tone, still watching him closely.

"I always thought you were the smart one in that family." He said. Again, she thought she could hear an expression in his voice, this time a sly smile. But his remark intrigued her. Did they know each other previously or did he just know of her? She put the thought aside for later as he continued. "Lucius was cunning and clever but his plans had a habit of going awry. Draco hardly ever thought beyond the moment, unless he was planning something and his plans were even worse than his father's. Why the hat put him in Slytherin was beyond understanding. They were both far too interested in being the center of attention to look at the consequences of their actions if their plans failed."

"You, however, were very careful to keep yourself out of the public eye unless it was to further your agenda. Balls, gatherings, Ministry functions, there you were, center stage in all your glory. But I think it was more to mask and distract people's eyes from what Lucius was doing than to simply attract attention to you. You could have been Slytherin himself. Tell me, Lady Malfoy, how many of your husband's actions in corrupting the Ministry to the extent that he did, were his ideas, and how many were yours?"

That question shook her. The ideas had been her husband's, but she had helped with many of them, fine tuning them, improving them, usually making them simpler and much less prone to failure. It had been more to keep Lucius out of trouble than to help him corrupt the Ministry, because Merlin help him, he was a grand-stander and several of his schemes had almost seen him in Azkaban when they hadn't worked out as planned.

But nobody had ever before associated her with his plans. That this man had told her much about him. Along with what she already knew, admittedly not much, she could now add very intelligent and incisive.

And much more dangerous.

"Who are you?" she asked warily, moving so she could retrieve her wand at a moment's notice. "And why do your plans involve me?"

"Sometimes, too much knowledge is not a good thing. It can even be dangerous. Those plans are such knowledge. This," a gloved finger flicked the money pouch, "pays for tonight, say, until after breakfast? Decide then if you'll join me. The terms, after all, are very generous."

A flick of her wrist and her wand was in her hand, pointing directly at him as she stood and backed away from the table. But she still wasn't outside the wards he had placed around them. Just how powerful was he? "I'm not going anywhere with you!" She exclaimed in a low dangerous tone, letting him know what would happen if he tried taking her. "I don't know who you are, but I've heard too much about you and your interest in me is far too dangerous for my liking."

"I give you my word nothing other than what I have said will happen to you. Isn't that, the money, and a chance to get out of this place, if only for a night, worth it? Clean sheets, a warm bed, food you don't have to pay for, a real bath, clean clothes, and the luxury of not having to sleep with one eye open in case somebody here might think to try and take what you need to sell to survive? And let's not forget that you would only have one man to please tonight."

She listened to his arguments, admitting that they were good ones, and oh so very tempting, but what good would those things be if she wasn't alive to enjoy them? Or worse. "No, and there's nothing you can say to make me change my mind."

He looked at her for a few seconds, then leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table, palms flat on the top, and said something in a low, almost whisper soft tone, which did exactly that. "Is Draco alive?" The words were followed by an almost unnoticeable nod.

She stood stunned, her arm and wand falling to her side, staring wide eyed. It wasn't possible! She'd never told anyone about those words! She slumped into her chair her legs going weak and unable to hold her any longer. It can't be! He's gone; he's been missing for almost four years!

Without thinking she reached across the table and pushed back the hood hiding his face, the glamour vanishing as she did so and she found herself looking into the eyes of the only other person alive who could possibly know what she'd said, what she'd done, on that dark, horrible night five years before.

Deep, emerald green eyes.

"Potter."