I stood outside Number 12, Grimmauld Place wondering if I could possibly force myself to walk in. Could I, Draco Malfoy, a pureblood against Mudbloods and blood traitors, possibly walk in? But I had no place to go. Anywhere was better than where I’d been. Even perfect Potter had believed that.

I tried to smirk about Potter, but I realized that I couldn’t anymore. A year ago I would have never even considered getting help from the Order of the Phoenix, but I had changed in that short amount of time.

---

I never failed to be surprised that I wasn’t dead. Snape, my mother, and Aunt Bella had begged the Dark Lord to do anything but kill me.

He didn’t exactly kill me; he just sentenced me to death.

He said he had another mission for me--one that he knew I would fail. For some reason that had scared me more than when he gave me the task to kill Dumbledore. I knew now that he wanted me to die on the mission--that having me die this way would be more amusing for him than just using the killing curse.

“Find Potter,” the Dark Lord whispered, “and bring him to me.”

I couldn’t have been more surprised if he had yelled it; for a second I forgot everything. Harry Potter was surrounded by the Order day and night as far as I knew. If I were him I wouldn’t have stepped onto the streets. Still, Potter was so damned heroic he was probably plotting the downfall of the greatest wizard who ever lived--I didn’t believe at the time that Potter would ever achieve that. Now the Dark Lord decided to send me. I was sure to die. Everyone in the Order knew I had tried to kill Dumbledore.

Just then I realised that I had been staring blankly for about a minute, so I asked, even though I fully knew I would die, “How?”

He laughed. Had I really expected him to answer? All he told me was, “Find a way or die.”

As I started to walk away, I heard his voice speak softly from behind me, “You will fail. You will die.”

I never looked back. Before I knew it, Bella, Snape and I were looking anywhere Potter might be. Soon Snape got the idea of looking in Godric’s Hollow, so about a month later we were wandering around in the dead of night, looking for Potter anywhere.

Bella, who did have a tendency to be paranoid after spending all those years in Azkaban, thought she heard something, so she shot out a Stunning spell on the ground in front of us. Still, we thought nothing of it.

I suggested we spilt up. Perhaps I had an instinct that I had to be alone; perhaps I was just tired of hearing Snape nagging that I never should have taken the mission. (Did he expect me to tell the Dark Lord that I wouldn’t do I? I wonder what would have happened then. Death, perhaps? Oh, right, great plan.)

So I went forward. Suddenly, I thought I heard breathing. I dismissed the thought since I was getting far to nervous. I started walking forward through a deserted lot.

Then, I tripped.

I looked back. It appeared that I tripped on air. I couldn’t see anything, but I knew I had felt something solid. I groped around the ground until I felt what I had tripped on.

One spell later, the Disillusionment charm was off of Potter, who had gotten hit with Bella’s Stunning spell

“You really should have been quieter,” I told him in a haughty, superior voice. “And where is the rest of the Wonder Trio? Off trying to find world peace or solve global warming?”

While I was talking, I took his wand away from him and performed a very handy spell that my father had taught me. The spell allowed a person to move and talk, but they would be trapped inside something similar to an invisible cage that repelled any magic the person inside it might try to cast. Then I took the stunning spell off Potter.

He glared at me. “I didn’t tell Ron and Hermione I was leaving. They’re probably asleep.”

“So no one knows where you are?” I asked, marvelling at how stupid heroes like Potter could be.

Here it was: the answer to my mission.

“As if I would tell you that,” he answered.

“Come on, Potter, if you didn’t tell your friends where you were going, do you really expect me to believe that you that didn’t tell someone else?”

He didn’t answer. After a simple Legilmency spell, I found out that he really hadn’t told anyone.

“Potter, do you know that I have instructions to bring you to the Dark Lord so that he can kill you? I actually expected you to stay home--or wherever it is you stay--but I suppose heroes can’t be expected to have common sense.”

Potter lunged against the wall of his cage, which of course he couldn’t get out of. “I don’t care what you’ve been told to do. You couldn’t kill Dumbledore and you can’t kill me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I just told you I’m not going to kill you. I just have to take you to your best mate.”

I raised my wand, about to have him carted over to the Death Eaters when the first part of his sentence finally registered in my mind. He was right; I hadn’t been able to kill Dumbledore and I could never be as ruthless as the other Death Eaters. Compared to them, I was a saint.

What would the Dark Lord do if I did bring Potter to him? I doubt he would honour me above all others; I would be lucky if he didn’t kill me just for the hell of it.

Potter broke into my thoughts, “Are you going soft, Malfoy. Or did you finally realize that you really aren’t as bad as you thought? When are you going to start being loyal--”

That set me off. “Are you trying to tell me I’m not loyal? You don’t even know what loyalty is. All you know is what the Hufflepuffs will say about not telling on your friend or some crap like that. That isn’t real. That’s for kids. Have you ever had to be loyal to someone you hate? Have you ever kept your mouth shut so that someone wouldn’t get killed? Only a Slytherin knows what loyalty is, Potter. Only a Slytherin knows how to lie even if it kills them.” Then I could feel my smile get twisted, insane. “Do you think I wanted to kill Dumbledore? Do you know how much I wanted to get out of it? But I couldn’t refuse the mission. I had to think of my family, even though I hate my father. How could anyone not hate my father? That’s what Slytherin loyalty is, Potter--doing what you have to do to save someone you hate. That’s more than normal loyalty. I hate my life, and, to tell you the truth, I really want you to kill the Dark Lord, but if I don’t bring you in I’ll die.”

Potter looked confused, as if he was seeing a new person. “Why don’t you just leave if you hate it so much?”

“Didn’t I just give an entire speech about that, Potter?” I said with a smirk.

“I always thought Slytherins save themselves first.”

I shrugged, “Maybe some do, but not me.”

“Dumbledore told you to come to the Order. So why don’t you?”

“Even if I wanted to, I’m always watched,” I answered slowly.

“You aren’t now, are you?”

“Well, unless you are even dumber than I thought, the headquarters would have a Secret Keeper or something to guard it, so that someone like me couldn’t just walk right in,” I answered in a bored voice, figuring I had ages to talk. Bella and Snape were in the opposite direction, and I wasn’t about to let Potter out anytime soon. Plus, I was confused. I really didn’t want to turn Potter over to the Dark Lord, but what choice did I have?

“Go to the Order,” Potter said to me. I was startled to find that I had spoken my last thought aloud.

“You trust me, Potter? Why is that?”

“You’ve had about ten minutes to kill me, and yet I’m still here. You couldn’t kill Dumbledore, so I really see no reason to distrust you. I’ll never like you, but--”

I glared at him. I knew that he was going to say that I had a bad life. The last thing in the world I needed was Potter pity.

Then he said the last thing I expected him to, “I’m the Order’s Secret Keeper.”

I was about to respond but didn’t have time. With a practised ear, I heard Bella’s soft, slow footsteps coming nearer. Potter had heard too, and he looked at me, asking a silent question.

I had a second to choose. Should I give up my loyalty to my family? I knew that I couldn’t fulfill the assignment. I couldn’t turn in Potter, as much as I hated him. So I would die, and a person can’t be loyal when they’re dead.

“Tell me.”

“Number 12, Grimmauld Place.”

I released Potter’s spell, threw him his wand, and we Disapparated just before Bella was able to see us.

I couldn’t believe I had left. I could easily Apparate back to Bella and Snape, not telling them anything about Potter, but what would it do? If I went back, I would be dead in a short period of time.

I don’t know where Potter went. Maybe he Apparated straight into the house to warn them I was coming. Perhaps he went on another one of his stupid missions. Maybe he was plotting to kill me when I opened the door, but at that point I didn’t care. If I went back, I would surely die, and this way I figured I had a good chance of staying alive.

I exhaled the breath that I had been holding. Maybe I would never give up my prejudices, maybe I could never give up my feelings that purebloods were superior, but I knew most of all that I could never go back to where I had been.

I put my hand on the doorknob, and slowly opened the door.

Chapter 2: The New Houseguest

Ginny Weasley was sitting in the kitchen drinking Butterbeer when she heard a hesitant knock. She looked up, surprised that there would be someone coming this late at night. She shrugged, thinking of the frequent quick, furtive Order meetings with only a few members at a time and how rarely they had full meetings anymore. She sighed. Everyone was so busy.

At first she had been resentful that Harry wouldn’t let her go on his search for Horcruxes, but now she took the disappointment in stride and helped her mother keep the headquarters running smoothly.

“Mum,” she called, hearing the knocking again and figuring Molly hadn’t heard, “should I get the door?”

“Yes, please, dear,” Molly answered from another room where she was cleaning up before going to sleep. Now that they were at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, they didn’t have to worry about who might be at the door. Among other things, having a Secret Keeper eased stress.

Ginny, half-asleep, hoisted herself off the bench and thanked the gods that she hadn’t changed into her pajamas yet. She opened the door and found the last person she could have expected standing there.

“Malfoy?” she said, incredulous. Just then she heard a pop and saw Harry standing beside her. She expected the sight of him to send her heart careening in her chest since she hadn’t seen him in about two weeks, but she felt strangely detached.

“Sorry, Malfoy. I got held up by Dobby,” Harry told the boy at the door as Malfoy stepped inside.

He looked uncharacteristically nervous as his eyes took in his surroundings. “So,” he asked, “no one is expecting me?”

“Sorry, no. You and Ginny stay here.” Draco noticed Ginny’s eyes flash when Potter ordered her. Interesting, he thought. The Wonder Couple isn’t as perfect as everyone thinks… Then again, I’d hate to have someone like Potter ordering me around, too.

Harry swept out of the room to assemble a quick meeting during which he would tell them about the new houseguest.

“Come into the kitchen,” Ginny said slightly resentfully as she walked out of the entry. “I’ll get you some Butterbeer.”

Draco nodded his thanks. Ginny sat down next to him and looked at him, as if expecting him to tell her why he was there. He felt uncomfortable and for some reason decided to make small talk. “Life is so different not going back to Hogwarts, isn’t it?”

She sighed. “I wish we could go back. Is the Ministry really dumb enough not to realise that it’s probably the safest place in England? Oh, well, I guess without Dum––” She stopped quickly and blushed crimson. She hadn’t wanted to bring up anything that had to do with what Draco had tried to do last year.

“I didn’t want to kill him,” Draco responded, taking her reference in stride. He knew he would be asked about it, and was more than prepared to answer. “It’s just––I had to try. My family...” he ended vaguely.

Ginny nodded. “He would’ve killed them if you hadn’t agreed, right?”

“Well, yeah...”

“Blood is thicker than water.” Ginny yawned. Her tiredness made her unable to say anything except such a cliché.

Draco was startled. He’d figured that Ginny would yell at him for being a murderer, but she didn’t.

It was as if she read his thoughts when she said, “I can’t hate anyone I understand.” Abruptly she stood up. “Good night, M–Draco.”

“Good night... Ginny.” His nose wrinkled slightly about forcing himself to use her first name, but it didn’t feel that strange, all things considered. He glanced at the clock and was startled to see that it was three o’clock in the morning. He laid his head down to wait for Potter, but soon drifted into sleep.

---

About two hours later Draco felt someone shaking his shoulder. “Malfoy,” he heard a familiar voice say, “Let me show you where you’ll sleep.”

He groggily looked up and saw Potter. Why is he being civil to me? Then he remembered. Potter trusts me now. He smirked at the irony. A Malfoy being trusted and invited to sleep at the “good side’s” headquarters.

Potter led him up the stairs to a fair-sized room and then left without saying anything. Well, he trusts me but he still doesn’t like me, Draco thought as he laid on the bed and quickly fell asleep.

---

Draco came down to breakfast late the next morning as no one had woken him up. Ginny wasn’t half-asleep like she’d been last night, so she noticed that he looked very different than he had three and a half months ago when he left Hogwarts.

His hair was still white blond, but it was cut shorter and Draco had apparently stopped using hair gel. His hair looks really good like that, Ginny thought as she tried not to scold herself for thinking that way about a Slytherin. Also, the set of his face was different. He no longer looked as though he was superior to the rest of the world; he still looked proud, but it didn’t seem like an insult. His silvery eyes were as serious as they had been throughout his sixth year, yet they looked less worried and held more hope within them. Ginny thought he looked much better than he ever had before, then realised she had been staring for about a minute and quickly looked toward Harry.

Draco noticed her intense scrutiny but didn’t make a snide comment about it. He thought that she looked different too. Her deep brown eyes were serious and yet still held the fire he was beginning to admire. She looks nice, he couldn’t help thinking, remembering how even Blaise Zabini had called her beautiful. Her red hair reached her waist, and her figure was still curvy despite her recent weight loss.

His thoughts changed abruptly as he looked around the room. It appeared that everyone had lost weight, not just Ginny. Worry, he figured, was the cause of it.

He realised that everyone had a reason to worry now–especially him. What would the Dark Lord do when he found out that Draco had run away when trying to fulfill his orders to find Harry Potter?

Well, I found him, Draco thought with a smirk. I just didn’t bring him back.

Beneath Draco’s smug thoughts were feelings of worry and confusion, yet at the same time a feeling that nothing—not even being killed—was worse than being a Death Eater.

---

Bellatrix Lestrange and Severus Snape searched everywhere for Draco. At first Snape had thought that Bella was crazy when she had first told him that she had heard the sound of someone Apparating, but now that seemed to be the only plausible explanation.

“What are we going to tell him?” Bella screeched when he finally agreed Draco must have left.

Snape, who so rarely got upset, was at a loss for words as his thoughts flew by wildly, trying to find any reasonable explanation: What can we tell him? We can’t tell the truth! Draco – damn him – this is all his fault! He must have decided he can’t take being a Death Eater and run off. Does he actually think that will work? The Dark Lord will know where he is. He always knows. And when he figures it out, I know what I’ll have to do: I’ll have to go pretend to be a spy for the Order again. I can tell he was going to make me do that soon anyw–

His rapid thoughts were interrupted by Bella’s incoherent screeching. He rolled his eyes.

“Bella,” he said, grasping her shoulders and shaking her a bit, “get a grip. Do you want the Dark Lord to know? We could make up a lie...” He trailed off. He could lie to the Dark Lord, but he knew Bella couldn’t. She was very good at Occlumency most of the time, but when it actually mattered – when she actually stood before the Dark Lord! – she couldn’t lie or block her thoughts. Damn it, he thought. It’s hopeless.

“You know I can’t lie to my Lord,” she told him, embarrassed yet defiant as if daring him to make a comment about it.

He knew. So, really there was only one answer: the truth.

How he hated that answer!

---

Once they walked into the Riddle House, which was once again deemed the perfect hiding place by the Dark Lord after numerous charms were placed, Bella threw herself down at the Dark Lord’s feet saying over and over, “Please forgive him, please forgive him!”

The Dark Lord looked down, disgusted. “Get up and tell me what happened.”

Snape took a step forward, prepared to speak for both of them. The Dark Lord’s lip curled. “Not you, Severus. You can lie.”

Bella looked up and stated speaking in a rushed, but clear voice, “We were at Godric’s Hollow but didn’t find anything, so we decided to separate. When I came back to look for Draco he wasn’t there, but I thought I heard the sound of someone Disapparating. We looked for ages, but couldn’t find Draco anywhere, so we think he must have–”

“The youngest Malfoy decided to abandon me, I see. Well, he’ll have to be killed of course. I only wish I could see it.”

“See it, my Lord? Aren’t you going to perform it?” asked Snape, fully knowing what the answer would be.”

“No,” the Dark Lord answered coldly, emotionlessly. “You are.”

Bella squeaked, then regained her composure. “But he’s by nephew, sir...”

“Then have Severus do it. It’s your mission. Find a way. Bella, leave. Severus, stay here—I wish to speak with you.”

Bella backed out of the room, bowing as she did so. Snape dreaded what he knew he would hear.

“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you? Well, you know what I want from you. Make the Order members trust you again.”

“My Lord, no... I cannot. I killed Dumbledore; Potter knows that. They’ll kill me!”

“I don’t care how you do it. Don’t talk to me anymore. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so obvious if you wanted to keep their trust! Without being a spy, you are of little use to me.”

“Sir, my loyalty has been unwavering, and I could try to find Draco another way.”

“No,” the Dark Lord answered in a flat, cold voice, “this is what I ask. Leave.”

Snape walked out the door, forgetting to bow or even acknowledge the Dark Lord because he was so lost in his thoughts.

Seeing this, the Dark Lord promptly Crucioed him for forgetting his manners

---

A week later, Snape had comprised a letter that he doubted would ever work to regain the Order’s trust, but he figured he might as well try. He had no other plans, and he had even asked Bella in his desperation. Of course, she knew even less than he did about such matters, so he decided to send the letter.


Dear Minerva,

You must be wondering why I’m writing, and I can’t blame you if you decide to set fire to this letter before you finish reading. I have to explain to you why I killed Albus Dumbledore.

I have been attempting to write this letter for weeks, which is why it is so belated.

I told Albus about the Unbreakable Vow, and he told me that I would have to follow through on my orders eventually – that my being a spy to the Order would be just as valuable as he had been. I, of course, disagreed, but in turn he made me take an Unbreakable Vow saying that I would kill him in the event that Draco failed. I cannot tell you how I hated to do this.

Even though it pained me to do so, I followed through with his orders even as I knew it would take a long time – or be impossible – to convince you of my innocence. I’m still not sure that I have a hope of convincing you now. Nevertheless, I’ll await your letter. Please discuss this with the other Order members and owl me whenever it is convenient.

With highest regards,
Severus Snape


His face was disgusted as he reread the letter. He hated that it appeared he was grovelling. Then again, perhaps he was. This whole thing is a lie, he thought. Then he tried to look at the letter from a detached point of view. But, I suppose it could happen.

He found no errors that would convince others of his guilt, and smirked as he imagined the emergency Order meeting that would immediately take place. He thought of Potter’s disbelief and how he was sure that Mad-Eye and Potter would be the two most outspoken against him. Still, he would try. He didn’t want to rejoin the Order any more than Potter wanted to see him again, but he had to.

Suddenly, he wondered if Draco could possibly be at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He immediately dismissed the thought. Potter wouldn’t trust Draco any more than he would trust me, Snape decided.

Chapter 3: A Meeting and a Conversation

It was about two days after Snape had sent the letter, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, Malfoy, and Ginny were in the kitchen eating breakfast when McGonagall walked in; the only evidence of her inner turmoil was the harsh set of her face.

“Potter,” she barked, “I need to speak with you.”

Harry stood up, confused, and walked out after her. As soon as he was out of the kitchen’s hearing distance, she wordlessly handed him the letter.

As he read the letter, his face became cold and set. He didn’t believe believe anything Snape said for a moment.

“No,” he said, attempting to speak his confused thoughts, “there’s no way—he couldn’t have—he’s a liar—do you actually believe him?”

“Well, I think we should have a meeting like he—” She stopped abruptly when she saw the look on his face. She got angry. Hadn’t he trusted Malfoy? Was trusting Snape that much different?

“Don’t look at me like that, Potter—you have to admit everything he says makes sense.”

“Well,” Harry conceded, “most of it could happen... Except for his excuse for not writing before now. That’s a lame excuse if I’ve ever heard one...” He trailed off as he thought of something. “We could ask Malfoy. He would know if Snape were telling the truth!”

“Potter, you aren’t thinking straight! How can you trust him?”

“You’re the one who’s talking about trusting Snape! Don’t you think it’s weird that two days after Malfoy comes, Snape writes a letter? Snape probably wants to kill him!”

“How would Snape know Malfoy’s here?” McGonagall asked as she regained her composure.

He thought about that. That at least was true: it wasn’t as if Malfoy had owled the Death Eaters to tell them his location. “Still,” he said slowly as he tried to figure the whole thing out, “do you really want to invite him into where Malfoy is?”

“I’m not going to invite him here,” McGonagall said, fed up with this whole conversation. “I just want to have a meeting.”

Harry sighed. “Well, I would like the have a full meeting again...”

---

Draco couldn’t believe Potter invited him to come to the meeting.

He still hasn’t told me what it’s about, though, he thought.

Then he heard Ginny storming about. She’d been so angry when Potter told her she couldn’t come.

Draco had said to her in his blunt way, “I can’t believe I’m allowed to go and you’re not.”

She smiled shakily at him, still very angry Potter had started to act like a father—ordering her around and everything. “Thanks, Draco.”

He wondered what she was saying thanks for. Then he knew: for understanding.

The meeting was held in the large kitchen. Though Draco had eaten in the kitchen for every meal since he got there, she thought that it looked larger than ever before. He shrugged, figuring it had been magically enhanced. He sat down next to Potter, where he had been told to. Although Potter was civil to him now, he would still have rather sat by anyone else.

His opinion changed when Mad-Eye Moody took it upon himself to sit next to the former Death Eater.

Instantly, Draco tensed. He had never forgotten how Moody had turned him into a ferret fourth year. He also knew Moody would never trust a former Death Eater. He sighed and knew that Potter was a much better person to sit by than Moody.

He was right to be nervous. Moody never took his magical eye off him, as if expecting him to Avada Kedavra everyone in sight.

Gods, Draco thought, if Potter—the guy who has hated and distrusted me for over six years—trusts me now, you would think Moody could accept it too.

As a Slytherin, he hated being watched or stared at for extended periods of time. He barely noticed the dozen or so other people who filtered into kitchen and the surprised looks they gave him. They had all heard that Draco was living at the headquarters, but none of them had been able to believe it until they actually saw him.

When McGonagall saw that everyone was present, she told them about the letter.

Draco listened with rapt attention, his knuckles and face growing more and more white as the letter came to a close. He managed to contain his emotions, as most Syltherins would, but everyone there could easily tell his opinion from the set of his face.

Potter spoke next about how he didn’t believe Snape and told his personal experience of seeing Dumbledore killed, which only about a quarter of them had heard.

After Potter finished, he beaconed Draco to tell his story.

Draco made his back as straight as possible, removed all trace of expression from his face, and forced his mind off Moody’s magical eye.

“The summer before sixth year, my father was sent to Azkaban. The Dark Lord, probably to punish him through me, made me a Death Eater and gave me an impossible task: to kill Dumbledore.” His story continued for a few minutes.

He tried to conclude, but was unsure how. “I knew it was impossible to kill Dumbledore when I started. But I had to be loyal to my family. Oh, I now what you’re probably all thinking: that I abandoned them to come here. But, the way I saw it, I couldn’t be loyal when I’m dead. And for the same reason I couldn’t kill Dumbledore, I also couldn’t kill Potter.”

He sat back abruptly. Everyone was silent. He thought he had made a good impression; he thought he had made them see things his way.

He was right. People were looking at each other and nodding. They believed him. Inexplicably, this was very important to the Slytherin. He had never before cared what others thought, but it now seemed of vital importance to him.

Potter, who was now the unofficial head of the Order (mainly because everyone knew that he was on a secret mission that was the key to winning the war, even though they had no idea of the specifics), refused to allow Snape anywhere near them. McGonagall said that she was going to correspond with Snape for a while, so really nothing at all was decided.

Later, after the meeting, Harry said that he, Ron, and Hermione were going to leave again on a so-called mission. Draco had no idea what he was talking about, but he saw that Ron and Hermione’s faces had both become hard and set, so he guessed it wasn’t exactly going to be fun.

He glanced at Ginny and saw her face. She was worried. He could tell. If he were Potter, he would have gone and comforted her even if he had broken up with her.

Gods, Draco thought. Potter sure is a jerk to Ginny. His thoughts broke off as he wondered why he actually cared. His thoughts ran on as he was still unable to realise the truth. Well, she really is a good kid. She’s nice, but not goody-goody. She deserves someone better than Potter.

He shrugged, warning himself not to get attached to anyone, and went up to his room.

---

About a week later, Draco, Ginny, Moody, and Molly eating dinner. The rest of the Weasley family was at work, and it was impossible to tell where anyone else could be at any given time.

“This will be a cozy dinner,” Molly said cheerfully while heaping their plates with spaghetti and salad.

Moody sighed. “There wasn’t an assignment for me tonight, so I guess I’ll make the best of it. This looks good, Molly.”

Molly, Ginny, and Mad-Eye chatted for a few minutes, not saying anything too important; Mrs. Weasley still couldn’t bring herself to trust Draco, and, of course, Moody was still too aware that there was a former Death Eater among them and barely kept his magical eye off Draco for a moment.

Draco couldn’t take it a second longer. Anytime Moody was in the house he felt like he was being watched, because he obviously was.

He got up and was about to storm out when he stopped and suddenly knew that to fit in he had to make an attempt to be polite. “Thank you,” he said curtly as he walked out, unable to be any more curteous.

“Now look what you did, Moody,” Draco heard Ginny say as he closed the door.

Draco went up to his room and laid down and stared up at the ceiling. He could stand everyone who had come into the house in the last week except Moody. He and Mundungus Fletcher had gotten along the best. Perhaps that was because Dung was such a Slytherin and was the one person who Draco could fully understand. They would laugh and scheme things that would never happen, but anytime Moody came in, they both shut up. That was another thing they shared—a fear and suspicion of Moody.

Just then his thoughts were interrupted as Ginny knocked at his door and poked her head in.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

He nodded and sat up, his back resting on the headboard.

“I’m sorry about Mad-Eye. You know how he is.”

“Ginny,” for some reason Draco never had any problems calling the youngest Weasley by her first name, “I just hate how he stares at me. I mean, even Potter trusts me, and we all would have agreed that trusting a Malfoy would have been impossible for Potter a week and a half ago.”

“Draco, can’t you call Harry by his first name?” Ginny asked with a pained expression on her face.

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” Draco asked, knowing she was trying to tell him something.

“How can I not be? I mean, I know he broke up with me and everything, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring about him.”

“Are you in love with him?” Draco had no idea what possibly possessed him to ask that question.

Ginny, in turn, had no idea what to answer. She wanted to say that she did, and yet at the same time knew that she couldn’t truthfully say it. She shock her head slowly. “I want to think I’m in love with him, but I have a feeling it might just be a crush.”

Draco nodded slowly. “I can’t say that I know what you mean, since I’ve honestly never had a serious girlfriend.” He saw her open her mouth and anticipated what she was going to say and dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “I don’t like Pansy and never have. She was just... there, if you know what I mean.”

Ginny nodded. “Harry seems so perfect, but really he isn’t. It annoys me how he always tries to be the best at everything. And why did he have to break up with me, I mean all he said was—”

“He told you he didn’t want you to get hurt, didn’t he?”

Ginny looked over at him in surprise. “How did you know?”

Draco smirked, but not in a mean way. “I know Potter, Ginny, and I think you can do better... But I guess I might be prejudiced.”

She laughed. The sound made him smile and put him infinitely better mood. “Just a little bit.”

Then Mrs. Weasley knocked at the door. She looked in and saw Draco and Ginny sitting facing each other at opposite sides of the bed and sighed inwardly. She had a feeling she knew what was happening and didn’t like it... Harry was such a nice boy, after all...

“Ginny, M—Draco,” Molly had difficulty calling Draco by his first name, “Harry, Ron and Hermione are back.”

Molly closed the door behind her and went downstairs to reheat dinner.

Ginny got up and looked back at Draco. “Thanks for listening. I hope you don’t mind, but I might be talking to you a lot since Harry, Ron and Hermione are always gone.”

Draco didn’t answer the request. They both knew that they would be talking regularly. “And I’m sorry Harry’s too stupid to realise what he’s missing.” Draco found himself saying the second thing in their conversation that he hadn’t meant to say. Ginny was just... Ginny. A beautiful, intelligent girl who was part of a family that he could no longer think of as blood traitors.

Ginny’s smile revealed her inner turmoil. She no longer knew what she felt. She left, softly saying good night to the man she had just left behind.

Draco resumed the position he had been in before Ginny walked in, this time confused instead of angry.

Later that evening, Draco crept down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on spying, but, much to his surprise, he was staying in the same room Fred and George had used and he found a cache of Extendable Ears in the desk. Being a Malfoy, he’d never been allowed to purchase from the twins, but being Draco, he always had anyway. He liked quality—regardless of who did the selling—and Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was the best.

So he set the device at the bottom of the door, not really expecting to hear anything. He thought that the four of them might have gone into the kitchen. But instead, he heard Harry and Ginny talking. Alone.

His breath hitched. He knew why he had a problem with the two of them together, but he wasn’t about to admit it—even to himself.

“Ginny,” he heard Potter say, “I’ve told you I’m sorry. I did what I thought I had to. But now I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?” Draco smirked. He could tell Ginny made her voice innocent on purpose, as though she were trying to buy time to think.

“I want to go out with you again—if you want to, of course.”

Draco rolled his eyes even as they narrowed. Now Potter wanted her opinion.

He could hear the scepticism in her voice. “What made you change your mind?”

“I’m afraid, Ginny.” Draco rolled his eyes again. Gods, he thought. Here comes the sob story. “Everything is so different now. I know it’s only been a few months, but now it seems so likely that I could—could... die. And, I love you.” The last sentence was long and firm; Draco knew instinctively that he was telling the truth.

“Oh, Harry. I...” she trailed off. Draco wondered why. Instantly he realized he shouldn’t be listening—but at the same time he couldn’t stop.

“You what?” Potter said, his voice eager, even as it was soft, almost pleading. Unbidden came a feeling of pity, which Draco shook off as quickly as it had come.

Ginny was silent. Draco’s mind went back to their conversation when Ginny had said she didn’t love Potter. Had she changed her mind? He hoped... that she would make the right choice. After all, it really wasn’t any concern of his. Or, at least that was what he told himself.

“Ginny... Don’t you feel the same?” There was sadness now in his voice, and maybe a bit of anger.

However, Ginny’s voice remained calm and soft, impossible to read. “Harry, I don’t know. A month ago...”

“What?” There was only a hint of sadness now. Potter was angry, bitter.

Ginny cut him off. Her voice wasn’t soft anymore. She was fighting fire with fire. “A month ago I would have loved to hear you say that. Now,” she was softer again, as if trying to make Potter’s pain lessen, “I can’t. I don’t love you like—” The words were cut off abruptly. Can it be? Draco thought. Then he shook his head. No, it can’t. She continued rapidly, “I hate how you order me around.”

“I’m sorry,” Potter said, ashamed. “It’s my fault. I just got so used to being able to order everyone around that... Well, I think if we just went out again...?” He trailed off, a question in his voice.

“I don’t know, Har—”

Her voice cut off. Draco was confused for a moment, then heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing. Her yanked the Extendable Ear out from under the door and ran swiftly but silently up to his room, his heart beating madly.

Damn Potter! Damn him! He doesn’t deserve her!

His thoughts continued in the same vein until he fell into a fitful sleep.

---

Ginny’s eyes widened as Harry cut off her words with his kiss. She didn’t pull back immediately, since she had kissed him before. For some reason kissing him was different now. She used to want to pull him out of Ron’s view and snog him madly, but now she would have rather been reading, sleeping, talking to... anyone, anyone at all, except Harry.

The kiss was pleasant, of course, as most kisses are. It just wasn’t... special. Come to think of it, none of the guys she’d ever dated—including Harry—had felt very special to her. Then she realized her mind was wandering. Inwardly she shrugged, knowing what she would say.

She allowed him to break off the kiss. He gazed at her fondly. She opened her mouth to speak, but as he saw her expression he said, “Ginny, we’re the perfect couple. Please—what’s wrong?”

She looked at him sadly.

“Is there someone else?” he asked harshly, abruptly.

“I’m not dating anyone else,” she sighed, avoiding the question.

“Do you—”

“Just give me time to think, okay?” She didn’t need time to think about her answer, but she had to figure out how to tell him.

“Sure... Ron, Hermione and I are going to be leaving again soon. Probably in a couple days. Tell me when we get back. Will you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good.”

“I’m going to sleep. Good night, Harry.”

She turned around, but he grabbed her arm lightly, drawing her attention back to him as he said with enviable sincerity, “I do love you.”

She nodded. She knew.

Ginny fell asleep, wondering how exactly she would break the news to Harry and—well, everyone.

---

“My Lord, they don’t trust me,” Snape told the Dark Lord.

“Of course they don’t. All you did was write a letter. You haven’t even tried,” he responded.

“I don’t know how to make them trust me. And Bella and I have no idea where Draco is.”

“So you come to me for answers. How do you expect me to know? It’s your job—your duty to me.”

“You don’t have any idea—not even a hunch?”

“How dare you question me? Crucio!”

Once he lazily lifted the curse and Snape stopped writhing on the ground, the Dark Lord said, “Besides, you already know where the Order headquarters are. What’s to stop you from going now?”

“Now? To—right—how—They’ll kill me!”

“Oh well. You have my orders. Go.”

Snape remembered to bow as he left, the pain of the Cruciatus curse still agonizing.

He Apparated right away, since he was well aware that the Dark Lord would know if he was still near him. At the door, he hesitated. They would kill him if he went in. Then again, he thought sardonically, maybe that would be for the best.

Harry was the one who heard the door. Since only members of the Order (or other such trusted people) knew the location, he shrugged and got up, setting his butterbeer aside. Only he and Hermione were awake. Ron fell asleep on the couch when they were talking, and Hermione had since grabbed her book and was reading. She looked up.

“I’ll get it,” he said, wondering who would call at such an hour.

She nodded, returning to her book. He walked to the door and opened it, his eyes widening as he saw who stood there. “Snape!” he yelled, wrenching his wand from his pocket. As he lifted it, Snape silently disarmed him.

“I’m not going to attack you. I just want to talk to you—to everyone.”

“Have you seen the time? There’s no one here. Damn it, give me back my wand!”

“I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. In the morning. Tell everyone.” He tossed Harry his wand and Apparated away.

---

Draco woke up, feeling like he had slept no more than an hour. He rolled out of bed to take a shower, thinking that it might wake him up.

In the kitchen, Ginny, Potter, Granger, and the youngest male Weasley were sitting at the table. No adults, he thought sarcastically. Maybe we should throw a party.

He nodded at the trio and smiled slightly at Ginny. That was all he could force himself to do under the circumstances. He fingered the Extendable Ear in his pocket, wishing he and Ginny were alone so they could talk. He pushed the thought from his mind as he listened to the four of them talk. Actually, it appeared that Potter was telling a story.

“Then, he took my wand and told me that he would be back the day after tomorrow—well, now it’s just tomorrow. Snape told me to tell everyone, then gave me my wand back and Apparated.”

“That’s all?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah, that’s all. What a bastard. I almost killed him with my bare hands when he disarmed me.”

Ginny’s hand flew to her mouth. The rest of them didn’t notice anything, but her eyes were twinkling madly, and Draco knew she was trying not to laugh at the thought of Potter getting beaten senseless by Snape. Did Potter think he was super strong now?

Harry turned to Draco. “You’ll have to stay in the attic while he’s here. I still don’t trust him and don’t want him knowing you’re here.”

“You fear for my safety, Potter? How sweet.”

“If you want to be killed, then, by all means, come to the meeting.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll stay in the attic. I really wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon.” Then he stood abruptly, no longer hungry. “Ginny, can I talk to you?”

She stared at Draco, her eyes questioning. Then she shrugged and led the way to the library on the second floor.

Draco looked around, wondering what in the world he was going to say. He decided to take the direct approach. He pulled the Extendable Ear out of his pocket and set it on the coffee table. She glanced at him, at the Ear, and back at him.

“I found it in my room.” She nodded, realizing that he was in the room Fred and George had been in. “So I decided to listen to whatever you, Potter, Granger, and Weasley were saying. Well, you and Potter, anyway.”

“You were spying?” she asked, her eyes snapping.

“I thought there would be the four of you, but two’s enough, I guess.”

She flew from her chair. He caught up with her before she got to the door. She slapped his hand away. “So, I guess you heard us kiss? When did you decide to stop invading my privacy?”

His hand ruffled his hair in a way even Potter would be proud of. “That was when I left. Damn it, Ginny, I thought you said—”

“Well, just so you know, we’re not back together. I told him I would think about it. Well, I actually know what I’m going to say, but whatever.” She looked him straight in the eye, her face just inches away from his. “And, Draco Malfoy, I want you to promise that you won’t invade my privacy like that again.”

It took all his willpower to not lower his face those mere inches. He caught himself just in time.

She stormed out, her red hair flying. When she was gone, he said quietly after her, “I heard enough to know you’ll never care for me.”

---

Later that day, the trio was off to gods-know-where, and Ginny still wasn’t speaking to Draco. He went back into the library, where she sat on the sofa reading a book. She didn’t hear his soft footsteps until he was right in front of her. Her eyes blazed and she moved to stand. He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder, halting her movement.

“We have to talk. I don’t want you to be angry at me. You’re—you’re the only one I can talk to here.”

She looked into his face, and she must have seen that he was sincere, so she sighed and settled back into the sofa. “Fine. Talk. I'm listening.”

“Ginny, I’m sorry and I swear I won’t invade your privacy again. I was such a jerk to do something like that and I hope you’ll forgive me.” He looked up at her through his thick, blond eyelashes. She couldn’t help but smile at his innocent-looking expression.

Trying to make her own expression more severe even while failing miserably, she said, “It’s okay, Draco. I guess I’ll forgive you.” I can’t believe I’m giving in this easily, she thought. He’d better be serious. If only he wasn’t so... well, that’s completely beside the point.

“So, honestly, what are you going to say?” Draco asked, leaning back in the chair.

“What, do you want me to practise on you or something?” Her voice was incredulous.

“Sure, why not? I mean, you are going to reject him, aren’t you?” He made sure to control his expression. It was difficult, but he managed. Except for a fleeting glimpse of uncertainty strangely mixed with happiness, she saw nothing. Even that glimpse she shook off as being within her own vivid imagination.

Red eyebrows raised. “You could tell from listening to only part of our conversation?”

“Gryffindors are easy to read,” he said with a smirk. “It wasn’t hard to tell you wanted to turn him down right there.”

She tossed her hair defiantly as she looked away. Slowly she brought her gaze back as she hesitantly asked a question. “Was it that obvious?”

“Not to him.”

She smiled slightly. “All right, then. I’ll ‘practise’ on you.”

He smirked again as he went to sit beside her on the couch. “Fine, pretend I’m Potter—although I imagine it’ll be hard. Would you like me to draw a scar on my forehead?” His demeanour changed as he pretended. His hand flew to his forehead as he grimaced in pain and said in a high-pitched voice, “Oh gods, my head! Won’t someone please stop the pain? I have to go save the world at ten o’clock and I fear I’ll be late!”

Ginny pushed him as she clamped a hand over her mouth. When she removed her hand, her face was stern, even as her eyes twinkled madly. “Don’t talk about him like that. Besides, just act like yourself.”

“Fine. Gods, I can’t believe we’re doing something so damn clichéd.”

She grinned. “Let’s start.”

He shrugged, his eyes gazing intently into hers. For some reason looking into his grey eyes was a lot more unsettling than into Harry’s brilliant green ones. She looked away.

“Ginny, you have to look him in the eyes.”

“I know...” She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for a terrible ordeal. “Draco—Harry, I mean—I know that you l—love... That you are in l—love... That you want to go ou— That you are—are...” She shook her head, unable to continue. Draco opened his mouth to say something but she shook her head again, sharply this time, halting his words. “Let me start again. Um, I’m sorry but I don’t l—I don’t want to— Damn it, this is impossible,” she said as she stood abruptly.

Draco stood too, and tilted her face, glancing into her eyes as if searching for something. She looked back into his, until she had to look away again because of the intensity of his expression.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he said quietly, as if not wanting to hear the answer.

“No! I just can’t use you to ‘practise.’”

“Why not?”

She shook her head, unable to explain even as she was uncomfortably aware that his hand was still underneath her chin. She lightly removed it.

“Draco?” she asked hesitantly, as if willing herself to speak. “Would you mind... leaving for a while? I need to think.”

His eyes, stormy now, once more searched her brown ones. He again had to force himself not to close the gap between their lips, and instead he said in a tender tone that no one had ever heard from him, “Sure, Ginny. Come get me if you need me.”

She nodded as he walked away, only throwing one more glance at her as he closed the door behind him. This time his expression was sad and haunted, as if he had lost the thing he desired most in the world.