A/N:Well, I actually wrote a serious story. Surprised?I know it starts off kind of weird, but it's only going to get weirder! Sorry!
He was alone in the hallway, forsaken, lost and frozen in the endless hours of time. A light flickered fitfully on the long expanse of the wall, its whining light mimicking the soft wails of a child left alone for too long. It did nothing to illuminate the small hallway, merely accenting the impossible darkness that lurked in every corner. Draco nervously glanced into the shaded alcoves, thinking he saw the flash of spying eyes watching from within the curtain of inky blackness, but there was nothing there. There was nothing anywhere but the empty dark of misery.
A tremor ran through his hand, racing up his shoulder and back down his back. It wrung a whimpered cry from his pale lips as his entire body was overcome with uncontrollable spasms that whispered through him, reminding him of the endless fear that he carried with him. Always, there was that uncertainty, the knowledge that at any moment his control could be wrenched from him by the unknown tremors, leaving him helpless, weak, and, as always, alone.
He shivered as the spasms faded and forced himself out of the helpless half-crouch he had fallen into at the first touch of the tremors. Only a little further and he would finally face them, those hated individuals that he had always called enemies but was now forced to consider friends. He almost wanted to curse Severus and blame him for the dilemma he was in, but he knew the other man only wanted him to be safe. Despite his many misgivings, Draco realized the man wouldn't send him to a place where he would be hurt. If he said the Order would accept him, then he would just have to trust that they would.
The door stood dark and tall at the end of the poorly-lit hall, forbidding and unwelcoming. It made Draco want to turn away and run back into Severus's arms, made him want to tell him that it was too hard, too frightening, and he only wanted to stay with the older wizard. But Draco knew he wouldn't, knew his pride would never let him back away from a confrontation.
He slowly began to walk towards the door, occasionally glancing behind him in search of invisible enemies. He knew that he couldn't afford to let down his wary vigilance, especially in this place. The Order of the Phoenix would use any excuse to kill him.
Finally, Draco stood in front of his destination, hesitating before the imposing doorway. The solid oak door was the only one in this particular wing of the hall, and even the portraits had been removed from the wall. The dark, stone walls contrasted sharply with the soft, gold carpet, a truly wretched example of decorating, but Draco knew the reasoning behind it. The walls helped prevent eavesdropping, and the carpet reduced echoes. It was a wise, if unattractive, design.
Sighing softly, he ran a hand through his hair, checking to make sure it remained impeccable, and placed his hand on the door, easily pushing it open. He quickly stepped through it as it swung open, right into a room full of wizards and witches. A large coffee table stood in the center, surrounded by chairs that were filled with the Order's members.
Everyone was looking at him, staring, and Draco knew why. What a sight he must be, still impeccably dressed and groomed, but his hair now stark white where it once was blonde, and his formally bright, calculating eyes warily staring out at the world from within deep hollows and bruised lids. He knew he looked ill, weak, fragile, and, in truth, he was all of those things. But, he wouldn't let them know that. Ever. The risk would always be too great, so he carefully kept his composure, not allowing his nervousness to show. By all rights, this was the one place he should never be, where surely no one would trust him. But Severus had invited him. Severus had trusted him.
Heads turned to face him as he entered, fear, distrust, and astonishment crossing all their faces. Several even jumped up in outrage, withdrawing their wands in preparation for Draco's supposedly inevitable attack. In the forefront was Harry Potter, his face curled into an angry snarl as he began to speak the words of a curse.
Before he could finish, Draco held his wand in front of him and, cursing himself the whole time, let it drop to the floor. The soft carpet absorbed the noise, but everyone still noticed. Potter's face had donned a look of confusion to replace his anger, and Draco found it almost comical. He was careful not to laugh, certain that would make this situation worse.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy!" Potter spat angrily, snatching the wand from the floor.
Behind Potter stood Granger and Weasley, both of their faces pale with barely controlled anger, and, Draco thought, a little fear. Having a Death Eater in their midst was probably something they had never expected to happen in their carefully concealed headquarters.
"Don't worry, Potter. I have an invitation," Draco said snidely, moving to pull a piece of paper from the pockets of his robe.
"Don't move!" Weasley yelled, pointing his wand threateningly.
Draco stilled his movements with a regretful sigh. This was turning out to be much more difficult than he had planned. As he returned his hands to his sides, he desperately wished they would stop their incessant shaking. The faint tremors that ran through his arms were disturbing, their unknown cause frightening Draco more than he liked. He just prayed and hoped that no one would notice. Among the Death Eaters, weakness was just that: weakness, and they all knew how Voldemort reacted to any flaw. Draco didn't really expect any better treatment from his enemies.
Potter stepped towards Draco, his wand still poised for any sudden movements from the Slytherin. Draco kept carefully still, slowing his breathing and trying to control the tremors as best he could, while Potter hastily pulled the paper from his pocket and began to back away.
The black-haired Gryffindor stared down at the paper for several long moments, reading and rereading. His green eyes had darkened, surprised by what he found on the crumpled and burnt piece of parchment.
Turning, he handed the paper to Remus Lupin, who played a leading role in the Order while Dumbledore was away. The werewolf read the paper, occasionally glancing up at Draco with curious eyes. When he was done, he carefully placed the note down.
"This note proves nothing," he said simply.
Draco glared at him angrily, taking a step forward before he remembered his situation. Glancing at the hostile faces around him, he took a deep breath and tried to calm his pounding heart. He had known this would be difficult. He would not let it stop him.
"It's in Severus's handwriting, is it not?" Draco pointed out.
Lupin raised an eyebrow at the familiarity with which Draco addressed Professor Snape, but did not comment on it. Instead, he picked up the note, glancing over it again.
"It's in his hand, yes, but I'm sure you are more than capable of such a forgery. Not to mention, there's always the possibility that you forced him to write this! We have no reason to trust you, Draco Malfoy, and no reason to help you, either," Lupin responded, his expression tinged with the violence Draco knew he tried so hard to hide and control.
Draco glanced up at his former professor through soft eyelashes, the angle concealing the hatred within them. He hadn't come here to win friendship but in search of sanctuary. However, he knew his continuing animosity would only worsen matters.
"You're going to have to start believing me, I'm afraid," Draco said with a tiny smirk.
He took a step toward Potter, startling the other man, who almost stepped back. However, the Gryffindor caught himself and held his ground, waiting for Draco to reveal his purpose.
"Have your precious Boy-Who-Lived search my right pocket. Hopefully, there you'll find something to ease your fears," he hissed.
Potter glanced back at Lupin, plainly uncertain on how best to proceed. The older man nodded toward Draco, indicating the young wizard should do as his enemy suggested.
Though obviously still questioning the wiseness of the whole situation, Potter took a hesitant step towards Draco, reaching to dig once more into the pale wizard's pocket. As his fingers reached the bottom of the pocket, they closed around a small flask wrapped in tissue paper.
As he hurriedly pulled his hand free, Draco grabbed his wrist, thin pale fingers cutting into Potter's skin. The taller man's wand, freed when Potter's constricting hands loosened in shock, fell with a harsh clatter onto the dark wood table beside the Gryffindor. Draco watched as the wand slid across the table, falling off the edge and landing to lie alone in a dark corner.
A sharp smile graced Draco's face as he turned back to look at Potter.
"Don't get used to having your hands on me, Potter," Draco whispered bitingly.
He released the other man's hand, still smiling as the Gryffindor backed away. He looked at the waiting Order, whose wands were all poised at the ready, obviously unsettled by the Slytherin's swift movements. He knew that what he had done hadn't been wise, but it had made him feel unbelievably better, and Draco Malfoy lived his life to please himself. No one else.
Potter rubbed at his hand, glaring at Draco. On the smooth skin, small angry red crescents curved up like smiles, mocking him. Draco felt inordinately pleased with himself.
Watching as Lupin accepted the small flask, Draco didn't feel as confident. He felt afraid. If they didn't believe it to be from Severus... Draco knew what would happen to him. He hadn't thought he was truly afraid of death, but even Malfoys could occasionally make mistakes. This bottle was his last chance of salvation from the cold hands of death. It was his hope.
Draco clutched his hands together as the shaking worsened. The tremors had begun to spread over the last few days, moving up his arms and into his body. What had begun as a few quivering fingers had expanded until it affected every part of his arms, causing uncontrollable spasms to blossom throughout him.
As Draco tried to control his rebelling body, Lupin examined the flask, removing it from its tissue confines. The white label stood out starkly against the deep, reflecting brown of the glass, spider-like handwriting covering the pale paper.
"Did Snape give that to you?"Granger asked, her eyes wide and her voice slightly breathless.
Draco nodded, his eyes still fastened on Lupin.
"It's what you've been waiting for. A potion so complex that only a few people know how to make it. Or, in this case, one person," Draco said, his eyes dark.
The entire hall was staring at the flask now, their expressions all tinged with fresh hope. Draco wondered how he should break the bad news, if indeed, he should tell them at all. They would find out in time anyway.
But Draco knew better. Severus had told him how important this was, and the younger wizard was all too aware of the number of lives resting upon the small bottle. He would share what little he knew, the small bits of information that Severus had forced his mind to remember. He remembered those long hours, going over and over the arcane manuscript until it was embedded so deeply in his mind that he feared it would never leave. He remembered the desperation hidden in those darkly intense eyes.
"It's not the sparkling ray of hope you think it is. There were some flaws in its use that Severus and I weren't aware of until a few days ago," Draco added, his smile bleak and bitter.
Lupin's head shot up immediately, though his hands never relaxed on the small bottle. He placed it down carefully, his eyes still locked on Draco. All around the room, the young Slytherin could feel people tensing, unnerved by his casual words.
"How much do you know?" one of the Weasley twins asked, his voice low and rough from anger.
Draco let himself relax, running a hand through his spider-silk soft hair and smiling at the smooth feel of the pale as winter strands. The tremors in his hands barely bothered him as he let his eyes sweep across the gathered witches and wizards.
"I know that this potion allows two people to bond together in a union that gives all the injuries of the lead member to the weaker. I know that it was used long ago for last chance duels, where one of the bonded acted as a shield for the other, blocking even the most powerful of curses from hitting the second member," he paused for effect, smiling. "I know it's your only chance to beat Voldemort."
Silence greeted his words, the lack of noise echoing throughout the room. Draco merely waited, knowing they had no choice in the matter anymore. They would either have to kill him or take him in, and, somehow, he felt that killing him wouldn't be their choice. There were no Slytherins in the Order besides Snape, and none of the other Houses had the strength to do such a thing.
He supposed that he should be grateful for their morals, but, instead, he just pitied them. But it frightened him that he pitied him, and he knew this was why Severus had sent him away. He had wanted Draco to be protected from the violence and cruelty of the Death Eaters; unfortunately, the younger wizard felt he was already contaminated. He rather wondered if Severus knew it, too.
Draco wondered if they really understood him and Severus, if they truly comprehended why they both were willing to betray their side. He didn't think so, even though the reason was so simple. The two of them knew Voldemort and knew they could never let him win because they wanted a chance at life, which was something they'd never get serving Voldemort.
Lupin sighed, running a hand through his greying hair. At that small gesture, Draco already knew the outcome of their argument, and he allowed a small smirk to grace his lips. He always did get his way.
"Tell us what you know," Lupin said in a tired voice.
Draco shook his head, still smiling. His pale hair fell against his face, hiding his smile and once again shading the calculating light in his eyes. He looked down, knowing it made him look more vulnerable and less of a threat. Right now, he couldn't afford to make them nervous. So, he would put on the helpless, hurt child act, just to keep them guessing and feeling sorry for him. People were always easier to deal with when they were blinded by their own pity.
"What are you playing at, Malfoy! You say you know all this information and now you won't tell us a bloody thing? What sort of sick game is this!" Potter yelled, fury evident in his voice.
Obviously, the helpless little boy act didn't work with the prickly Gryffindor.
"I'm not playing a game. I just have a...request to make of you," Draco said quietly, easily placing the needed humiliation, guilt, and shame into his voice.
He could feel the other members of the Order stirring, obviously wondering what could force the proud Slytherin to come to them for help. He knew they were already full of sympathy, ready to believe whatever story he came up with, no matter how farfetched it might seem.
Draco could see Potter fuming, his hands clenched in angry fists. However, the other wizard had no say in the matter; the decision rested on Lupin. He looked over at the older man, and tried to look sincere and harmless, though he knew he was always rather bad at both things.
The werewolf nodded, gesturing for him to continue.
"I can't go back to the Death Eaters. I'm not like Severus; they'll know I'm a spy. I've...done things that have already given away my questionable loyalty. If I go back, they'll kill me," he paused, taking a deep breath as if to calm shaky nerves, another theatrical attempt at winning them over, "I need your protection. I'll do what the Order wants. I'll even fight for you. Just, let me stay here."
The room became very quiet. Draco could almost hear the thoughts turning in their heads as they wondered what to do, whether they could trust him. Of course, they must know that they couldn't trust him; the real question was whether the risk was worth the reward.
"We're going to have to discuss this, Malfoy. I'll have Harry take you to a room where you can rest until we come to a decision," Lupin said in an outwardly calm voice.
Draco wondered what was really going through the man's mind. He knew the man must think this was some sort of trick, but Draco wasn't sure how he could convince him otherwise. Draco himself wasn't even sure that staying here was the wisest idea.
Draco forced himself to nod and smile, willingly following after Potter, who looked like he just might explode from repressed fury. Well, wasn't this going to be fun, Draco thought sarcastically. They'd probably find his body stuffed in some closet the next morning.
He stopped as he reached the door, turning to face the assembled crowd again.
"I want you to trust me, so I'll tell you one thing as a sign of my trust in you. The two people who take the potion will die. It kills the users," he said softly, turning back to Potter.
As they left the room, the sound of raised voices followed them, echoing down the barren hallway. It seemed fitting to Draco that he should arrive in perfect silence and leave in his wake an angry uproar. He was getting too used to creating scenes with his mere presence; it was the burden of being infamous.
The door slammed shut behind them, the resounding thud startling Potter, who glanced behind him nervously. Obviously, he wasn't terribly comfortable being alone in dark hallway with a known murderer and Death Eater.
"Don't wet yourself, Potter," he said dryly, not bothering to hide his smirk.
Potter just glared at him and began to walk away, not waiting for the pale wizard to follow him. Draco merely followed at a leisurely pace, glancing around at the halls. It was always good to know where the nearest exit was, and he was making sure he wouldn't get lost if he had to leave in a hurry.
It depressed him that he was once more surrounded in enmity. Despite his misgivings, he had come here to help them.
POV CHANGE!
Draco Malfoy stood before Harry, his light hair falling in his now dark and shrouded eyes. There was something different about him, something intangible but still wrong. Whatever it was, it immediately put Harry's guard up. One thing he had long since learned was that injured creatures always were the first to attack. There was no questioning that Draco was hurt in some fundamental respect.
Sighing, Harry turned around, leading Draco further into the room. His intuition wouldn't be enough to have Draco turned away. He would have to discover something more substantial that would clearly show Draco's instability. For now, he would just have to watch the other man closely.
The room they entered was dark and shadowed, the drapes over the windows closed tightly. Not even a mote of light crept through the strict barriers, and all the candles throughout the room remained unlit.
"You'll be staying here," Harry said tersely and turned around, preparing to exit the miserably depressing room.
A cold, small hand on his arm stopped him. He turned back slowly, staring into Draco's dead eyes.
"What?" he snapped, shaken into anger.
Draco stared at him closely for a seemingly endless moment, his eyes narrowing slightly in concentration. While the pale man silently gazed at him, Harry forgot to breathe, wondering if the chance to uncover Draco's cruel plans had come so soon. But, after a moment, Draco blinked, his attention seeming to come back to reality.
"I'm not here to betray you," he whispered vehemently, his hand slipping off Harry's arm and falling limply to his side.
"Then what are you here for?" Harry asked, still unbelieving.
Draco began to laugh bitterly, turning his head away quickly so that a pale curtain of hair covered his face. His thin shoulders shook slightly with the force of his self-mocking laughter, unnerving Harry even more.
"To help," Draco managed to say in between hollow laughs.
Harry didn't wait for him to say more, but fled the room.
A/N: Well, what did you think? And, yes, I'm working on updates for my other stories! Sorry for the wait!