The truth was, that Draco Malfoy had no idea how he had ended up standing in front of the Burrow, suitcases in hand, and sobbing mother standing to his left. He begrudgingly knocked on the door and stood, his eyes glued to his snakeskin shoes. He could hear the shuffling of papers and the sounds of footsteps on the other side of the door. His mother straightened up, but his eyes remained glued to the floor. The door slowly began to creak open and Draco couldn't help but glance upwards at the synthetically smiling face of Arthur Weasley.

"Ah, yes" He said, "We've been expecting you."

His mother smiled, slightly, and picked up her bags, "Where do I…"

"Oh, I'll take care of that." Mr.Weasley said, flicking his wrist and making the bags slowly glide upstairs.

"Well…" He began awkwardly, "Don't stand out there, the bugs will get in."

Draco and his mother stepped inside. The house was nothing like Malfoy Manor. It seemed almost overstuffed; overstuffed with papers, overstuffed with books, overstuffed with people. There were, as the two Malfoys entered, six people at the dining room table, and Draco suspected there to be more in their beds upstairs. It was very late, Draco had hoped that maybe, if he'd come late enough everyone would be asleep and he wouldn't have to face the humiliation he was bound to experience until the morning.

Draco looked at the group that had gathered around the Weasley's dining room table. He cringed, almost out of habit, at the sight of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Mrs.Weasley and the twins were sitting across from the golden trio, awkwardly awaiting the arrival of their long expected guests. The now seventeen year old Malfoy boy lifted his eyes from his shoes to look directly at the six people who had once been his enemies. All of his once abundant pride drained from his body, but he would not avert his eyes, he could not let them see that he, Draco Malfoy, was a broken man.

His mother was trying her best to seem as strong as her son appeared to be. The frail woman in her mid-fifties was not accustomed to the reckless abandon that had led the Malfoy's to this place. Her husband was dead, she was supposed to be dead, and her son…well her son was worse than dead. Her son was a marked man. Dumbledore's offer had weighed heavily on his heart, and shortly after he'd returned home he had made the decision. He needed to get himself, and his mother, out of Malfoy Manor. He knew the Dark Lord would find out that Severus had finished the job he'd been sent to do. The Dark Lord would punish his weakness more severely than he could have imagined. The glory he'd imagined at being able to finally finish his task had drained from his body once he'd realized that he, try as he might, was not a murderer. Wit and swagger could only get him so far, and once he had been faced with the deed he'd always said he'd do with pride, he knew he couldn't. To end a life, to finish a man he knew in his heart was good. A man who had offered him an escape from the nightmare that his life had become, he couldn't do it.

If backup had not arrived right at that moment, he would have lowered his wand. He would have reached out his hand to the pitiful sight of Albus Dumbledore lying on the ground, weakened by some unknown force, and helped him resume the strength to fight. But he'd never gotten the chance. A moment's hesitation cost him the only trust the six people sitting around the old table in front of him would have had to go on.

It was obvious that they were suspicious of why he was there. Seven years of rivalries, seven years of insults, and seven years of good versus evil weighed on their opinion of him, and Draco feared there was nothing he could do to change that. He was alone. He had no Crabbe, no Goyle to back him up. He had no Pansy sneering behind him, no army of Death Eaters arriving at any moment to save him from the impending danger. For the first time in his life, he had to face a situation on his own.

"Well…" Mrs. Weasley was the first to speak. "Would…would either of you like something to drink? Tea maybe?"

Mrs. Malfoy looked across the table at the woman who was offering her the only kindness she'd encountered in months. She was Narcissa's exact opposite. A short fat woman with frizzy red hair and dirty old robes, Narcissa was a stark contrast. She was, as always, immaculately dressed and her thin blonde hair pulled back into an elegant bun. Her slender frame looked awkward against the large, dusty armchair upon which she had taken the liberty of sitting down.

"And for you, Draco?" She asked mildly.

"No…" He replied, and then hurriedly added, "No thank you I think I just…I think I just want to get to bed."

"Of course dear" Mrs. Weasley said, allowing a small smiled to spread across her rosy cheeks, your room is upstairs, first door on the right. You'll have to sleep on a cot we set out for you on the floor, Harry and Ron took the beds…"

Draco's head immediately snapped toward Harry and Ron whose glares met his and then looked away determinedly.

We'll be sharing a room. He thought. Excellent…

He nodded at the six who were sitting around the table and made his way upstairs to the room Mrs. Weasley had indicated. His suitcase was neatly placed next to a small cot that had been set up in the corner of the room.

So this is Weasley's room… He thought.

The walls were covered with Quidditch posters and pinup girls from Wizard Quarterly. Two beds were pushed close together where Potter and Weasley must be sleeping. He sat himself down on the old springy cot and put his head in his hands. Of all the places McGonagall could have sent him, of all the places that she could have decided were safe, this Burrow was not what he'd had in mind. From what he'd gathered Sirius Black was able to hide himself away in an old pureblood mansion, why couldn't he do the same?

Because they want to make sure you're really loyal. A nasty voice said in the back of his mind. Because they want you to be surrounded by people who can keep an eye on you. After what happened with Snape…

The door to the room creaked open and Harry and Ron entered silently and sat down on their respective beds. Draco looked up to see that they were both staring at him. They had walked in on him at quite a vulnerable time. It wasn't as though Potter hadn't seen worse. Last year Potter had walked in on him crying, and nearly killed him in the process. Draco slowly stretched out his long legs and put his hands behind him, hoping to look relaxed.

He had no idea what to say to either of them. The usual string of insults obviously would not do, and he realized in that moment that he really had no idea how to start a real conversation with anyone.

Harry cleared his throat.

Ron shifted awkwardly.

Draco removed his socks.

The three boys sat in a strange silence, none of them quite sure what to say to the other.

Draco finally resolved to speak. "I realize…that of all the places in this world that I may have been welcome…this is probably the least…"

"If you've really changed then there is nothing that you should have to worry about." Harry said. "If you're really here for the reasons you've said."

"And why else would I be here?" Draco asked. "Why else would I put myself through the humiliation, if not to escape a fate worse than death?"

"Saving your own skin," Ron laughed, "that's noble."

"I'm a Malfoy." Draco said. "I'm not accustomed to being noble."

"Well you're going to have to learn." Harry spat. "You can't just expect us to take you in, no questions asked, without you proving yourself. Not after what happened with Snape…"

"How do we know you're any different?" Ron asked.

Draco sighed. "Because, I, unlike Snape, have proven that I cannot kill a man."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Harry scoffed.

"Isn't it though?" Draco asked. "We're at war! What would happen if at the moment you faced the Dark Lord you realized you could not accomplish the greatest task ever given to you in your life because you cannot kill a man."

Harry paused for a moment. "Killing the most evil creature on this earth, and killing a good man are two different things."

"Maybe" Draco sighed, "I would not know."

"Well maybe sometime soon you'll be able to tell us." Ron said.

"If that's what it takes to prove myself…what else can I do?" Draco said, quietly slipping into his pajamas.

"If you prove to be a traitor or some sort of spy…"Ron began.

"I will kill you." Harry finished.

"You say that now, Harry Potter" Draco sighed, "but when the moment comes, and the only thing that stands between you, Harry Potter, boy of seventeen and becoming a murderer is one simple spell, you may feel differently."

Draco laid his head on the pillow that had been left for him and closed his eyes, signaling the end of the conversation. Ron reached over and turned out the light as if to tell Harry to drop it, but Harry stayed, fully clothed, sitting on the end of his bed until hours after the two other boys had fallen asleep.