Draco Malfoy sat alone at the kitchen table in number 12 Grimmauld place staring morosely into a cup of weak tea. Truth be told he fancied something a bit stronger, but this was the headquarters of the order of unicorns, or order of pigeons, or whatever it was these ponces were calling themselves these days. Draco wouldn't be surprised if there was nothing stronger than instant coffee here.

The door opened and closed behind Draco and a second later a hand full of wooden splinters was deposited on the table in front of him.

"You exploded it?" Draco looked up into the face of Albus Dumbledore, who was gazing at him over the tops of his spectacles, "What, snapping it in two too good for me?"

This was all Ginny's fault, mused Draco. Ginny who'd pretended to turn deatheater. Ginny who'd strutted around Malfoy manor as if she owned the place. Ginny who'd kissed him so deeply and looked at him so earnestly that Draco had offered actually offered to come back to Dumbledore with her and offer to help, deserting his family, friends and fortune in the process.

"It's just a precaution Mr Malfoy, unlike young Miss Weasley and myself not all of the order are convinced of the sincerity of your offer to help our side."

"And tell me Professor Dumbledore, exactly how am I supposed to help you if my wand's been destroyed?"

Dumbledore reached under the kitchen table and produced a feather duster, a bottle of magical mess remover and some pink rubber gloves, "I believe Mrs Weasley needs some help spring cleaning the attic."