I was half unconscious when they dragged me in front of some old, run down Muggle houses and shoved a piece of paper in front of my eyes.

"Read it," a voice demanded.

It was hard enough keeping myself awake, but I complied anyway, too weak to care. I read the words allowed:

"The location of the Order of the Phoenix is Number 12, Grimmauld Place."

As a door materialized in front of my eyes, and my last thought being, Those bastards used the Fidelius, I succumbed to the darkness.

I was awakened by a kick to the leg, followed by the sound of someone yelling, "Don't do that! We need him on our side!"

Ah, the Mudblood. Who else? And the one who kicked me?

I blinked and looked up into that crazy, swiveling blue eye of Moody's.

Great.

I was tied to a chair in what looked like the kitchen. I tried shifting, but my hands and feet were both secured. "What do you want?" I croaked out.

"What do you think, you insolent brat?" Moody spat. The Mudblood glared at him and I almost laughed. What does she care?

Then Potter stepped forward. I resisted the urge to spit. Filthy, Muggle thing to do. He crouched down in front of the chair I was tied to, so that we were eye to eye.

"We need your help, Malfoy. You know as well as I do that my side is losing. There just aren't enough of us, and with Snape turned and Dumbledore gone, our future is pretty bleak." He cocked his head to one side, as if studying me. "Why did you go back to them, Draco, after what happened on the Astronomy Tower?"

I glared at him. "You know perfectly well why. They had my mother. I had no choice. I'm a Death Eater now, and with Death Eaters is where I belong."

"Is that why you tried to attack Ginny? Is that why you ran when you saw the rest of us Apparate?" Potter asked. "Is that how you got those scars that we saw when we were tying you up?"
I averted my eyes. Damn him, anyway.

"He tortured you, didn't he? After he found out that you couldn't kill him. That you didn't want to kill him. Is that what you're fighting for?"

"Fuck you, Potter!" I growled, suddenly. What the hell did he know? He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the hero of the Wizarding world. What did he know about choices? What did he know about family? He didn't have any. "You think that capturing me and tying me to a chair in your kitchen is going to make me want to join you? You're all traitors and filth."

"And yet, we're not the ones who go around killing and torturing innocent people because of their bloodline," someone said. It was the werewolf. Lupin.

"And half-breed animals," I added, as if he hadn't spoken.

Potter ignored me. "You have inside information. You could be a great help to us. More help than you probably are to Voldemort."

I involuntarily cringed at the sound of his name.

"Dumbledore was right when he said that it wasn't too late. This is where you belong," Potter continued.

I gave him the most hateful glare I could muster. "Go to hell."

He got up then, regarding me as if he was on some pedestal, and I was the lowly servant below. It reminded me of how I used to look at Dobby. "We'll give you some time to think about it. Untie him and give him that extra room by the attic."

"What?" Moody exclaimed. "Are you insane, Potter?"

"We're not like them. We don't hold prisoners. Release him. But if you try to leave, Draco, we'll have to tie you up again. We have to preserve our safety."

I snorted as Moody grudgingly moved forward to untie me. "The whole lot of you can go to hell."

They held me there for a week. I watched them as they went about Order business. I watched their camaraderie. I watched as how their spirit never darkened, even in the worst hours. I saw new people come and others never come back. I began to worry about them.

They gave me three meals a day and a room of my own. The Mudblood even tried to get her cat to keep me company. Lupin continually argued with Moody on my behalf, saying that my joining the Death Eaters wasn't my fault and that I hadn't had a choice. I began to feel grateful.
And then the Mud… Hermione's…. parents were killed. She found them blown to pieces by what had looked like the Reductor curse. I knew my aunt's work when I saw it. Granger completely lost it then. Weasley and Potter had to commit her to St. Mungo's. I went with them to visit her. I hear she's doing better now, and the Healers are going to let her come home.

The day I found out about Granger's parents is the day I joined the Order. Maybe it was partly because they treated me better than the Death Eaters – and my father – ever had. But I think it was mostly because of Granger. I saw what her parent's death had done to her. I knew that one of my own family had done it to her. I felt bad for her. So, I gave them all the information that I could and mentally stripped the Dark Mark from my arm. I knew it was still there, physically. It would always be there. A constant reminder of my betrayal.

The question was, a betrayal of whom?

A/N: Just a quickie drabble that I did for MNFF's Autumn Term Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Competely unlrelated to "History"... mostly. ;)