Chapter 2

Number 12 Grimmauld Place or When Draco Imagines Seducing McGonagall

The day had come for Harry to leave, finally. There was a breeze, signaling the quickly approaching fall. School should be starting soon, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione would not be attending. The sadness he felt at that was nothing but fuel to his determination to finish this. He didn't care what happened to himself, not really. He cared what happened to him for the sake of other people, and mainly Ginny. If he were to become a ghost, he knew that he would wish he were anywhere but on earth. Ginny had a way of making you regret your mistakes. There was no one who was scarier when angry. Except, maybe, Mrs. Weasley. Harry thought it might just be genetic.

Nymphadora Tonks was waiting downstairs for him. It was midnight, and therefore, easier on the Dursleys. Not that anyone much cared about their mental anxiety at seeing a purple-haired, kitty-cat eared witch come to take Harry away. It was more like they just didn't want to have to be in contact with the terrible, pathetic excuse of a family that Harry was left to deal with. He knew that if his Mum and Dad were alive to see how he was treated, Petunia and Vernon would have a lot more dangerous things to handle than the impending doom of a rising Voldemorte. Like an angry mother. And anyone, anyone, who's ever seen an angry mother knows that they are forces not to be reckoned with.

Tonks had been in a much perkier mood since Remus had finally relented. He knew for ages that he had loved her, and had only wanted to protect her. However, love did crazy things, especially in times where it was threatened. However, love was a stubborn thing, and no matter how hard someone tried to eradicate it, it grew. Like a weed, thought Harry. Love was a pesky, tricky condition, and one he was still baffled at. He knew he was in love with Ginny, knew he wanted no other, and truthfully, it scared the absolute shit out of him. To be so young and to know so surely was terrifying enough. To know he couldn't be with her only added to the pain and confusion. Harry stubbornly pushed those thoughts from his mind and tried to look as cheerful as possible as he greeted her.

"Hiya, Tonks." He smiled wanly.

"Wotcher, Harry. You okay?" She bobbed her head, electric purple hair cut short and with very definite edges around her jaw line. Harry thought it was almost sinful to be as perky as she was. He was glad, however, to see that happiness could and did still exist.

Not as far away as Harry, Hermione, and Ron thought, was Draco Malfoy, striding purposefully down a long corridor, towards a flight of stairs which he took two at time. He wasn't even out of breath after the fourth set. A student got used to the physical demands of multiple stairwells to go anywhere needed, and especially Slytherin students. Stairs were an essential part of their day-to-day life.

He stood in front of a familiar Gargoyle, frowning at it. He'd developed a plan thus far, but had forgotten to include a minor detail. Reaching the Headmistress wasn't going to be as easy as shouting some inane sweet at the motionless slab of stone. No, McGonagall's password would be tricky. Very tricky. So, he crossed his arms, glaring at the gargoyle, as though if he won a staring contest with stone he'd be granted entrance.

When it suddenly jumped to life in front of him, groaning marginally, he threw a hand to his chest, breath hitching. Headmistress McGonagall stepped out, just as purposefully as Draco had not twenty minutes before. He hurriedly composed himself, brows knitting into an expression somewhere between genuine concern and determination.

Minerva looked up, her face mildly surprised, "Mister Malfoy… something I can do for you?" She cocked her head. Some would say it was an expression of curiosity. Draco would say it was the same move a vulture would make before choosing the juiciest piece of carrion and possessing it.

"Yes. In fact there is, Headmistress." He was careful to address her respectfully. No one got anywhere without a little brown-nosing. Draco also knew that he could charm his way out of most situations. "I want to join the Order. I want to join the search for the Horcruxes. I want to have a hand in defeating…" his voice grew disgusted, "him."

"Admirable as that might be, Mister Malfoy, you'll need to speak to Harry about the search for the Horcruxes. However, seeing as you've given then Unbreakable Vow, I don't see why you shouldn't be allowed to join the Order. You may well have information and insights useful." She looked at him carefully, scrutinizing him. Albus might have been trusting, but she trusted only when trust had been earned. Draco Malfoy had taken the first few steps to gaining her trust, but he was far from there yet. They both knew where they stood with each other.

"I have to speak with Potter?" Draco's brows knit further, eyes growing far-away and contemplative. It was a moment before he made any further noise, and even then it was a deep sigh. "Bloody hell, I can't believe I'm going to do this…" he muttered under his breath. "Where do I find him?"

"Language, Mister Malfoy.. And I'm actually leaving to meet with the Order at the moment. You realize, of course, that the decision doesn't lay strictly with myself, correct? The other members have to agree to your joining, as well. Or, at the very least, it should be the majority agreeing." She returned to walking purposefully. "If you'd like to come and speak to Harry, you may follow me."

Draco pursed his lips, feeling uneasy at following McGonagall into something he considered as dangerous as a lion's den. A lion's den that contained a family of lions. A lion's den containing a family of hungry… no… correct that, starving lions. Who happened to have a particular taste for very white meat. However, follow her he did, his long legs easily closing the gap between them and staying the pace.

They stopped walking far from the Hogwarts grounds. Neither one had spoken again, each very obviously lost in his or her own thoughts. That, and Draco knew that attempting to make small talk with Minerva McGonagall would be pointless. He might as well attempt to get into her knickers. However, he wasn't really paying attention to his outward demeanor when a very uninvited mental image of him attempting to seduce his old professor turned Headmistress invaded his mind. He actually made a "Yuck!" face, briefly.

He hadn't been paying as close attention as he'd meant to on their thought-filled journey to Place-X, currently outside of the known grounds of Hogwarts, and so he merely found himself in a strange place accompanied by a very powerful witch with a known distrust of him. He marveled at the situations he repeatedly managed to get himself into. Hell, even if he managed to get out of this without wounded body or pride, he'd still have to practice what was the equivalent of pride (if not suicide, then) self-mutilation when he asked to join Potter and, no doubt, the rest of the Golden Trio on their search.

Draco reminded himself that it was for his pride and sanity that he was joining this search. He had failed at almost everything else he'd set himself to do, and this he vowed not to fail in. If it killed him, he would be doing it for his own agenda, for his own reasons, and it was what he believed he should be doing.

He looked up when he realized he hadn't been listening to the wizened woman instructing him. At his quizzical look, she explained in a slightly more exasperated tone, that he should place a finger on what appeared to be a rusted, crushed, and very abused tin can. Draco wrinkled his nose at it, but touched a fingertip to it regretfully. Minerva counted down from three and before the whole syllable of one got out, the unpleasant feeling port keys always gave him had grabbed him by the shirt collars, so to speak, and had him firmly in it's grasp.

When he felt firmament beneath him, he opened his eyes that he hadn't realized he'd closed and looked around. There was nothing to be seen, really, until McGonagall conjured up a piece of paper out of thin air, plucked it before it fell and shoved it at him.

"12 Grimmauld Place." it read. Draco looked askance at the piece of paper. Of course it would unplotable, wouldn't it? He looked up from the piece of paper that evaporated into a thin grey ash between his forefinger and thumb to see the residence it named. Distastefully rubbing thumb and finger together, he followed McGonagall to the door and inside the house.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting as comfortably as possible in the kitchen, drinking steaming cups of tea. Their manner, while comfortably quiet, said much more to one another than they could have with words. Occasionally, they exchanged glances, but nothing was really said. Until, of course, Remus stepped in, announcing the arrival of the Headmistress and a visitor. His voice was strained, shoulders taught and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

"…A visitor? Wh-?" before Harry could finish his question, McGonagall stepped in through the open doorway, rubbing her left temple. Draco followed, looking impassive. That certainly answered his question.

"Bloody hell, what's he doing here? Did you capture him?" he paused for breath, "Can we torture him?" Ron's expression went from outraged to child-like glee in an instant.

"He's here upon his request. He'd like to petition the existing members of the Order of the Phoenix to allow him to join. And he has a particular inquiry for you, Harry." She'd dropped the surname sometime after the funeral. In her heart, he'd always just been Harry, however she wouldn't allow herself to be anything but impartial while teaching. She was a Headmistress, and if she were acting in that capacity, he'd be Mister Potter. However, tonight, she came as neither one and so, allowed herself to call him Harry.

"What the hell do you think you can ask me for?" Harry had looked back down into his cup, his body as taught as a bow string. Hermione still hadn't said anything, but sat with her saucer-wide eyes, observing the situation as calmly as was possible. She knew her best friends, and she knew that Harry looked very dangerous right now. Her hands clenched the dainty white cup so hard that her fingertips were white.

"Well? Do you have an answer?" Slowly, he looked up, eyes blazing with anger, disgust, mistrust and a myriad of other not-so-pleasant emotions. Murderous, thought Hermione. He looks murderous. She shivered slightly.

Draco hadn't said anything, and in fact, was gathering his thoughts. He stood a bit straighter, chin thrust out in either a sign of self-confidence, however false, or of rebellion. "I've come, Potter, to ask if I can help you search. For the Horcruxes, I mean. I might have some information that would be valuable to you."

Harry stood up so fast that his chair flipped noisily on it's side. "Get out." he said through gritted teeth, pointing the way he'd come.

The room was unearthly quiet, no one daring to make a sound or move as the confrontation unfurled. Even Ron held his peace, swallowing roughly over his Adam's apple. "Get out. NOW!"

"No." Draco defiantly took another step into the room, his heart hammering in his chest. He showed no fear, showed no sign of backing down. "No, I've come to help you, and I can help you. I want to end this damnable war as much as you do, if for my own reasons. We're…" he faltered, feeling ashamed of himself, "We're on the same side, you dolt." He felt he finished a bit lamely, but it was the best his feverish mind could come up with on such short notice. He'd thought the Noble Hero of the Wizarding World would welcome him, as long as he was sincere. Apparently, the news clippings were wrong. Harry Potter was human, and therefore, susceptible to such things as anger and fear and pain. Hunh. Who knew?

Harry lowered his hand, but didn't take his eyes off him for the longest moment of Draco's life. He felt tiny, felt worthless under Harry's gaze. Those were things he was not accustomed to feeling, things he loathed to feel. Still, he stood strong, unmoving. Harry's eyes shifted momentarily to McGonagall. "How can we trust him?"

"He gave an Unbreakable Vow. He understands what it means, knows the consequences. I don't like it anymore than you do, Harry, but it's possible he may have information that would help us." She wasn't being impartial. She wasn't being objective. She didn't have to be. Here, she was simply Minerva, one of the few fighting for good. It was a feeling of constrained liberation that she enjoyed, guiltily.

"You honestly think we can trust him?" Harry let his eyes move to her, the tension still very visible in him and palpable in the room. Hermione having not realizing she was holding her breath let it out in a "whoosh", breaking the pause. Ron laughed weakly and she glared, shaking her head as she gasped for air as quietly as possible.

"Honestly? No. Not yet. But he has no choice as to whether or not he holds up his end of the bargain. It's my opinion that he should be allowed to join the Order, and I think you should seriously consider allowing him to come with you to search for the Horcruxes. Partly, because his information may be helpful. Partly, to keep an eye on him." Minerva answered candidly.

Draco whipped his head toward her, frowning disapproval, "Excuse me, but I am standing in the room. This is all very rude, in my opinion."

"Well, in my opinion, you furry-faced, poncey-arsed , little-" A sharp smack to the back of Ron's head cut him off.

"Ron." Hermione said his name, tone edged with warning. Obviously, she'd just told him to shut up without having to actually tell him that. Draco noted it for later. If smacking the little hot-head would get him to stop, he'd have to remember it.

Harry's eyes slowly moved to Draco, regarding him momentarily, face inscrutable. Slowly, he turned, righted his chair and sat without speaking. He removed his glasses, sat them on the table as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We'll discuss you joining with the rest of the Order. I suppose," the words seemed dragged from inside him. Draco could see the wear that constant anxiety was having on him. Bloody hell, he hoped he didn't look that bad. "you can join us," he spread his hand, indicating Ron and Hermione.

Ron spluttered, but shut his mouth, fuming when another of Hermione's withering looks was shot his way along with a very discreet head-shake. Draco found this all rather amusing. If there were going to be more abusing of the Weasel, he'd at least be entertained. He supposed Granger could be given some credit if she kept hitting Weasley. Draco found himself smirking and covered it leisurely.

Minerva watched this all, feeling the throbbing in her temple multiply. This was going to be a very, very long year.

A/N: To IndulgentWriter, thank you so much for your glowing review and I hope the next day was soon enough for you. Truthfully, I was having an issue with this chapter, and your encouragement helped me finish it at 3:24am.

Also, the progression of DM/HG will be slow, which is the only natural way to get them together. Already, there are inklings of things to come stirring in our favorite blond's head. Poor Harry, though. I keep trying to make things better, but he just demands to be written angst..il..y.. That's right. I said it. Angstily. As always, read and review. Keep 'em comin', kids. Good, bad, or ugly: I wanna know.