Reluctant Acceptance

Harry was frozen with shock. He stood in the hall with his mouth gaping and his green eyes wide in surprise. He stared at Draco for a full minute, truly not comprehending what he was seeing. To the surprise of all, he made no move towards his wand and no threat of physical violence. Instead, he just stared. Draco felt uncomfortable under Harry's intense green gaze, which was not quite a glare, but not exactly welcoming either.

"Happy to see me, scar head?" Draco taunted, both to break the awkward silence and to get a rise out of Harry.

But Harry did nothing. He simply kept staring at Draco, apparently lost in thought. Draco would have preferred if Harry had tried to take a swing at him or curse him; something as an act of vengeance.

'Merlin knows I deserve it,' thought Draco, steadily looking back into Harry's eyes. Not only had he facilitated Dumbledore's murder and hell, almost murdered the man himself, but he had also made all three of their lives as miserable as humanly possible. And now for Harry just to stand there when he obviously had the advantage… 'It's not right,' Draco thought.

Harry's eyes changed shades almost too quickly for Draco to perceive. A bright, intense flash was anger, no doubt in response to Draco's jibe. But the bright green faded quickly to despair. Draco smirked, knowing exactly how Harry was feeling and that it was the worst pain he could wish on his enemy. Harry broke eye contact with Draco and looked at the wall, trying to hold back the tears that now made his eyes shine.

'Ha, I won,' thought Draco with juvenile triumph, unconsciously lifting his head higher into the air.

Then Harry looked up again. In his eyes now was an emotion that broke Draco's rebellious spirit and tore his attitude to ribbons: pity. Harry gave the smallest shake of his head, communicating with Draco though his mouth was set in a grim line.

'I was there,' the headshake said. 'I saw your resolve waiver. I saw your strength weaken. I saw you back down. I knew you in your moment of weakness and I will never forget it. I hate you for it, but I'm sorry for you.'

Draco's lip curled into a sneer. 'Damn you, Potter,' he thought, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth.

The silence that had taken over was obliterated as fast as it had come. The intense, momentary connection was gone.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here, ferret?" asked Ron venomously.

Malfoy glared at his carrot-topped classmate. "It's none of your business, Weasley," he snapped defensively.

"Like hell it's not, you fucking bastard!"

"Language, Ronald," Hermione hissed.

"Yes, language, Ronald," Draco mocked. He laughed cruelly as Hermione huffed and glared at him, arms crossed over her chest.

Ron looked ready to pounce again. He stopped when he heard the familiar clunk of Moody making his way down the hall towards them.

"Oh, so you know he's here then?" Moody asked Harry rhetorically.

Harry nodded anyways. "What is he doing here, Professor?" he asked in a nasty tone.

"Never you mind, Potter. You have more important things to focus on than this piece of pond scum."

Draco scowled at the insult. 'Although, by usual standards,' he thought wryly, 'pond scum is ridiculously tame.'

"Follow me, Mr. Malfoy," Moody grunted. "We have a lot to talk about."

He nodded silently and followed Moody out of the hall and into a small room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were close on his heels and tried to enter into the room behind him.

"No, no, no. Not you three," Moody growled. He brusquely ushered them out of the room and cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door.

"That'll keep out those damned Extendable Ears," Moody muttered to himself after a satisfied look at the door. "Now, Mister Malfoy, you had better explain yourself, because I have half a mind to hex you on the spot."

'Half a mind is right,' thought Draco as he looked around the room. He was purposely ignoring Moody's question for a time, trying to establish some form of control. Unfortunately, Moody seemed to know what Draco was doing.

"I needn't remind you that you are not amongst friends here, sonny. So I'd start answering some questions if I were you." He withdrew his wand and held it up threateningly. "You made a very nice ferret the last time, I hear."

Draco looked at the wand, his grey eyes lightly filled with some trepidation, then back at Moody. "What do you want to know?"

"Why are you here?"

"Because I want to be," Draco said vaguely. Moody straightened and took a threatening step towards Draco.

"Maybe you misunderstand me," started Moody. He raised his wand at Draco, who looked at him coolly.

"No, I understand you perfectly," he drawled. "Except I can't answer questions if I'm a ferret," he said with a straight face. Draco called Moody's bluff. He waited tensely for the ex-Auror's reaction.

"And I can't expect an honorable answer from a boy who makes such a fine rodent," he muttered, lowering his wand. "It seems that I'll have to do this the hard way."

Moody turned. Draco expected him to pull out a vial of Veritaserum from his oversized trench coat. He prepared for an intense struggle, but need not have worried. Instead of a vial, Moody raised his wand into the air. Out of it appeared a wisp of smoke that zoomed off through the walls. Within two minutes, Draco heard a knock on the door.

"Enter," said Moody in his gravelly voice. A man walked into the room that Draco had never seen before. "This is Channing Orman, our newest Order member. He is our resident Legilimens."

Channing Orman looked to be in his mid-thirties. He was of average height and build. He had mouse-brown hair, a high forehead, dull brown eyes, and a slightly bulging nose. He dressed in standard black robes and carried himself in a manner that was in no way extraordinary. Altogether, Channing Orman was completely and utterly average in every way. And it was for this reason that Draco did not trust him.

'He's too normal…someone who can slip through the cracks,' Draco thought while scrutinizing the content-looking man, whose brown eyes roved passively over everything they encountered. He seemed not to take in anything, but Draco knew that look. Channing was absorbing every minute detail of the room, committing it fully to memory. 'He knows more than he lets on,' Draco thought with certainty.

"You called me, Moody?"

Draco sneered. 'Even his voice is unremarkable. Does the man have even a spark of originality?'

"We need to find out if we can trust sonny jim over there." Moody sharply gestured in Draco's direction with his head, making his spinning eye suddenly change direction.

Channing nodded silently and walked over to Draco.

"Sit down, please," asked Channing politely, gesturing to a chair.

Disgusted with his civility, Draco remained standing and his face took on a haughty air. Put off by his cold reaction, Channing seemed to lose his composure only slightly. He coughed in the back of his throat and mumbled, "Or keep standing."

Draco raised his head proudly as Channing approached him. His eyes were the color of cold metal; he swore the brown eyed man flinched when they made eye contact. Channing tried to smile reassuringly, but it simply appeared as one of nervousness as he silently cast the spell.

A wave of disgust ran through Draco as he was forced to relive some of his most painful memories in front of Channing. There was Draco when he was a tear-filled boy, watching his mother and father having a horrific fight. At Hogwarts now, having his first real encounter with the famous Harry Potter on broomsticks. Third year, getting punched by Granger. Channing went through these memories quickly, although why he was going through them at all was lost upon Draco.

Channing came to the more intense memories quite quickly and set about exploring them thoroughly. He saw Voldemort's cruelty through Draco's eyes, the horror undiminished by time and distance. He saw Voldemort giving Draco orders to kill Dumbledore, Draco failing that mission, and the punishment for his weakness. The pain was still fresh in Draco's mind as well as his body. He flinched as he saw the Cruciatus Curse take hold. His torso hurt as he saw his body being beaten by his father. He felt weak at the sight of his blood upon the cold marble floor.

A black space then appeared in front of Draco's mind, meaning that Channing was seeing this black space as well. Draco could feel him probe further into this chunk of missing memories, but Draco knew he would find nothing. Relenting, Channing skipped to the memory of Draco leaving, once again putting him through seeing his broken mother for possibly the last time.

The spell cut off immediately and Draco felt his whole body relax. He had not realized how tense he was during Channing's scan. His muscles ached slightly and he was breathing deeply.

"Nothing there, Moody. He's clean."

Draco tried not to let the surprise show on his face. Channing failed to mention the obvious chunk of black. 'Any other Legilimens would have reported that immediately,' Draco thought. He caught eyes with Channing and surreptitiously quirked an eyebrow. When he met Channing's eyes, though, he saw something much different than passive observance. His eyes were hard, calculating, and somehow, Draco thought, privy to a piece of information that no one else knew. They were secretive and sneaky, putting Draco further on edge.

The look lasted only a moment, though, as Moody coughed, attracting Channing's full attention. He looked skeptically at Channing; Draco swore he was on the verge of questioning his credentials. But instead, Moody dismissed him a grunt. He turned to Draco now, both eyes glaring at him steadily.

"If I find that you've been hiding anything, boy…"

"You heard him. I'm hiding nothing," Draco said coolly.

"Then what is your purpose here?" Moody asked finally.

Draco looked down and hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to phrase his request. "I'm taking up Dumbledore's offer," Draco said to the floor. He raised his eyes to Moody expectantly. "I want protection."

Moody's face twisted into something akin to a mean smile. "And what if I told you Dumbledore's offer only stood when he was living?"

"Then I'll leave," Draco ceded. "But with him gone, the Order is in disarray."

"It's in no such state!" Moody interrupted defensively.

Draco ignored him. "I just figured that you all could use a little help with investigations. Surely there's something I can do to help."

"Help? You?" Moody barked. "Ha! You must think I'm mad if you seriously think I would consider that. One of Voldemort's boys, looking for protection, is not going to be put in with the Order." Moody continued his raspy laugh.

"Fine," said Draco, his cheeks flushing slightly from embarrassment. "I'll leave." As Draco turned to the door, Moody's sharp laugh sounded behind him.

"Not so fast," he said, as Draco turned back around. "The Order does need help." His face twisted into a gnarled grin and he paused dramatically before saying, "Our resident House-Elf has run off."