It is difficult to say who do you the most harm: enemies with the worst intentions or friends with the best. - Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

Ginny's incident at the Ministry with Draco had been shoved to the back of her mind almost instantly when she returned to the Burrow. That was partially due to the fact that Dumbledore was there with Kingsley and another woman Ginny did not recognize. She and her father entered the kitchen and he addressed them.

"Is something wrong, Albus?" Mr. Weasley asked tentatively and Mrs. Weasley stood up from the table, looking at her daughter.

"Ginny, you need to go upstairs and close your door," she said and Ginny frowned.

"Why? Can't I stay?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"This is very sensitive information, Ms. Weasley. I advise that you go."

This was not the normal meetings they had been having at the Burrow lately. Dumbledore's eyes lacked the twinkle that usually lit his blue eyes and Ginny's mother was silently begging her to leave.

"Did something happen to Harry?" Ginny heard herself ask and Mrs. Weasley groaned.

"Ginny, please go," she pleaded. "It's important that you are not here."

"But-"

"Ginerva," Mr. Weasley snapped. "Leave."

Ginny would have protested, but a quick look from Dumbledore silenced her immediately and she reluctantly left the kitchen, slowly making her way up the stairs to her bedroom. It disturbed her that they were suddenly keeping things from her and it was unnerving to know that something bad was happening and she had no way of knowing about it. Her thoughts drifted to her brother and his friends at the Black House and how desperately she wished to see them.

Her tolerance of being left in the dark was slowly waning and she wanted to be able to do more than just sit around the house, cleaning or filing at the Ministry.

She wanted to be useful.

"Master Draco, your guests have arrived," a house elf announced tentatively before moving out of the doorway to allow Goyle and Crabbe into Draco's room. Draco waited until the elf was gone and the door shut before he spoke.

"Mr. Thomas was not particularly interested in helping me," he said calmly, scanning the book he had been reading earlier. "I didn't appreciate the way the meeting ended."

"Draco-"

"I'm not finished," Draco growled, standing up and turning around to face them, his eyes icy and stoic. "You vouched for him and he tried to kill me."

"He was very avid to the cause," Goyle muttered and Draco's eyes turned to him.

"And it got him killed and it will get you killed if you don't explain yourself."

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged looks before Crabbe stepped forward.

"He approached me two weeks ago and told me he had information about Lucius. It checked out."

"With who?"

Goyle could see the sweat appearing on Crabbe's pudgy face and stood up a bit straighter.

"Draco, we have a more pressing matter to talk about," he mumbled and Draco's eyes flashed dangerously.

"More pressing than the bastard I killed in front of ten people," he hissed and Goyle pulled out a letter.

"Your mother," he said and Draco immediately grabbed it, reading it quickly before looking up.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded and Goyle pointed to Crabbe. The other boy hesitated a little before he spoke up.

"After the Diagon Alley incident… I started searching through… everything, really and I-"

"Skip to the part where I find it interesting," Draco snapped and Crabbe nodded.

"Yes, well, that," he pointed to the letter, "was on its way to your mother and my bird intercepted it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Draco looked between the two cronies and then back to the letter.

To whom it may concern,

I am writing in response to your request a week ago to obtain the necessary funds to acquire some assistance in England. I have received some interest in the venture and am currently in contact with Headmaster to provide the necessary opportunity to send them over. My next correspondence shall be in the next two weeks.

It has also come to my knowledge that your son has yet to receive clarification on the matter of the war. While that is understandable in his current position, I cannot stress the importance of his acceptance of his position within these ranks. There are several who answered your request who are uncertain about where your son stands in terms of being helpful. Assurance is a formidable ally in this time and would be much appreciated.

Yours Truly.

Draco stared at the text, contemplating a way to go about this.

Has yet to receive clarification…

Those words were just as bad as the acid that would be poured onto his skin to create assurance in the minds of those who his mother contacted. Contrary to what the man who wrote this letter may have believed, Draco had perfect clarity of what was going on in the war and had no intention of joining the whole, hopeless affair. Only one side would become victorious in that venture and he was well aware of the power of both sides.

It was interesting to know that his mother was still intending to create an incident within the walls of Hogwarts after several warnings by not only Dumbledore, but her own husband to stay away from the school. This must have been the idea of Bellatrix. His mother was much too passive to concoct such a fantastical plan.

Then again, Bellatrix was too aggressive to wait patiently to infiltrate Hogwarts.

Someone else was involved.

"You've saved yourself this time, Crabbe," Draco said slowly, looking up at the boy. "But just barely."

At this point, the boy was sweating profusely, which irritated Draco and forced him to point to the door.

"Get out," he growled. Crabbe fled the room while Goyle stayed behind, keeping his eyes averted from the unhappy blonde. Draco placed the letter down on his desk and then sat back down on the couch, motioning for Goyle to sit down as well. They were quiet for a moment while Draco thought carefully through his next words.

"Crabbe's becoming weak," he whispered and Goyle hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Draco did not wait for him to. "I can't have weakness in my ranks." Their eyes met and Goyle frowned.

"Are you going to get rid of him?" he asked cautiously and Draco shook his head.

"No," he replied. "He could still be useful… but I want you to have him watched for the rest of the summer." Draco then remembered what happened at the café and sat back in his seat. "I also want information to Zabini to be… censured carefully."

"You don't trust him."

Once again, Draco thought of the dark skinned boy and Warrington. There was too much tension there for Draco to be completely at ease with what was going on. Sooner or later it would have to be addressed.

"I don't want to question the integrity of those who say they are loyal to me," he growled. "If this war is to be weathered out, then I do not need Slytherins to start slaughtering each other."

"Zabini's smart though," Goyle pointed out. "Smarter than Warrington."

Draco nodded, but was still a little wary. Until he was able to really assess and test Zabini, he would reserve his trust for Goyle.

"I don't want to see him around unless I ask for him, okay?"

Goyle nodded and stood up, moving to leave.

"Anything else?"

Draco looked up at the boy and for some reason his mind went to the Ministry and his run in with the girl Weasley.

"What do you know about Ginerva Weasley?" he asked and Goyle raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Weasley's sister?"

"Yes."

Shifting a little, Goyle tried to rack his brain for anything he remembered about the girl. For the most part, he ignored all aspects of Weasley unless they were confronted by the redhead. He had never said a word to the younger one and had never found reason to. To see Draco's interest was a little unnatural.

"I don't know anything about her, Draco," he said honestly. "Pretty, but that's it."

Draco nodded and then pointed to the door.

"Contact me when you get some information about Cathers. I want know who he was really working for."

The door shut quietly behind the large boy, leaving Draco to the darkness of his room. His mind went over the events of that week, trying to figure out how he had come from searching for clothes to killing a man.

What bothered him most was that he was not bothered by it. He had continued on as if nothing had happened and he had a feeling that that was not the natural response to such an action. The looks of terror on those who had witnessed what he had done indicated the very monstrosity that resided within him and he wondered how he was even able to conceal it so well while it consumed those like his aunt and the unpleasant Fenrir Greyback fellow that visited the Malfoy residence occasionally.

This little reminder, however, was not enough to make him feel guilty for offing the dull and unfortunate Mr. Thomas Cathers. The man had attacked him first and while all of those witnesses may despise Draco for his connections, there was no denying the bald man's attempted actions towards Draco. A threat to life was a threat to life and any person who wanted to kill Draco deserved to die first.

Now, all he had to deal with a trial, where he would be acquitted of the charges. He would have to return to the Ministry in a week, but until then, he was out on the condition that he did not leave the country.

Draco snorted and leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes and smirking.

Like he had somewhere outside of England to be.

Being confined to England was a joke in itself and Moody had protested the agreement. The judge, however, a very close friend of the family, would not be swayed from his decision. There were so many things for Draco to do until his trial. Like go to the Archives.

Sighing, he shook his head and stood up, heading for the bathroom.

His behavior towards the Weasley had been less than appealing at best, considering the circumstances. They had both uttered words that were childish and a little aggressive, but Ginny's body language towards the end of their conversation and the words she had said to him indicated something more subtle.

Had it been any other Weasley, specifically the one who vocalized Harry Potter's thoughts, Draco would not have even approached them. But the youngest Weasley had caught and drawn his attention to her for the mere fact that she was alone in a place where people should not be alone anymore. In his presence, she had quickly run through many different feelings about his proximity and gradually expressed those feelings with words. Very frank and unforgiving words that he had a feeling she reserved particularly for him.

While he was perfectly capable of denying his feelings for the lesser pureblood, he could not refute the physical attraction that was blatantly there. Just their mere proximity caused shockwaves down his spine. And even without her slip up at the end, he could tell that she was just as attracted.

Pulling off his clothes, he stepped into the shower and ran hot water over his cold, pale skin, turning up the temperature in hopes that he would actually feel something.

He was surprised he was actually entertaining such thoughts for such a girl. Unlike most girls from Hogwarts, Ginny was untouchable for the mere reason that she was associated with Potter. Had she just merely been Weasley's little sister, then perhaps he would allow himself the freedom to think of her as more than just a nice arse and beautiful words.

But that was the only reason he had not provoked her further. She was not her brother, or Potter or that smart little Mudblood. There was no need to venture further into an unnecessary relationship. They were fine just antagonizing each other.

He was fine just being a pain.

The bathroom door opened and he pulled open the small door to the shower to see Pansy Parkinson come in, closing the door behind her.

"Your mother told me you were here," she whispered, eyeing the fogged glass door that kept them apart. "I thought I would offer my services if necessary."

Draco looked her over, becoming aroused at the mere thought of what she could do to him.

"They are required," he said before closing the door. He heard her move around and a moment later, the glass door opened and she appeared before him, naked and ready. A grin came to his face and he slowly moved his hands up to her hips, pulling her flush up against him. She groaned at the contact and her eyes closed as she struggled to retain clarity. Whimpers began to escape her lips as his mouth traveled down her neck towards her breasts, her fingers digging into his skin with every slight caress.

Pansy had never been very good at controlling her emotions, which was quite possibly her biggest weakness. But at the moment, Draco was not interested in assessing the young woman. All he wanted was to spend a few hours fulfilling his needs before he would be forced to spend time with his tiresome mother.

Judging by the way Pansy was beginning to move against him, she was very willing to oblige.

Harry, Hermione and Ron had only been in the house for an hour before a discussion downstairs caught their attention. They slowly snuck down the stairs towards the kitchen and pressed their ears to the door, eager to hear what was going on.

"Looking past the actual action, I'm talking about who he killed, Arthur," they heard Remus say. "Thomas Cathers was providing Voldemort with sensitive information and Draco Malfoy killed him."

The trio exchanged glances.

"So we should suddenly start inviting him over for tea just because he got rid of one bad egg?" Arthur demanded angrily. "If we did that, practically every bloody Death Eater would be here!"

"That's not the point, Arthur. The point is, Draco Malfoy is our only link within the Slytherin ranks and is as close as we'll ever get to Lucius Malfoy. If we can get him on our side-"

"Draco Malfoy is the son of a Death Eater and is probably one himself!" Alastor Moody bellowed, startling the three by the door. "If we put even the slightest bit of trust in that prick, then we'll end up costing Harry his life."

"What makes you so sure he's followed the steps of his father?" Remus demanded. "The boy may be troubled, but he is far from the point of no return. Dumbledore himself-"

"With all due respect to Albus, but I am not going to ask Draco Malfoy to be a snitch for the Order," Arthur growled.

At that point, Harry was too curious to keep it in and before the other two could stop him, he yanked the door open and stepped into the kitchen. The group of Order members standing there all looked at him with shock written all over their faces.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Tonks demanded, watching as Hermione and Ron entered as well. "Were you three spying on this meeting?"

Harry ignored the question.

"You're going to ask Malfoy to join the Order?" he asked disbelievingly. Arthur Weasley frowned and stood up.

"No they're not. Harry, you should leave now," he advised but he would not be turned away.

"Are you asking Malfoy to join?" he demanded and Remus stood up.

"No, Harry, we have no intention of asking him to join, but," he added. "Seeing with the young man's current situation, it would be within our interest to offer him a chance to redeem himself by providing us with certain information that would be pertinent to us winning this war."

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You're going to ask him to be a snitch," she restated in simpler terms and immediately Ron and Harry's demeanor changed. Ron began shaking his head while Harry gave Remus a cold look.

"Malfoy's a Death Eater," Harry growled and Tonks shook her head.

"That has not been verified and it has become clear to us that he has no interest in joining his father in the war," she clarified. "You don't understand the pressure we're under, Harry."

"He's a murderer," Ron snarled. "He killed that man and he's done horrible things to all of us! He doesn't deserve a chance to be a snitch!"

"Boys, you need to calm down," Mr. Weasley said carefully. "This isn't any of your concern."

"You can't let him into the order!" Harry growled and Remus slammed his hand down on the table.

"That's enough!" he shouted, shaking the three out of their anger. "Now you three have been privy to a lot of information around here, but we have not told you everything for your own safety," he growled. Hermione was about to say something when Remus shot her a look. "Shut up," he snapped and the three of them sat down in shock, mouths clamped together and eyes wide open. Satisfied, Remus ran a hand through his thinning hair, cooling off slightly when Tonks placed a hand on his arm. "Look… you three do not understand everything that's going on right now… Voldemort has become silent and Death Eater activities have reached a lull. We're certain he has something planned for Hogwarts, but we cannot verify it without a reliable source. Now I know you three have your issues with the boy, but he is currently our only chance of getting information about his father and Voldemort."

Tonks sat down across from the trio.

"We have word from a good source that Malfoy hasn't yet taken the Mark, which is unusual unless he doesn't want to. If he is reluctant to join the Death Eater side, then perhaps he will be helpful to us," she explained.

Ron shifted in his seat and frowned.

"Why Malfoy?"

Hermione gave him a look.

"Ron, they just said-"

He shot her a withering glare and she fell silent, staring at him as he returned to looking at Remus.

"I meant why the sudden trust in his capabilities?" he clarified. "He just killed that man."

When the response was not immediate, Harry realized what was going on.

"It's because he killed that man?" he asked disbelievingly.

Tonks glanced over at Moody, who still looked incensed about the whole situation.

"Thomas Cathers is the man he killed," she told them. "After a preliminary look through his office and home, we found out that he's been in contact with some known Death Eaters over the past couple of months. He also had some very important files that he should not have even had possession of. According to witnesses, Cathers tried to kill Malfoy first."

Ron snorted.

"Pity," he muttered and Hermione hit him in the arm.

"Ron, that's not funny."

He looked over at her.

"It wasn't meant to be funny, Hermione," he retorted. "Killing a Death Eater doesn't make Malfoy a good person." He stood up and headed for the exit. "It just means he has no problem killing someone publically."

Hermione watched him leave before she turned to Remus.

"How exactly were you planning to approach Malfoy with the offer?" she asked, attracting Harry's attention from the door as well.

At this point, Mr. Weasley returned to the conversation, his eyes blazing.

"This part is where you three have no business in knowing," he snapped angrily before turning to Remus. "And you have no business asking because it's not going to happen."

"Arthur, you said they -"

"What I told you in private has nothing to do with the situation and you bloody well know it," Arthur snarled. "You leave my family out of this."

Harry frowned.

"What's going on?"

Mr. Weasley turned to him.

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Harry," he assured, though it was obvious that he was still extremely upset. "Please leave."

Hermione ushered Harry out of the kitchen quickly before he could question the men further, pulling him up the stairs where Ron was sitting, examining the hole in his jeans.

"They can't be serious about letting Malfoy into the Order, can they?" he asked when they approached. Hermione looked down at him and frowned.

"Ron, they've got a point with this whole business. Especially if Malfoy hasn't taken the Mark. He's the perfect spy. Every student in Slytherin trusts him and tells him everything."

"But he can't be trusted," Harry objected. "He's just as bad as his father."

Hermione hesitated at the statement.

"Harry, I'm not particularly sure he's as bad as we think he is," she said and they gave her nasty looks. She bit her lip and corrected her statement. "What I meant is that while he may say things and in general just be absolutely horrible, we've never actually seen him do anything. I think he's just all talk."

Harry snorted.

"Fifth year wasn't just talk," he grumbled and Hermione sighed.

"You know what I mean, Harry," she chided. "He's never been involved in anything remotely related with Voldemort and you two know it."

Harry was about to protest when Ron cut him off.

"She's got a point, Harry," he pointed out. "Malfoy's a slimy git, but when it comes to Death Eaters, he's a pus-"

"Ron," Hermione snapped, glaring at him. He rolled his eyes and huffed, standing up so that he was now towering over her.

"I don't like him, Hermione," he responded pointedly. "I don't like him. Harry doesn't like him and I sure as hell hope you don't like him either."

Hermione frowned.

"Of course I don't like him, but that does not mean I have to demean him with such language, Ronald," she said, sniffing indignantly. "I think we're all bigger than that."

Harry snorted again, moving up the stairs with Ron.

"Sure it sounds like a good idea, but what could we possibly offer him that would give him the slightest incentive to tell us anything?" he asked incredulously. "Malfoy may not like his father or Voldemort but he hates us… especially me."

Hermione released a strange noise and they looked at her. She blushed and motioned to Harry.

"Sorry, Harry, but I don't think Remus had you in mind when he was thinking of approaching Malfoy."

Ron frowned.

"Then who?"

Hermione shrugged and moved past them into her bedroom.

"I don't know, but I'd prefer not to think about it anymore," she said, sitting down on her bed and picking up a book. "Spending so much time thinking about Malfoy is starting to give me a headache."

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance before Ron pulled a face and sat down beside Hermione, surprising her a little and causing her to blush even more.

"I wonder what Ginny's doing."

Harry's eyes glazed over slightly before he shrugged and sat down in a chair.

"Probably going off her rocker by now," he muttered. "It's been at least six weeks since we left the Burrow and time for school is a few weeks away."

"Gin knew we wouldn't be around too much this summer," Ron responded. "We've been busy."

Hermione glanced up at Ron.

"No, Harry has been busy," she corrected. "You and I were busy the first couple of weeks, but they've been spending more time with Harry than any of us."

"You'd think they'd want us out of here by now," Ron muttered, leaning towards Hermione to see what she was reading. Her cheeks were practically in flames by now, but she did not let on that his proximity was affecting her. She just bit her lip and motioned to Harry.

"Leaving Harry by himself is possibly the worst decisions they could make at this point," she remarked and Harry frowned.

"I can survive without you two," he said defensively and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Harry, I'm perfectly aware of how capable you are, but what I meant was that you shouldn't be forced to be alone when Ron and I are willing to be here." She sniffed and looked down at her book. "Taking on Death Eaters by yourself is noble, Harry, but it's not particularly bright," she added, hinting at an incident that had occurred late in their sixth year. Harry became silent at the comment and just watched Hermione for a moment, noticing how red her face was getting as Ron continued to lean into her to scan over her book. He could not help but smile at this, knowing very well that Ron was oblivious to his affect on her and vice versa. It had been a while since he had noticed their growing attraction to each other, but he had only approached Hermione about it, knowing that Ron would reject the notion and deny any romantic feelings about his female friend. Hermione, on the other hand, had reluctantly confessed that her feelings for Ron were much stronger than they had been in previous years, but she had no intention of pursuing any relationship at the present time until he acknowledged his feelings as well.

Harry snorted.

Like that would ever happen.

Not that Harry was interested in seeing them get together any time soon. He may not have liked what Hermione had said about him, but he knew she was right about one thing. He would need the both of them in the upcoming months when they returned to Hogwarts and he was not necessarily sure how he would feel if they started spending more time with each other rather than helping him. Especially since he currently had no one of his own.

Not that he wished to get back together with Ginny Weasley. He had made sure to close that chapter in his life and while his feelings for her were still rather strong, he would not put himself, her or her family through the pain of making her an even bigger target. Harry was fine with remaining friends with the youngest Weasley as long and she had expressed similar feelings when they had called it quits.

"Ron, you're breathing down my neck," Hermione snapped uncomfortably, drawing Harry out of his revere. Ron mumbled some sort of an apology and stood up, going to sit down on the other side of the bed. Harry could see that Hermione was upset with how far he had moved, but she did not say anything. Instead she just went back to her book, but he could tell that she was no longer reading it. Her eyes frequently moved up to Ron and a frown would fall upon her lips, but when she saw Harry staring at her, she shifted awkwardly and fixed her eyes determinedly on her book. Not catching any of this, Ron turned to Harry.

"How about a game of chess?" he suggested and Harry shrugged, checking his watch.

"We've nothing to do for a couple of hours. I suppose," he agreed and Ron left the room to get his set. Harry glanced over at Hermione and smiled. "You're neck okay Hermione?"

Her eyes widened and she threw a pillow at him.

"Stop it, Harry," she snapped. "It's not funny."

"You're still beet red, Hermione," he pointed out and she gasped, placing her hands over her cheeks and releasing a groan.

"Oh I must look a mess!" she complained. "Do you think he noticed? Oh, of course he didn't, the oaf. He never notices anything."

"Who never notices anything?" Ron asked as he came back into her room and set the chess game out on a table. Hermione rolled her eyes and got up, walking out the room.

"No one," she muttered before uttering a few less than appropriate comments as she left. Ron frowned, turning to Harry.

"What's got her wand in a twist?" he asked and Harry shook his head, a smile on his face.

"Nothing, Ron. Nothing at all."