Hello. I do believe I have outdone myself with this chapter. But that's just my opinion.

Disclaimer: JKR owns all HP related characters and ideas.

Turning Point owns the lyrics to Before the Dawn.

-Katy

***

They say it's always darkest

Before the dawn

It may look bad now

But I'm holding on

To what I have

And what I've earned

I refuse to let that burn

In front of my eyes

I know you think I'm not old enough

To see the wrong and right

Maybe so but I won't throw it all away

Until I gain some insight

I've stumbled and fallen down before

Again I feel myself falling

Please stop I've had enough

Stop I've had enough

-Before the Dawn, Turning Point

***

Draco awoke early the next morning, before the sun had rise, when the sky was at it's darkest, the hours just before dawn. His internal clock told him that it was around five in the morning. Most people wouldn't have been able to get up that early when they were about to become a notorious, and possibly hunted, thief in Muggle London, but Draco was used to strange hours and lack of sleep.

Draco's mind wandered to a time just over a month ago, the darkest time in his life, the last time his father had left him bruised and broken, laying in a puddle of his own blood. Whenever Lucius had been mad at Draco in the past years, which had been often, Lucius would drag Draco out of his bed and down to the dungeons, where Lucius would torture and beat his son until Draco was nearly unrecognizable.

*

That night, Lucius had been in an exceptionally horrible mood and had throttled Draco awake. Draco remembered waking to the feeling of his fathers hands around his throat, shaking him, the smell of alcohol assailing his nostrils.

Draco had felt an icy pain clench around his heart, it was an emotion Draco had rarely ever experienced in 17 years: fear. Draco had jumped out of the bed, running as fast as he could away from his father. Draco had known his father would truly hurt him if Lucius caught him.

Draco had run into the kitchen, busting the door down and frantically searching for somewhere to hide. Seeing nothing, Draco had run into the adjoining hallway. Draco had sprinted down the seemingly endless hallway, his fathers footsteps sounding heavy behind him, nearing with every step he took.

Draco had neared the end of the hallway. His father was even closer. Draco's heart was ramming itself against his ribs, sweat was pouring down his forehead. Draco slid on the elegant, wooden flooring into a nearby room. Draco ran to the window on the other side of the room. He had no idea what room he was in, he hadn't been aware enough to take in his surroundings, he had been too overcome with fear, but he guessed it was one of the rooms that had been untouched since he ancestors had lived in it.

Draco pried the window open with sheer strength. He had almost made it out when he felt a hand grab his shoulder and rip him backwards. Draco went flying across the room, hitting his head on the fireplace he hadn't seen when he entered the room. Draco felt blood on the back of his head, but stood up anyway. It was far from over, the horrors were just beginning. Draco didn't even search for his wand; he knew he had left it, carelessly, when he fled his room. Draco stood and faced his father, staring at Lucius' apathetic face.

His entire life, Draco had been told he looked exactly like his father, like a clone. As Draco stared into his father's cold, uncaring eyes, he hoped more than ever that it wasn't true.

As Draco stared loathingly into his father's eyes, he felt pain stripe across his face. His father had hit him with the cane, Draco assumed. And then, Draco swung his fist at his father. He wasn't going down without a fight. Not this time.

Draco watched as Lucius' eyes widened in surprise as Draco's fist connected with Lucius' jaw, he wasn't used to his son fighting back.

Draco blocked the cane as Lucius swung it towards him once again. Draco grabbed the instrument, which had caused him so much pain, and threw it behind him.

Lucius whipped out his wand and set the Cruciatus curse upon his son. Draco didn't even scream as the pain ripped through his body, a feeling akin to a fire being set to his every nerve ending, he knew the worst was still to come.

After he had stopped writhing on the ground in pain, Draco stood again and roundhouse kicked his father in the chest, sending Lucius flying into the far wall.

Lucius stood, wiping blood and spit off of his mouth, his facial expression murderous. Draco knew he was in deep shit then; he had to get out, or he may not survive the night.

Lucius snatched his wand off the floor and turned towards his son, his entire body a black outline against the moon. Lucius slowly advanced towards Draco, his footsteps quiet, the way he had taught his son years ago.

Draco watched as his father slowly walked towards him, his face invisible, heat and the stench of alcohol radiating off of him. Lucius stopped advancing and stood three feet away from his son. Suddenly, he drew his wand, pointing it at his son's face.

Draco saw a flash of red light and felt pain surge through his body. It was the worst Cruciatus he had ever experienced; his body felt like it had been dipped in alcohol and rubbed with razor blades, every nerve ending felt as if it had been spliced. The pain seemed to last for what felt like eternity, but was really only 30 seconds. As the curse ended, Draco became aware of a voice screaming. His voice.

Draco lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. His chest was heaving, his body limp. He felt as if he would never move again, he wanted to die then and there, yet some part of him already felt like it was dead and buried already.

As Draco stared at the dark emerald ceiling, his body sagging from the pain, his fathers face moved into Draco's line of sight. Draco looked into his father's eyes, which had turned into stone cold orbs, and knew the pain was just beginning.

*

Draco shook himself from the nightmare and shot out of bed. He had been wasting time; he needed to start his day. Draco had a lot to do in a short amount of time.

Draco shrugged on a pair of worn jeans and an old white t-shirt, running down the dark stairs and into the living room. Draco conjured two types of black material: some stretchy, close-fitted material for the tops and stiff, thin leather for the pants.

As Draco sat down to magically create eight sets of clothing, his mind wandered back to that fateful night.

*

He was on the cold, stone floor of the dungeons, writhing in pain, hot blood pouring down his face and over his eyes. His father was standing above him, his cane, covered in Draco's blood, in hand. Lucius brought it down upon his sons back with a loud crash.

A scream escaped Draco's lips as the silver snakehead of the cane was brought down upon his spine. He tried to get up, to stop his father from continuing this, but he was unable to. He was too weak.

The beating continued for several more hours until Draco succumbed to the merciful bliss of unconsciousness.

He awoke three hours later to the feeling of dried blood caked to his face and cold stone under his body. The air was filled with the smell of rust and salt: the smell of blood. His blood.

The room was dark and he had to wait a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. Draco slowly tried to move; his left arm was surely broken, along with three of his ribs and possibly his collarbone. His skull had been cracked, his face and body bruised. He slowly peeled his face off of the blood-covered floor, bringing his right elbow under his body for support. With every movement, his body screamed in torment; he was experiencing pain the likes of which he had never imagined before last night.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour of nonstop pain, Draco had managed to drag himself onto one knee; he was attempting to stand up. Draco had crawled to the edge of the room in order to use the walls as leverage. He was now using one of them to support his entire body weight. Draco sagged against the wall as he finally stood. He felt as if all his energy had been drained, and he still had several flights of stairs to climb.

Draco had eventually made it to the stairs; each step he had taken on his way from the cell had been agonizingly slow and torturous. Draco collapsed on the stone steps, his body sinking into them, his chest heaving from the exertion and pain. He wished someone were around to care, to help him. But he knew there was no one; there had never been anyone. Snape was the only person who had ever cared about him, and he was at Spinner's End doing Merlin knew what.

Draco had always been alone, always left to be the object of his fathers hate and alcohol-induced rages, always left to heal himself and nurse himself back to health while everyone he knew pretended that nothing was wrong.

Draco dragged his broken body up the first step, his bones and muscles protesting at each movement. He ground his teeth, ignoring the worst of the pain as he dragged his own body up the stairs, trying to reach the top of the flight, where the light was.

Draco looked up, past the top step, and saw the outline of the doorway. His father hadn't locked him down in the basement. Lucius had probably been too drunk to think of it.

His hopes renewed, he gnashed his teeth together and started using his broken arm to hold on to the railing while his unhurt arm grabbed onto the step above him and pulled. Using the step as leverage, Draco managed to drag his fractured body over the next stair and the next.

After what felt like years of labor, Draco managed to drag himself into the light. He collapsed in the doorway, feeling as if he would never be able to move again. The light was blinding, but Draco's eyes quickly adjusted to the light. His body sagged into the polished, wood floor from exhaustion. Draco felt as if he would rather be dead than move on, but he had to. He had made it thus far.

Draco put his unbroken arm under himself, pushing off of the floor and dragging his body towards the kitchen, where he knew the house elves would be. Maybe they would help him.

Draco dragged his bloodied body across the room, the expensive oriental rugs and lush carpeting hindering his progress. In that moment, Draco hated his mother's expensive tastes more than he ever had.

After what must have been forty minutes, Draco finally reached the door to the kitchen. He had knocked over several lamps and antiques, yet no one had come to his aid. No one had ever come to his aid.

Draco finally managed to push the kitchen door open with his body and lay sprawled in the center of the expansive prep-kitchen. The stones felt cool on his bruised face. He wasn't sure how long he had been lying there when, finally, mercifully, a house elf wandered upon him.

Draco heard a squeak from above and looked up into a pair of large, blue eyes. Someone had finally come. Draco quickly asked the creature to bring him some dittany and bandages, before collapsing back onto the floor and sinking into blackness.

Draco had awoken some time later to see that he had been dragged into a nearby room and the dittany and bandages lay out before him. Draco looked up to see a sink and a mirror. He was in one of the multitude of bathrooms the Manor possessed.

Draco grabbed onto the sink with his uninjured arm and dragged himself to his feet. It hurt like hell to stand, but he had to look at the damage before he could fix it.

The reflection staring back at him was only a bloody mess. His pale blond hair was nearly completely covered in the dark black color of dried blood. His once straight and perfect nose appeared to be broken, his once flawless skin covered in blue and purple bruises. Surrounding the trademark Malfoy eyes were more bruises, taking away from their beauty immensely. And, for once, Draco felt no smirk around his lips, no pride or narcissism when he looked into the mirror. All he felt was exhaustion.

Healing himself took longer than he had thought. The injuries were more extensive, by far, than what Draco had originally thought. His nose was definitely broken, along with four of his ribs, his left arm and wrist, his right ankle and a few toes. His skull had been cracked in various places, his face and body bruised beyond recognition. When Draco had lifted his shirt to examine his ribs, he had found what appeared to be bruises in the shape of Lucius' fists.

But Draco almost vomited when he saw what had been done to his back. It had taken some maneuvering with the mirrors, but Draco soon discovered where all the blood was coming from. His father had carved the words "Quod pars es vos in? Sumo sapienter, filius" into Draco's right shoulder blade. Draco knew this was the Latin translation of "Which side are you on? Choose wisely, son." Draco had heard Lucius utter this phrase many times over the past few years, both in English and Latin. Draco knew what it meant. His father was threatening him.

*

Draco stopped and examined his work: he had already finished two of the outfits. According to the sun, the time was around eight in the morning. It had only taken him three hours to finish two outfits.

Draco felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his right shoulder blade. Although Draco had made a full recovery from all of his wounds, the bruises had faded, his broken bones mended and set back into place, his damaged nose once again perfect, the scar caused by Lucius' drunken carving had remained on his shoulder. It was permanent.

Draco smirked, the inscription was supposed to scare Draco, to make him stay with his father, but Draco had escaped. He had chosen his side; he had sided with the Order.

Suddenly, Draco heard a creaking on the staircase. He knew immediately that it was Ginny, he could tell by the sound of her footsteps. Draco had always been alone, until he had met Ginny on that night. Little did she know that in saving her, he had also saved himself. She was his savior. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't have started the team; he wouldn't have had a reason to live.

The night Lucius had carved the warning into Draco's shoulder was one of the darkest moments of Draco's life. But saving Ginny and joining the Order had been like a sunrise. It had told him that he could begin again, start over. There was always a tomorrow.

The team and Ginny had been his reasons to get out of bed in the morning, to stay sane. Draco watched as the redhead appeared at the bottom of the stairs and walked towards him. She was fully dressed, her bright hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"You should still be asleep", Draco said, scolding, even though he was happy she was there. "You need to rest before our mission."

"What, like you don't?" Ginny replied.

Draco rolled his eyes and continued working, she was the most stubborn human being he had ever met, excluding himself, even he couldn't convince her otherwise.

"These look nice." Ginny had walked over to his pile of completed outfits and was inspecting them.

"Thanks, I still have six more to do." Draco said, trying not to yawn.

"Need any help? I think I can do this."

Draco looked up, startled. No one had ever offered him help before. Sliding his patented Malfoy mask back into place, Draco replied "Sure. That'd be great."

Draco explained the pattern he was using, but Ginny didn't seem to need it. Of course, Draco thought, with six older brothers, she's probably used to sewing clothing. Together, they sat in silence while they worked.

Finally, Draco broke the silence, not because it was awkward, but because he had to start planning the day.

"Do you want to come with me to scout out the store we're going to rob tonight?" Draco asked, without taking his eyes off of his work.

"Yea, I'll go with you." Ginny said, she hadn't taken her eyes off of her work either.

They both focused on their work until the rest of the Order awoke. It was around nine o'clock. Draco idly wondered why they were waking up so late until he remembered that it was a Saturday. Even the Order slept in on Saturdays.

At around ten, Draco saw Lupin walk down the stairs. The professor walked over to the living room, where Draco and Ginny were sitting alone and collapsed on the couch, looking exhausted.

"You can go back to bed professor, we're not meeting for another 11 hours." Draco said, kindly.

Lupin shook his head, saying '"I would if I could Draco, but it seems I've lost the ability to sleep past 10 a.m. Can I help you with the gear though?"

Draco nodded as Ginny scooted her chair closer to Lupin, explaining how the pattern worked. Draco smiled to himself, after the incident, she'd barely been able to look him, Draco, in the eye and now she was sitting not two feet away from a werewolf. She had healed immensely. But, Draco knew, she still had some more to do. Which was why he was teaching her how to defend herself and rob innocent bystanders. He hoped she would be able to survive on her own, if she ever had the need to.

With the help of Lupin and Bill, who walked down the stairs an hour after Lupin, they finished the gear faster than expected.

As Draco walked around to Tonks', Fred and George's, and Charlie's rooms, he thought about how different his new life was from his old.

In his old, he had been beaten down and no one had come to his aid. He hadn't had a savior, he hadn't had a purpose. Now, he had friends, a purpose, a savior. People came to his aid when he needed it.

Draco handed a sleepy-looking Fred Weasley, his red hair rumpled and dangling in front of his face, his and George's gear, watching as the redhead stumbled around the room, threw the gear onto a chair and collapsed back onto his bed and immediately started snoring. Draco laughed to himself and closed the door before heading back down the stairs.

At the bottom of the staircase stood Ginny Weasley, looking up at him with her brown eyes.

"Ready to go?" She said, smiling up at him.

*

Draco explained what his plan was as they neared muggle London. They were going to pose as muggles shopping for weapons. While Draco was examining the store's weak points and what it carried, Ginny would try to find out what she could about the storeowner.

"Wouldn't it make more sense if we posed as a muggle couple?" Ginny asked. "We could say that you want me to know how to protect myself and that's why we're looking for weapons."

"That's a good idea, nice touch." Draco said. Especially since it isn't entirely a lie, Draco kept the last thought to himself.

Ginny grabbed Draco's hand; they had reached the edge of muggle London. Stores and houses were beginning to pop up around them, the dirt road turning to cobblestone. Draco had explained that they would begin scouting the outskirts and move inwards towards the city.

They had been walking a few minutes when Ginny dragged Draco over to ask for directions. He had protested, saying he didn't need them, but she had insisted; she didn't want to wander aimlessly for the entire day.

The kind woman they had asked had been sweeping the outside of her shop, her frizzy, graying hair escaping from its bun. She had taken one look at Draco and Ginny's clasped hands and smiled widely, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth. Smiling, she told them they could find the nearest weaponry a few blocks away. Ginny smiled and thanked her as they walked away.

The old woman had been right; Draco and Ginny had found the first one easily with her guidance. They stepped into the shop, Ginny explaining that Draco, her boyfriend, wanted a few weapons for her protection, the storeowner smiling at the prospective customers. Ginny struck up conversation with the unsuspecting man as Draco searched his store for valuable weapons and weak points.

After twenty minutes, they left the store, Ginny telling Draco that the man had a wife and kids; he liked to play poker on the weekends with his friends and his store closed at 9 p.m., but he usually left around 10, among other things she had discovered. Draco informed her that though his shop had plenty of weak points, like the lack of security cameras and weak locks, he hadn't found any weapons he particularly liked. This continued for the next four shops.

On their sixth try, they found the one they wanted. Draco and Ginny had walked in, holding hands, the bell above the door tinkling as they opened the door. Ginny had immediately wandered over to the front desk, where the storekeeper, a balding man in his late forties, stood. Ginny had explained their reason for walking into the store, while Draco had wandered harmlessly around the room, inspecting the weaponry and security.

Ginny had struck up a conversation with the man, when she noticed that he kept fidgeting with his wedding band. Underneath the band, the skin was tan. Ginny knew this was what Draco had been waiting for. Ginny tore her eyes away from the man's wedding band and continued the conversation as she watched Draco in her periphery. He had almost finished looking at the store.

As they stepped outside the store, hand in hand, Ginny was bursting to tell Draco what she had noticed, but they had to walk a few blocks before she could. After three blocks had passed, Ginny broke the silence.

"That man is cheating on his wife." Ginny informed Draco bluntly.

"How did you figure that one out?" Draco asked, honestly curious.

"He kept messing with his wedding ring and whenever he moved it, I could see that the skin was tan underneath the band. If you're happily married, you don't take off your wedding band frequently enough for the skin underneath to tan."

"This is good news. I no longer feel bad about robbing him. If he can afford to have a mistress and possibly jeopardize his marriage, then certainly he can afford to lose a few swords, daggers, throwing knives, and bows and arrows. Also, this gives us leverage if he catches us. Which he won't. Excellent find, Gin." Draco said, thoughtfully.

Draco and Ginny then circled the block and headed out of muggle London. On their way out, they stopped by a shoe store and, using money Draco had stolen off of an unsuspecting muggle, bought one pair of soft, black boots for each member of the team. They walked in silence, still holding hands, each lost in their own thoughts about what was to come.

To a stranger, they would appear to be a perfectly normal, happy couple holding hands and window-shopping on a nice fall day. They complemented one another, completed each other. She, short, with her red, warm and fiery hair, he tall and strong with his pale hair and perfected, nearly glacial looks. With his long fingers gently clasping her small ones, they looked like complete opposites, but somehow their polarity was equal perfection and wholeness.

*

They had been on the dirt roads outside of muggle London, surrounded by nothing and no one but trees and meadows, for nearly half an hour before either of them had realized they were still holding hands. Both had been too consumed by their own thoughts and plans, too comfortable with the warmth of the others hand, to notice. It was impossible to tell who let go first, Draco and Ginny both realized and dropped the others hand at the same time and continued walking as if nothing had happened, as if they had felt nothing.

*

They emerged from the woods an hour later, walking around the curve in the road leading to Headquarters and stepping into the sunlight of the clearing. Together, silently, they headed towards the Headquarters. The Order was going about business as usual, as if eight of its members weren't about to become thieves.

Draco checked the position of the sun: it was about 4 in the afternoon; they had nearly four hours to rest. Draco opened the door to Headquarters for Ginny, watching as she stepped over the threshold before following suit. They both immediately headed towards their room; they had already eaten in muggle London. As soon as they were in their room, they both collapsed onto their beds without even bothering to remove their shoes; they'd had a long day. And it wasn't over yet.

*

Draco awoke from his dream, it had been about Ginny's hair, again, and saw that the sun had set. He estimated that it was around seven-thirty. Draco looked over at Ginny's bed to see her asleep. He slipped out of his bed, padding across the room towards Ginny and gently shook the redhead awake.

"Time to steal, Ginny. Get up." Draco said, whispering quietly to her.

Ginny grunted in her sleep and rolled over on her side before Draco's words registered in her mind. As she understood that the time had come for the first mission, Ginny eagerly jumped out of her bed and started searching for her gear.

"Over here, Ginny." Draco said, standing next to their gear, an amused smirk on his face.

Ginny grabbed the black cloth and ran into the bathroom to change. Draco smirked and began to peel off his clothing and replace it with the soft, stretchy black shirt. It clung to his muscles, outlining them in black. It was surprisingly comfortable too. Draco then pulled on the pants. They were semi-tight; not as tight as Draco had seen the muggles wear them in magazines, but not as baggy either.

Draco had just finished buttoning his pants moments earlier, when the bathroom door opened and Ginny stepped out. The black shirt hugged her every curve, the pants tight and ending just above her ankles. Her red hair, accentuated even more by the black she wore, was pulled into a pony tail, some hairs had already come loose. She looked amazing, and Draco couldn't help but feel lustful. Shaking himself, Draco tossed her a pair of the boots they had bought in London. The boots were almost like moccasins, but with soles on the bottom; they were quiet, which was important.

Draco and Ginny walked down the stairs and out to the yard, waiting for the rest of the team to show up. By nine o'clock, the entire team had gathered, along with most of the Order to see them off. Draco looked around at his teams' determined faces and then at the Order.

Draco thought back to how his life had changed so much over the last few months. The muggles had a saying Draco had heard: "It's always darkest before the dawn." Draco smiled, thinking that the metaphor was eerily accurate. His life had been at it's darkest point before he had run away, joined the Order, and saved Ginny. After he had done that, his life had become like a sunrise. Now, his life was dawn. It was morning, he had an entire day ahead of him, to look forward to and he wouldn't waste it.

"We will be back before dawn." Draco said, nodding to the Order, before setting off towards the dirt path, the rest of his team following him into the dark.

***

Review, please!

Special thanks to those who reviewed last time: DemonsInsideMe, OthTwilightHP, Em Red Topaz, maggie1618.

Happy New Year to everyone, and check out chapter 11, which should be up within the next week!

-Katy