Title: Redeemable

Authoress: Sakuri

Rating: T (for now)

Summary: Beginning with yet another futile attempt at improving inter-House relations at Hogwarts, Harry soon finds himself the victim of a miscast and mysterious curse which results in him being inexorably bonded to Draco Malfoy, who in turn is on the fast track to becoming the junior Death Eater Harry always knew him to be... HPDM slash.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one

Chapter 10: Morals.

---

Harry stepped unsteadily out of the fireplace on Snape's heels and winced slightly as a flare of headache caught him off guard. He dismissed it quickly, since the pain didn't come from his scar, and busied himself looking around, somewhat surprised to see how crowded the room he'd entered was. The last time he'd been here, Grimmauld Place had been much quieter, inhabited only by Sirius, Kreacher and the occasional visitor.

Now, it bustled. He saw a dozen faces he recognised and many more he didn't, all of them talking and even laughing. He saw Tonks and Moody standing near each other, the former chattering at a rapid pace as her hair continuously altered shade, while the latter cast her exasperated glances, his magical eye swivelling in annoyance. Kingsley was present, looking slightly separate from the others, exuding a sense of formality as always.

McGonagall had already arrived, and Snape moved to join her. He appeared to mutter something to her which earned a frown from the Scotswoman. Before she could respond, however, Remus emerged from the cluster of Order members and joined the two Professors.

Harry cast his eyes about in search of someone he could go talk to. Momentarily caught up in memories of Grimmauld Place, he half expected to see Sirius. It took him aback to realise he wouldn't, and he stood a moment as the pit of his stomach turned cold.

A flash of orange at the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned just in time to be met with the familiar but unexpected sight of Fred and George Weasley.

He blinked at them in astonishment as they converged on him, grinning widely and clapping him simultaneously on each shoulder.

"Harry! How've you been, mate?" asked one of them cheerily. He thought it was George.

"Uhm, good," he answered automatically. "What are you both doing here? Isn't this an Order meeting?"

The other twin beamed. "Sure is. What, dear brother, would that imply to you?"

"Well, Fred, since only Order members attend Order meetings..."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "You?! You two are Order members?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Does Ron know about this?"

Fred sighed mournfully. "No, unfortunately. Mum said we couldn't –"

"– tell, in case ickle Ronikins got jealous. Of course –"

"– we're relying on you, Harry, to let this little secret slip."

George grinned wickedly, his expression perfectly contradicting the angelic tone of voice he used as he said, "Doesn't do for brothers to keep secrets, now, does it?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "You're both cruel," he informed them, amused. He knew exactly how that revelation would go over with his redheaded friend. Ron would hit the ceiling, thoroughly unhappy with the notion that he was being left out. Ginny wouldn't be too happy either, he realised as an afterthought.

"No, but seriously," he went on, "how come you're here? I mean, what do you... do?"

Fred placed a hand over his heart. "Harry, I'm hurt. You don't think we can be useful? Helpful?"

The Gryffindor folded his arms and looked deadpan. Of all the words he might have used to describe the Weasley twins, 'helpful' wasn't one of them.

George chuckled. "Okay, okay. Let's just say that the Order finally came to its senses and recognised –"

"– our unique talents," Fred finished triumphantly. "Just think, Harry. If You Know Who ever finds out our war effort is using products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he'll up and have a coronary. You may never have to face him again!"

George looked at his brother sharply. "Ooh. Good idea, that. We should bring it up at the meeting."

Fred nodded sagely.

Harry, feeling thoroughly lost, stared at them in confusion. "They're using your... products? As in... your jokes and stuff?"

One of the brothers held up a hand. "Well. Kind of. They're using alterations of our products, or things they commission. Y'know, things we can't really sell to the public but which are very handy to a war movement."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Obviously..." he muttered faintly.

George began ticking things off on his hand. "Extendable Ears are in very high demand, for one. They're better than eavesdropping spells in some cases, because you can disguise their magic, and it's not as easily disrupted. Uhm, what else..."

"The Smoke Bombs," Fred chimed in helpfully. "Pop one of those off in a room full of Death Eaters and they'll be so blind they'll end up hexing each other by accident. Doesn't clear for ten minutes, and there's no counter spell. They're proving very useful in raids."

"Moody and Tonks said they're going to recommend their use to the Ministry, for the Aurors."

Harry was impressed. He continued to listen as the twins rattled off a list of their inventions and the various uses the Order was putting them to, some of which were highly creative. He found himself inordinately glad the twins were here. When he'd first entered and surveyed the room, he'd felt distinctly like the only kid in a room full of adults, out of his depth. But finding Fred and George here, friends close to his own age, he was more at ease. They were listened to, apparently respected, given a purpose. He hoped that boded well for his own presence here, hoped he wouldn't be dismissed as a child to be sent from the room while adults talked.

"Don't forget the Morpheus Mints," George was saying proudly. "They're the newest addition to our arsenal."

Harry blinked. "What are they?"

"Glad you asked!" Fred cried excitedly, rummaging in his pocket and extracting a handful of tiny white tablets. "Very inconspicuous, as you can see. Come in pepper- or spearmint, whatever your preference."

"Basically," George continued, "they're sleeping tablets. Very potent, though. Instantaneous."

"Why not just use a spell?"

"Well, for one they last longer. And of course there's no counter. Just gotta wait until they wear off. Can't be traced in the bloodstream, either, and don't leave a magical signature."

Harry was beginning to notice a trend in the twins' explanations. More than once they'd pointed out the importance of their inventions leaving no trace of magic. He was starting to wonder why this was such a priority, and was about to ask when a voice cut across their conversation.

"There the two of you are!"

They turned in time to see Mrs Weasley hurrying towards them, holding a stack of six or seven thick books in her arms and attempting to peer over the top of them.

George sighed. "She's been tidying again. That means –"

The books were shoved into his arms, knocking the breath from him as they collided with his chest. Fred chuckled at his brother, only to be quickly shut up as his mother flicked her wand over her shoulder, and another stack of books which had been floating obediently behind her zoomed forward. He caught them with a grunt, wincing.

She rubbed her hands together, removing the dust. "Now, I want you to take these up to the library on the third floor. Don't just put them anywhere, mind. There's –" She stopped, catching sight of the third teenager. "Harry! Oh dear. Oh. I'd completely forgotten you were coming today..."

"Uh, hi Mrs Weasley."

She seemed to regain herself. "It is good to see you, dear. But you're always so thin. Why don't I make you something while you're here?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "You're not here to cook, woman! This is war!"

She levelled a glare at him and pointed wordlessly towards the stairs.

The twins, in sync, lowered their heads dejectedly and turned to follow her directions. Over his shoulder, George called, "Coming Harry?"

Harry hesitated, looking around and wondering if he'd miss anything if he went with the brothers.

Mrs Weasley smiled. "Things won't start for a while yet. We're still waiting on people. Besides, you'll be called if the meeting begins while you're upstairs."

"Thanks," Harry said with a smile, and hurried to follow the brothers.

---

Harry had never visited the library in Grimmauld Place. He'd known of its existence from his time spent there, but never had a reason to explore it.

The room was bigger than he'd expected. In fact, he wondered if it had been enchanted to appear larger on the inside. As he stood at its centre, looking up in wonder at the massive shelves all around him, the high ceiling, the long isles formed by the books, he realised it should be impossible for the house to contain any such space. And yet here it was.

"Shocking, isn't it," Fred commented as he passed, moving to place his pile of books on a nearby table. "Who knew a secret order could be so boring?"

"I had no idea this place was here," Harry admitted. "God, Hermione would be in heaven." He moved towards a bookshelf, eying some of the titles. Some, he realised quickly, were actually written in Latin, and he wondered in surprise how old they were. Of the ones he could read, the common topic appeared to be Dark magic. Troublingly, a few appeared to contain instructions on how to use it, and from these he could even sense a faint glimmer of foreboding magic. He assumed these were possessions of the Black family. Most, however, were books of Defence, detailing counter curses and healing spells at length. He knew instinctively that these were books dealing with a higher grade of magic than anything found at Hogwarts.

"So Harry," Fred stated, recapturing his attention. "How are you and our dear sister getting along these days?"

Harry blinked, unsure how to respond. He wasn't used to being checked up on. Ron would never ask that question, preferring to pretend the whole situation wasn't happening rather than acknowledge that his friend and sister might have something between them that was more than platonic.

"She is a lot to handle," George was saying knowingly. "We've been wondering if you're up to the challenge."

"I... Uhm... we're fine."

"Good to hear, good to hear! No arguments of late then? Everything going smoothly?"

"Well..." Harry paused, tripped up by the strong sensation of being interrogated. All of a sudden, all he could think about was his own irrational irritation with Ginny, the various bickering fights they'd had, and what he'd decided was his own aversion to commitment.

His expression must have showed something of his thoughts, however, for the twins' mock sternness dropped away, and George placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Harry, relax! We're only playing."

"None of our business, that's for sure," Fred added, smiling.

Harry tried to laugh, brush the moment off as they had done. But he felt his casualness was strained, and so, apparently, did they.

George jerked his head towards the door. "Come on. Let's go see if this thing's ready to go yet."

Relieved, Harry moved to follow him. He rubbed his eyes, behind which pain flickered on and off. But as they reached the hallway, the twins stopped to look at him intently.

"I know our Gin, Harry," George said, sounding remarkably serious for once. "Don't let her... go too far. Don't let her bully you into anything. And the same goes for –"

"– Ron. He can be a right git when he wants to be," Fred confided. "And he's always been biased when it comes to Ginny."

Harry nodded hesitantly, still trying to decide what, exactly, they were warning him of.

"Boys!" Mrs Weasley's voice rang up the stairs. "Hurry up!"

"Duty calls," George said, winking.

"We have a war to fight, don't you know?" Fred added, and together they escorted Harry to his first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

---

"We had some our best experts examining the wards on Malfoy Manor," Kingsley was saying in his calm, confident voice. No matter that he was talking about Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort, Harry thought his quiet baritone was just naturally reassuring. "From a safe distance of course, out of range of detection. No good came of it, however. I'm afraid that, for the moment, the protection around the Dark Lord and his headquarters remains impenetrable."

Next to the Gryffindor, George snorted and muttered loudly, "Good job, too. What were they planning if they did break it? Shove Harry through the door with a quick, 'Good luck kiddo!'...?"

Mrs Weasley glowered furiously, leaning forward to glare down the long table they were all gathered around. Harry ducked his head, embarrassed, as the other adults turned their attention on him, some looking sheepish, others merely quizzical.

The meeting had been in progress for a good half an hour, so far, and Harry had been mostly silent. He was content to listen and absorb the information being bandied back and forth between the adults. Besides, a sudden shyness had come over him, and he couldn't have contributed much to the conversation if he'd wanted to.

"Anyway," Kingsley went on, with a stern glance for the twins. "Though the Order is almost positive that the Dark Lord has taken refuge within the Manor, we cannot prove it short of forcing Veritaserum down Lucius Malfoy's throat."

Some distance to Harry's left, Moody grumbled deep in his throat. "Some of us wouldn't be too averse to that option, I don't mind mentioning..."

"That may be, but I'm afraid it wouldn't hold up with the Ministry. Malfoy is being extraordinarily careful to cover his tracks this time. He still appears in public as if he has nothing to hide. His business contacts and allies in the Ministry itself seem somehow untouched, despite his stay in Azkaban."

"Hn," Moody grunted. "Evil never dies..."

"I do hope you're wrong, Alastor," murmured Dumbledore, who had arrived at the house while Harry had been upstairs. "The point is, we are currently unable to prove any wrongdoing on Lucius's part. Perhaps if we were, it might be possible to weaken Tom's stronghold at the Manor. That is obviously his refuge, and if it were suddenly confiscated right out from under him..."

"Easier said than done," Kingsley responded, shaking his head. "Even discounting the wards placed on the Manor through Dark magic, the Malfoy heritage is something to be reckoned with. You might recall that even when Lucius was imprisoned, the Ministry had no authority over the Manor and were unable to seize it. It's all tied up with inheritance and blood magic."

"What about Draco?"

Harry didn't realise he was going to say the words until they were out of his mouth. He bit his lip in surprise and heat flooded his cheeks as all eyes turned on him. It was as if the name had simply sprung to the fore of his mind and he'd been compelled to speak the errant thought aloud. But no, he realised vaguely that he'd been thinking of the Slytherin from the first moment the name 'Malfoy' had been mentioned.

Dumbledore peered at the Gryffindor from across the table. "What about young Mr Malfoy, Harry?"

His embarrassment doubled as it occurred to him that he had no answer to that. He'd spoken impulsively, and wasn't even sure why. "Uhm, I'm not really sure, Professor. Just that you said blood magic. I mean, couldn't you use Malfoy in some way...?"

"Don't be a fool, Potter," came Snape's scornful hiss. Harry looked towards the Potions Master, where he sat next to Remus. "Let's say we were willing to throw morality aside and put the son in danger simply to get at the father –"

"Oh, don't start that!" Moody interrupted, earning himself an incredulous glare from the younger wizard. "You make it sound like Malfoy Junior would be an innocent victim in all this. Ah, I tell you he's a Death Eater in the making if I ever saw one. Harry's got good instincts. Could be the basis of a plan, that..."

"It would never work," Kingsley chipped in, sounding regretful. "If you're right, and Draco Malfoy intends to follow the Dark Lord in the war, he would doubtlessly find some way of warning Lucius if we involved him in anything. And that, in turn, would only mean we've lost the element of surprise."

"But –"

"Enough!"

They all jumped in shock as Dumbledore's command boomed throughout the room. The Headmaster had risen to his feet and was regarding them all sternly over the top of his spectacles. He did not look impressed.

"Enough," he said again. "Listen to what you're saying. Has there not been enough manipulation of children in recent times? Are we to stoop to the same tricks as Voldemort and his Death Eaters?"

They were silent, perhaps quelled by the sound of the Dark Lord's name, or perhaps by the sensation of shame Dumbledore's words carried.

"No," the Headmaster answered himself. "We will find some other way. Now. Let's hear the other reports. Remus?"

Harry tuned in and out of Remus's account of his stay with a werewolf pack up in Chester. Instead, his mind seemed caught up in the previous conversation, preoccupied with the idea of the Slytherin. He had no idea why Malfoy was playing on his thoughts so much, but supposed it must be due to the strangeness of hearing him and his family discussed in the formal context of an Order meeting. It felt weird.

Absently, he placed a hand over his stomach and tried not to grimace. He wondered if he was coming down with a bug, because not only had his mild headache increased to a stabbing pain behind his eye, he was suddenly feeling violently nauseas. He hoped fervently he wasn't going to be sick, and thought wryly that that would be just the perfect lasting impression to make at his first meeting...

---

Draco practically fled the Charms classroom as soon as he was able. He bolted through the corridors, for once not caring to maintain his public appearance of calm dignity. Down the stairs, through the dungeons and into his common room he pelted. He reached the Slytherin bathrooms just in time to purge the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

A migraine had already taken root, so severe and sudden that he actually found himself gritting his teeth to keep in a scream. On his knees, the tremors of sickness passing through him, Draco groaned and lowered his head into his hands.

It was the curse, he was sure. Potter must have gone somewhere outside of the school to bring the symptoms on so swiftly, as they'd only just seen each other that morning. Where the hell had he disappeared to?!

A new worry was beginning to form in Draco's mind, one which he didn't like to contemplate too deeply, and yet couldn't help doing so.

If Potter's physical distance brought on the sickness so strongly, what happened if... well, if he went too far away...? Would it get worse the further apart they were? And how far was too far, exactly?

Draco didn't know, and didn't want to. His father had never explained this little aspect of the curse! What if Potter suddenly took it into his empty head to go abroad, Merlin forbid! If his current reaction was anything to judge by, he was beginning to wonder if he'd even survive such a separation.

He decided he couldn't afford the luxury of finding out. He'd just have to complete his mission quickly if he was going to avoid suffering like this every time one of them left the school.

Red droplets speckled the white tiles beneath him, and he realised belatedly his nose was bleeding. In that moment, with the migraine driving steely claws into his head and his stomach heaving yet again, Draco had no compunctions in handing Harry Potter over to the Dark Lord.