A/N: This is set the day Harry arrives at 12 Grimmauld Place in the Summer before his 5th year, during Order of The Phoenix. It starts as all the kids head up to bed after Sirius tells them a bit about what the order and Voldemort are doing.
I apologise for anything out of place in the timeline, I think I've got everything right but you never know. The same goes for spelling/grammatical errors.
This was originally posted on Wattpad by me, under the name cupackegracieeeeeee. Other than this authors note I haven't changed anything but if you'd prefer to read it on their your welcome to.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.
I do, however, own this fic. Feel free to adapt it as long as you credit me and the original story. Alright then, let's get started!
Harry walked up the rickety stair case and up to the room he and Ron shared. After some discussion about the information they had just learnt, the lights were turned out. He had been laid in bed for just a few minutes, contemplating what Sirius had let slip, when he heard a quiet tapping at the window. It had been going on for quite some time now, muffled by Ron's loud snores.
Pushing the ratty covers off himself, Harry climbed wearily from the bed. It creaked loudly under his weight and he heard Ron stir slightly before resuming his usual snores. He unlatched the window and it swung wide open. A black eagle owl perched on the ledge, a letter tied to its leg. Harry let him sit in Hegwig's cage as he opened the letter, the front of which said Harry Potter in neat cursive.
Potter,
I know you'll think this is some stupid prank, but I need your help. When you read my name signed at the bottom you'll probably toss this into the bin without a second thought. I'm basically relying on your obsession with saving people to convince you to carry on reading. I implore you to listen to your hero complex, because it's not wrong; I do need saving.
Harry scowled down at the letter, annoyed by the insult in both the implication that he wouldn't save the sender of the letter, and that he would. He skipped to the end in miffed confusion, where it was signed in swirling handwriting:
Yours sincerely,
Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy? Why would Malfoy be sending him a letter? Still, he read on, curious to what the bastard had to say,
As you know, the Dark Lord regained his body last June, subsequently 'coming back to life' as you would call it. I assume you must also have realised that he has not spent these past two months sitting idly by. He has been recruiting followers and is gaining more power and influence with every coming day. As you again know, my parents stand by him. I do not. Before you go running off to Dumbledore, you must know that I- and possibly my mother and father too- will die if it were found out that I had been in contact with you. The Dark Lord is not known for forgiveness nor mercy.
I don't know why I am writing to you, it's probably a terrible idea. There's nothing you could do to help anyway, even if you don't expose me. Just tell me you at least have a plan. I don't think I can stand this much longer, I'll do anything to make it stop. There's not much you could do to help me, but I can help you. Let me help you. I swear I'm not lying. I want him gone.
Harry stared back at the letter in shock. Malfoy had betrayed Voldemort. Not just that though, he'd betrayed his parents, his family and his friends too. He wanted to work with the Order. He was risking everything sending Harry that letter. It was only right to reply,
Malfoy,
He began. No, it didn't seem right to call him that, not after everything he had just confided in Harry. He started again,
Draco,
You are right when you say I don't know how to help. I don't even know how to respond. But I do know that any information you can find out would be extremely well appreciated by myself and everyone here, as long as you aren't finding it at the expense of your own life, of course. Do not take too many risks, it is like you said: Voldemort is not a man known to forgive and forget.
Harry Potter.
Ps, I swear if your bullshitting me and this is some sort of joke or a way of gathering intel for Voldemort you're beyond dead. Just saying.
Harry's messy scrawl appeared almost unreadable when placed next to the loopy cursive Draco wrote with, just as Harry's rushed, slightly baffled letter paled in comparison to Draco's. Still, he tied his response to the leg of the eagle owl and sent him back into the night.
He hung his head out of the window for a while, already beginning to feel cooped up in the dark, dingy house. He gazed out at a vast expanse of inky black filled with glinting stars, pondering Draco's motives in sending the letter. It was beginning to dawn on him just how close the war really was. He always knew he would have to face Voldemort, but he never realised it would be so soon. After reading Draco's letter and seeing the Order of the Phoenix, he knew it wouldn't be long. Everyday the death toll grew higher, the dangers drew closer, unbeknownst to the public, war had already begun.