It is our choices that show what we truly are.

Disclaimers – They're not necessary. If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be posting this on FF.N.

Chapter Two

If Thine Enemy

Miles away, Draco felt a sudden chill down his spine. He didn't find it odd, though, because it was getting late.

Getting late, getting dark, getting very very cold.

Too cold for July, anyway.

Draco stumbled over his own feet and told himself it was a stone. He had been walking for hours and was so tired he was thinking about considering deciding whether to take a nap on the side of the road. He glanced down at the grass, up at the house, and over at the… wait. A house?

A house! Sweet refuge from the frost of the night!

Too exhausted to be haughty, Draco sauntered over to the door and rapped on it. No answer. He knocked again.

"Just a MINUTE!" yelled a voice from somewhere inside, and then he heard the sound of someone running down steps. Finally! Visions of pillows lurched crazily inside Draco's head.

The door swung open, and Draco put on his friendliest smile as he found himself face to face with…

Ron Weasley.

Just his luck.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Harry and Hermione climbed down the stairs, not yet noticing Ron standing shocked at the door.

"Who is it, Ron?" called Harry.

Ron demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"How hospitable," muttered Hermione. "Whoever is he talking to?"

They came up behind Ron, looked out the door, and almost died of surprise.

"What are you doing here?" queried Harry.

"Exactly," Hermione chipped in.

"That's kind of what I'm wondering," drawled Draco. "I'm a bit out of my way, Weasley. I was looking for somewhere to spend a night, but…" He trailed off as he realised that the redheaded boy he was looking at was more wizard than he was. Even Granger, whose parents were both Muggles, at least knew them

"But what?" asked Ron suspiciously.

"I'm tired. Could I, er, stayheretonight. And which way is London?"

"You… ah, you're a long way from London." Ron paused. "Come in. I'll ask my mom if you can stay."

Draco stepped into the warm kitchen and almost smiled despite himself. He hadn't realised just how cold and anxious he was until relief came. Ron went to find his mother, giving Harry and Hermione a concerned look before he left, and the other three sat down around the table. Draco bit his lip and suddenly felt very unwelcome, though the expressions on Harry and Hermione's faces were more of puzzlement than antipathy. Normally he would have thrown a few insults at everyone to establish his dominance over the situation, but suddenly the Malfoy bravado seemed to have left him. Somehow he didn't feel comfortable calling Hermione a Mudblood anymore.

He tried polite conversation instead.

"So, er… bit cold, eh?"

"Yeah…" said Harry, looking suspicious. He seemed willing to see what was going on, though. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Okay…" said Hermione. "So what are you going to London for? Can you tell us that?"

He realised he could. "I'm going to buy my things for school."

Harry wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Walking?"

Draco glared at him.

"Okay, okay, I won't ask." Harry noticed the certain lack of the usual contempt in Draco's look, though.

Mrs. Weasley scurried into the room. "You're Lucius Malfoy's son?" Ignoring Draco's sudden look of panic, she went on, "Well, no matter if your father doesn't get along with my husband, if you're in trouble, you can stay here as long as you want. Right, Ginny?" She whirled around and gave her a stern look.

Ginny, who had just entered the room, looked rather torn but nodded anyway. George and Fred came down the stairs and stopped short, staring at Draco. Ron stood off to the side, trying to convince himself that Draco wasn't going to kill him during the night.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," crooned Draco, feeling rather bad now about all the things he'd said about her family and hoping she didn't remember.

"Of course, dear, of course. Now go on, all of you. My, I've got a fifth of all the sixth years right here in my house. You can sleep in Ron's room with the other two, Draco. Off with you all! I've got washing up to do out here, and unless you want to help you'll be in the way. Off!" Mrs. Weasley seemed to be able to talk faster than even Ginny on a sugar rush. She shooed them all away.

As the five youngest trooped up the stairs, Harry could hear Fred and George in the kitchen trying to convince their mother that she'd just made a mistake. "Don't you remember him, mum? – He's that boy who always insults everybody! – First day of school, he told Harry to stay away from our family – and he calls Hermione a Mudblood! All the time! – nastiest kid you'll ever meet – probably gets it right off his father – going to be a death eater, I swear - you don't want him under the roof…"

"Nonsense, boys, give him a chance. If he turns out to be a problem, we can feed him to that dragon you've been pretending you don't have."

"We don't have a dragon…" started Fred. George hit him in the ribs and he stopped.

"Then what is it that you do have?" insisted their mother.

They left quickly, without an argument.

Everyone else pretended they hadn't heard.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

The four of them stood uncomfortably around Ron's room, looking at the floor, the walls, the window - everything but each other.

"So… " somebody said.

Draco was examining the room, peering at the Quidditch posters and fiddling with Ron's things. "It's not that bad."

Ron looked very offended, and Draco amended, "I'm sorry. Arrogance is a hard thing to temper." Ron almost offered a retort before realising it wasn't appropriate.

Hermione appeared impressed at his newfound quasi-modesty. "Better, Malfoy. You're not quite good. But better."

He flinched. "Don't call me Malfoy. Just… don't. And I never wanted to be good like The Boy Who Was Made A Superstar here."

"So what are we supposed to call you? Ferret?" Harry seemed to amuse himself.

'Ferret' didn't seem a viable option. "My name is Draco," he said testily.

"Okay, Draco," said Hermione.

"Sure, Draco," said Ron.

"Draco," said Harry, testing it out. It felt funny to call him by a familiar name.

"Right. Hermione, Ron, Harry. Now that we're on a first name basis, is it time for bed? I've been exerting myself more than a highborn wizard should have to." He lifted his chin and dared them to challenge him.

They were feeling sleepy anyway. "Right, I'm off," said Hermione, and went off to sleep in Ginny's room for the night.

Ron and Harry grumblingly fetched some blankets while Draco stared out the window moodily. They all settled down around the room, Harry insisting on Ron having the bed mostly to keep Draco from taking it. They drifted off.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

Ron was roused while it was still dark by an owl knocking on his window. He stepped over Harry to let it in. The owl dropped the letter it was carrying on Ron's bed and sipped briefly from Pigwidgeon's water bowl before taking off again. Ron shut the window before the cold could wake the others.

He opened the letter. "Draco," it began. Ron closed it quickly. He couldn't read this. It would be an invasion of privacy. But who ever expected privacy in a house that had housed nine people, a noisy ghoul and who-knew-what else? Besides, there might be something interesting. What if Draco was running from the law, or was planning a massacre, or a wild party!

That's it, it's my duty to open it, he thought. Making sure Draco was still sleeping like a baby, Ron gave in to his curiosity and unrolled the parchment.

Draco, darling,

I'm very sorry about the whole mess. I never dreamed that things would turn out this way. I don't know if you want an explanation but if you ask, I will give it to you.

Lucius is in a mad fury as always, the Miinistry is investigating the manor, the house-elves are slacking in their duties, and I miss you, my son. I hope you are well, wherever you are.

I've sent your train ticket to Hogwarts and a key to your trust fund. I will try to make sure Lucius doesn't close it, but just in case, I recommend that you withdraw money soon.

Love,

Mother

What sort of trouble was Draco in? What sort of trouble were the rest of them in?! Ron looked at Draco – who was no longer sleeping, but standing menacingly over Ron.

He didn't speak for a long moment, and when he did his voice was cold. "Is that mine?"

Ron nodded numbly.

"Did you read it?"

Ron shook his head stupidly, hoping Draco would want to read the letter enough to forego beating him up.

Draco snatched the parchment from Ron, looking peculiarly like Snape confiscating things from Gryffindors in Potions class. Draco read the letter quickly, managing to look infuriated, heartbroken and bewildered all at the same time.

Draco looked at Harry sleeping on the floor. Then he looked at Ron and said, with a frightened lump in his throat, "Do you know what this is about?"

Ron truthfully said no this time, and Draco seemed to believe him. "Then don't try to find out. And don't tell anyone. It's no one else's business." He slipped a couple of things from the letter to his pocket and pointed his wand at Ron's throat to reinforce this.

Ron glared at him. How dare a guest threaten him in his own home! The wand did the trick though, and Ron swore secrecy.

Not from Harry and Hermione, though. They didn't count as "everyone else." Besides, they had to live with Malfoy too.

Ron shuddered at the thought of living with Malfoy. Well, it seemed the little lost boy wasn't living with anyone else.

= = = = = = = = = = = =

When everyone woke at last, the sun was up. Harry prodded Ron, dropped a pillow on Draco's head, dressed quickly and ran downstairs for breakfast. The others followed.

Hermione met the boys on the steps. Draco looked worn-out and worried, as if he hadn't gotten much sleep, but the other three were well-rested. They were all excited because it was the last day of July, and Harry's sixteenth birthday.

Today they were going to go to Diagon Alley to get their school things, and then they were going for a foray into the Muggle world to celebrate Harry's birthday. Mr. Weasley was bursting with delight about interacting with so many Muggles. Hermione was somewhat worried that he was going to give them away.

Mrs. Weasley had made a huge chocolate cake for Harry's birthday. Fred and George had decorated it, and opted to replace candles with a variety of fireworks. The six Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and Draco gathered around the kitchen table to watch the show. George set the cake alight, and after a brief but dazzling glow, the fireworks went off and ricocheted around the room. It was fabulously bright and loud and lasted for so long that they were beginning to think they might starve, so they started cutting the cake by the light of the firecrackers.

The cake was delicious and the nine of them made short work of it. They talked all the while: Fred and George chattering away about their latest invention (they wouldn't tell anyone exactly what it was, but it sounded terribly exciting), Ginny and Mr. Weasley fabulously delighted about going to see the Muggle world ("Muggles! All over the place! Just think of it! We shall have to be careful not to give ourselves away, like spies!"), Mrs. Weasley planning the trip to Diagon Alley ("we'll have to get some new robes for Ginny, she's getting taller all the time, and all those books… well, we can split up this way…"). Ron, Harry, Hermione and Draco were getting along fairly well for being sworn enemies.

Draco was beginning to feel less out-of-place, although he was still worried about what was to happen to him. He needn't have worried. Mrs. Weasley was quite pleased to have him living in her house, even if the rest weren't, and he would be quite welcome until the school term began. Draco had not yet learned that in the Burrow, what Mum said went.

As soon as they finished the cake, Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and sent the dishes to wash themselves in the sink. Mr. Weasley got the flowerpot full of Floo powder out. "Who wants to go first?"

"Remember the magic words, Harry," smirked Fred, who had never forgotten that Harry's first trip using the stuff had sent him into Knockturn Alley, and was frankly still quite jealous about it. Harry elbowed him in the ribs. Draco didn't know about that mishap, and Harry wanted it to stay that way.

"Fred," his mother warned, looking murderous. Fred suddenly had an intense desire to get to Diagon Alley. He went first. Throwing down the powder, he yelled "Diagon Alley!" and disappeared in a flash of fire.

George followed him, then went Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Mr. Weasley said merrily, "Well, boys, who's next?

Harry said, "He can go first."

Draco looked as if an idea had just struck him. "No, you go first, Harry," he said.

The idea that had happened to Draco was this: if he was going to be living with these people for a month, and if they were taking him to Diagon Alley, and giving him food and being kind to him, maybe he should try to be nice. He certainly didn't like them - they were all annoying and not terribly clever, with the exception of Hermione who made up for that by being arrogant about it, and their style lacked quite a lot - but they could be worse.

Harry didn't expect Draco to be thinking this - to tell the truth, neither did Draco - and took Draco's sudden change of attitude as suspicious. Though not correct, this was a credit to Harry, as Draco acting oddly usually meant bad things. He didn't see how he could call Draco on it with Mr. Weasley standing right there waiting for them to go, though, so he offered a slightly bitter "thank you," climbed into the fireplace, threw down a bit of Floo powder and yelled "Diagon Alley!"