The owl dropped the letter on Lucius Malfoy's desk earlier than he expected. When he opened it and scanned the unsigned contents, he let out an evil laugh.

My Lord,

          All proceeds as you ordered. During the trip last weekend, we did as you asked. Enclosed you will find a map detailing the location of the goods. Your packages can be picked up at anytime.

          Malfoy pulled out a quill and responded.

Gentlemen,

          Well done. Our master will be most pleased. If you care to watch, the packages will be picked up from you on Friday. I envy your ability to see it happen.

          Their reward was well-deserved. They had done fine work and would make superb Initiates. His master would indeed be pleased, and he would deal with those muggle-loving Weasleys once and for all.

          Draco watched as Julius MacNair and Christopher Flint, two Slytherin seventh-years, huddled over their letter in front of the fire. He had accidentally seen them open it and recognized his father's handwriting, and now he was curious. They didn't notice him eavesdropping from a well-hidden spot, and the three of them were alone in the common room.

          "You're brother's a genius for letting us in on this," MacNair told Flint. Malfoy knew Marcus Flint had taken service with Voldemort recently.

          "I can't wait. Where d'you reckon we should watch from?"

          "I want to see it all. We should stay out at the Zonko's stash after they take the idiot Weasley twins into custody. That way we can see them find all of it, and make sure no one else stumbles into what we took."

          "When should we go?"

          "If they're takin' the twins Friday, we should plant the map Thursday afternoon. Right after they get taken, we can head down." Flint nodded his agreement. They tossed the letter in the fire and left Draco alone.

          So his father had finally moved to take out the Weasleys. Draco smiled, imagining the look on Lucius' face on Friday. This would be priceless.

          Fire crackled in Grey's hearth. He and Willow rested on a pile of cushions on the floor; he devoured a new mystery novel while Willow graded a stack of Giles' homework assignments.

          "They have some smart kids here," Willow commented, tapping the red pen on her front teeth.

          "That surprises you?"

          "No, not really. Just commenting randomly. I'm big with the randomness."

He smiled.

          "Have I mentioned how cute you are?"

          "Perhaps," she said, green eyes twinkling over a smile of her own. She had a mental image of leaving the stack of homework behind for some extra-curricular fun on the floor. A soft knock on the door interrupted the transition from thought to action.

          "Come in," Grey called. He had finally gotten Sir Cadogan to agree to open the door when he called out from inside. Giles stepped through the entry, cell phone in hand.

          "Willow, Buffy would like to speak with you. It's rather urgent." He handed her the phone. "Evening, Grey."

          "Giles," the auror said pleasantly. He returned to his novel, letting one ear linger on Willow's conversation. The Watcher's face had a gray cast and he wore a serious expression.

          "Hey, Buffy! How's the Hellmouth?" Pause. "Uh huh. Giles mentioned it." Pause. "Ew. That's …" Pause. "Oh, wow. Yeah, I know, Sunnydale PD, not the best …" Pause. "Guess we don't have much choice. We'll come first thing in the morning." Pause. "Me and Grey." Pause. "Spike's not here. He and Harry's godfather are hunting down this artifact thingy we need for that spell Jess told you about." Pause. "Yeah, you totally helped. Anyway, look, we need to get packed and stuff. Clear the fireplace, okay?" Pause. "Yeah, I'll see you soon. Bye, Buffy."

          "What's up?" Grey asked as Willow handed the phone back to Giles.

          "Buffy and Xander have been tracking this big time serial killer in Sunnydale. Six deaths since they got back." She blanched, thinking of Buffy's description of the bodies.

          "Demon or human?"

          "They think human, but they don't know. The bodies are all teenage girls."

          "I take it you will be going to help them?" Giles said. Willow nodded. "Good. It is a sad state of affairs when private citizens are best equipped to perform a municipal function such as police work."

          "That was, um, very elderly British man of you, Giles."

          "Thank you, Willow." A dubious look accompanied his sarcasm.

          "Why do they need us?" Grey asked. Leaving Hogwarts with Spike and Sirius both gone made him nervous.

          "To do the Batman thing, you with the smashing of the heads and me with the deciphering of the clues. Dawnie doesn't quite have the science skills down pat yet. It shouldn't be for long." She noticed the tension in his shoulders and neck. "Hogwarts will be okay."

          "The Sunnydale cops can't do the Lincoln Rhyme stuff?" Now I'm starting to talk like her, Grey thought with a mental head shake.

          "Nope. Their forensics team sucks," she said definitively. "People are dying, Grey. I have to go. You can stay if you want."

          He involuntary shivered at the memory of the Sunnydale vibe. Slayer or no, Willow would not be going there alone.

          "I'll go. I used to be a detective, remember? It'll be nice to flex those muscles again."

          Draco caught up with him after Dark Arts class.

          "Potter."

          "Malfoy." Ron and Hermione appeared next to him.

          "I need to talk to you. Alone."

          "Not likely, you stupid sod," Ron said.

Malfoy glared at him.

"Weasley, if you know what's good for you and your family, you'll let me speak with Potter." Ron's face darkened with rage. "That's not an insult, despite what you might think. I'm serious." His tone had none of the condescension or sneering Malfoy normally employed.

          "What you say to one of us, you can say to all three, Malfoy," Harry said, thinking that Draco actually sounded sincere.

          "Fine. Let's go someplace less public."

          A meandering stroll through campus eventually led them to the hill overlooking the Quidditch field. No one was anywhere near them, much to Malfoy's relief.

          They stood together in silence, four black-robed figures starkly highlighted against the background of white snow. The single green and white scarf stood out from the red and gold almost as much.

          "Did you guys notice we spend a lot of time on this hill?" Hermione asked. The other two nodded, not sure why it mattered. "It's just odd, that's all."

          "You know of any other spots on campus where we can be sure no one can hear us?" Ron asked. Hermione shook her head.

          "So, Malfoy, what do you want?" Harry steered the discussion back on course.

          "The Death Eaters are planning something big. Your brothers," he said to Ron, "are going to be arrested on Friday for stealing from Zonko's."

          "What? They didn't … they wouldn't …"

Hermione cut him off.

          "Of course not, Ron. They're being framed, right?" She scowled at Malfoy.

          "Yes," the Slytherin boy said. "There's more, though. I think they're going after your father somehow. I don't know the details."

          "And why are you telling us? More importantly, why should we believe you?"

          Malfoy grinned evilly.

          "My father is fronting for Voldemort. It's a very Malfoy plan. That's how I know he'll be using it to get rid of Weasley's father. Normally, I'd be excited, but Voldemort will make the bastard pay for fucking this up, and that's worth more to me than a bunch of Weasleys." Ron fumed, but Hermione put a restraining hand on his chest. "MacNair and Flint are his lackeys here. They have a stash of stolen stuff hidden somewhere, probably with some trumped up evidence."

          "It makes sense," Hermione said, thinking it over. "It's no secret Fred and George want to start a joke shop, and everyone assumes they have no startup funds." She looked pointedly at Harry, who nodded. "They'll probably gin up some fake sheet that mentions Mr. Weasley stealing Ministry money and get all three together."

          "That sounds like my father," Malfoy agreed. "I know he wants your father out of the Ministry. Hates him something fierce."

Ron nodded, his temper cooling. "I still don't see why you're telling us this, Malfoy," he said.

          "I don't like you three, and I don't like Weasleys. But I like my father and Voldemort less, so if I can get in the way, I will."

          "What happened to 'you chose the wrong side, Potter'?" Harry asked.

Draco's eyes grew fierce and bitter. "I would think you'd understand best. They'd killed your parents, yes? And you want to make them pay, yes? Well, they killed my friends, and so do I." He stopped, letting his words sink in. "Does it make sense to you now?"

          "Yes," Harry said quietly, feeling more than hearing the pain radiating from Draco. Harry knew he had become a Slytherin outcast after what they had done in the infirmary, which Harry didn't mind. But he also knew that Crabbe and Goyle had been Malfoy's only remaining friends; in that context, it made quite a bit of sense.

          "If you three don't keep this secret, I'm a dead man," Malfoy said softly, looking away from them. For the first time ever, the others heard fear in his voice. They glanced at one another, realizing the trust implicit in Malfoy's actions.

          Ron could see Malfoy's pain as well as Harry could. As much as he hated him, Malfoy was doing him a good turn and acting damned nobly. Ron surprised everyone by speaking first.

          "I get it, Malfoy." He paused, thinking of where to go next. "We won't say anythin', and … thanks."

          Forcing himself to do it, Ron extended his hand.

          Malfoy viewed the limb with a hint of distaste. After a half-second, he shook it anyway, and an alliance was born.