A/N: I know, I know *ducks missiles* but life has been a bit mad recently. I wrote about half of this two weeks ago, then got stuck with some deadlines on work-related issues that bogged me down. Apologies to all for the delay – hope you enjoy.

And yes, to those doubting Thomases, I did plan this as part of my plot. I promise I'm not winging it. Wouldn't have the guts.  – PepperImp

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything – it all belongs to JK Rowling.

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Malfoy stared at Harry in utter disbelief, his mouth hanging open.

"This is a big joke, right, Potter?" he finally managed. "You must be kidding."

"No," said Harry, shrugging his shoulders. "You're not advanced enough in defense, Malfoy – you're going to get yourself killed."

"Like you care," said Malfoy bitterly.

"Well, I don't really, but I think I might feel guilty about it later on, and I don't need to live with that for the rest of my life," said Harry, staring him down. "I've been responsible for enough death in my life so far – don't really want to add another one to my conscience."

"But …" spluttered Malfoy, clearly at a loss for words. "Why would you want to help my father? He's never done anything decent for you. In fact, he's done the opposite!"

"Yeah, I know," said Harry quietly. "But if my dad was still alive, and I needed to go and help him, I'd like to think that I'd have someone on my side to help me. By the way – where are your mates? How come Crabbe and Goyle aren't around? I thought they were your bully boys."

Malfoy swallowed, obviously having an internal struggle with himself. "Well," he said finally, spitting out the words as though they were distasteful to him. "They're not really my friends, and I can't trust them."

Harry snorted in disbelief. "Oh, come on, Malfoy – they've always hung around you! Ever since first year!"

Kicking at the base of the pedestal, the Slytherin wouldn't look at him. "Yeah, and they're great for backup. But let's face it – neither of them are too bright, and since their fathers are both still Death Eaters, they'd tell them straight away if I was planning to get my father out. Things have been a bit … shall we say strained, since that last fiasco."

Thinking about it, Harry realized he was right. He'd seen Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle, but they certainly weren't as close as they had once been.

 "Well, that decides it then," said Harry firmly. "I'll go with you. But we can't go now – they're waiting for us at the DA meeting, and if we both miss it, they'll know something's up."

"I didn't give you permission to come with me yet, Potter," growled Malfoy.

Harry grinned. "Like I've ever needed permission to get myself in trouble," he said dismissively. "Come on, Malfoy – stow your stuff inside the statue and come with me to the DA meeting. I'll meet you here at about two o'clock tomorrow morning when everyone else is asleep, and we can get this over with. OK?"

For a second, Malfoy glared at him. Then he nodded.

"OK, Potter, but let's just get one thing straight," he said grimly. "This still doesn't make us mates, right?"

"Definitely not," agreed Harry fervently. "Ron would never forgive me."

***

Harry set the alarm for quarter to two, and hid his clock under the pillow so it wouldn't wake the whole dormitory. He'd been really distracted during the DA meeting, to the point that Neville had been able to Stun him twice. As a result, he'd gotten a filthy headache and had been able to retire to bed early without making too many excuses. Neville kept apologising until Harry threatened to put him in a full Body Bind and leave him tied upside down to the staff table in the Great Hall until morning.

He awoke from a fitful sleep when the alarm rang stridently in his ear, swiftly reaching below the pillow to switch it off. He lay perfectly still for a moment, listening carefully, but no-one else stirred. Stealthily, he got up and dressed rapidly, taking a few minutes to rummage in his trunk for his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's map. Casting a final glance around the dormitory, he grabbed his wand and broom and sneaked out the door.

Down in the common-room, he unfurled the map and studied it closely in the dim light of the dying fire. He could see a dot, labeled "Draco Malfoy" moving steadily from the dungeons towards the third floor. Harry quickly rolled up the map and slid it under the couch, planning to retrieve it later.

As he shook out the Invisibility Cloak and prepared to sling it over his shoulders, a hand landed on his arm.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Harry nearly fainted from shock. He whipped out his wand and whirled around to find Ron, hands on hips, glaring at him.

"Don't do that!" gasped Harry, hand to his heart. "You don't know how close you came to getting my wand up your nose!"

Despite himself, Ron grinned. "Best defense you could think of, eh?" he said. Growing serious again, he said: "Harry – what are you up to now?"

"Er … I … um … actually," stammered Harry.

Ron's expression hardened. "I know where you're going, you bugger!" he said furiously. "You're going to meet another girl! I told you what I'd do to you if you hurt Ginny…"

He reached out a large, freckled hand and grabbed Harry by the collar.

"Ron … no!" spluttered Harry, trying to get loose. "It's not that – I promise!"

Ron peered suspiciously at him. "What, then?" he hissed, tightening his grip. "Where are you skulking off to at two in the morning?"

"Let go of me and I'll tell you, you idiot!" gasped Harry desperately, feeling his air supply starting to cut off. Reluctantly, Ron released his collar and Harry took a huge gulp of air.

"Well? This better be good, Harry!"

Harry sighed and straightened his robes. "Actually, I'm not sure you'll believe me," he said honestly. "I'm going to help Malfoy get his father back from Voldemort."

Flabbergasted, Ron was momentarily lost for words, and he gaped at Harry like a goldfish out of water.

"You're … joking. Right?"

"Nope," said Harry. "He needs help and I'm going to do it. And I'm supposed to meet him in – let's see, five minutes, so I need to push off."

He cocked an eyebrow at his red-haired friend, who was still looking stunned. "Coming?"

"Why," asked Ron slowly, "would I want to help that git Malfoy? He's done nothing but get us into trouble, be rude to every one of us and our families, and make a complete pest out of himself for the last five years. Care to explain?"

Harry sighed, and looked worriedly at his watch. "Tell you what – come with me and I'll tell you why on the way. Hurry up! If you don't want to come with us, you can use the Cloak to get back without Filch catching you."

Ron regarded him cautiously, then nodded and took off up the stairs. "Bring your broom!" hissed Harry after him.

As they hurried along the deserted corridors under the Invisibility Cloak, keeping one eye open for Filch or Mrs Norris, Harry quickly explained to Ron why he was helping Malfoy.

"I know he's a git, but … ouch, Ron, that's my foot …"

"Sorry."

"Think about it. You've got a big family, and you could rely on any of them to help. You've also got me and Hermione, and Neville and Luna. But I sort of felt sorry for Malfoy, you know? Even though Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater, he's Draco's father, and he risked everything to not use his son in that raid on Hogwarts. I reckon … ouch, that's my other foot … that Malfoy won't go to Voldemort's side after all. He's kind of learned his lesson."

"Oh yeah?" whispered Ron skeptically. "I wouldn't put it past him not to be leading you straight to Vol … You-Know-Who with this little lot as a pretense."

"Nope, he's being sincere," said Harry, as they sprinted around the corner of the corridor on the third floor. "Just trust me – I know."

"Something to do with your Legilimency?" hissed Ron.

"Yup – look, there's Malfoy now."

The blond boy was standing in front of the witch's statue, tapping his foot and looking around impatiently. Harry and Ron skidded to a halt in front of him and whipped off the Cloak. Malfoy gasped and went paler than usual.

"Merlin, where did you come from?" he spluttered.

"Rumour has it the stork brought me," said Ron drily, folding up the cloak.

Recovering his composure quickly, Malfoy glared at him.

"Had to bring your fan club, did you Potter?" he said. "What, did you promise to give Weasley some gold if he came along as the luggage-handler?"

Ron whirled around and grabbed Malfoy by the neck, shoving him up against the wall.

"Listen, you idiot, I'm only here because of Harry. He's my friend, and unlike your mates, I'd do anything to help him out. Personally, I don't care if you get caught by You-Kno… oh, bugger it – by Voldemort's supporters, and subjected to Crucio until your brains leak out, but I don't want Harry hurt. Got it?"

He released Malfoy, who slid down the wall and slumped to the floor, gasping, as he massaged his throat.

"Come on, then," said Ron, annoyed. "Get up! I know you're 'Johnny-No-Mates' around here and Harry feels sorry for you, but I don't feel like getting caught helping you out. It would shatter my reputation in Gryffindor, that would."

He turned and hoisted himself through the witch's hump. "Get a move on, Harry," his disembodied voice said from inside it. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can be back in bed."

Malfoy got to his feet, wincing. "Well, if that's the brawn, I suppose I can see who the brains of this combination is," he said sarcastically. "That would be Granger. So what are you, then, Potter? Team mascot?"

Harry glared at him. "Don't push it, Malfoy," he spat. "Get in there."

However, moving along the darkened corridor towards Honeydukes, Harry started feeling a sense of foreboding. Maybe Ron was right … was Malfoy leading them straight to Voldemort?

Before they knew it, they were standing underneath the trapdoor at Honedukes. Ron cautiously pushed it open, and they slipped out into the cellar.

"Now what?" whispered Ron loudly.

Malfoy dug into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "We're going to fly to a deserted house about ten miles out of town, then use this Floo powder to get to the cottage on the property of Riddle house," he said. "After that, we have to play it by ear to get into the house and get Father. My source tells me there won't be many guards around tonight."

Pushing open a window in the shop, Malfoy slipped out and dropped to the ground. Harry followed, with Ron close behind him, swearing under his breath as his cloak caught on the catch and tore.

"Mum's going to kill me," he moaned.

They hopped on their brooms and soared upwards, with Malfoy in the lead. The night was crisp and clear, the stars standing out brightly against a background of velvet black. The moon was almost full, and Harry found himself wondering if Lupin had taken his wolfsbane potion.

Before they knew it, they were descending towards a ramshackle cottage.  Even in the dim light, its state of dilapidation was obvious, with broken boards and windows and the door hanging off its hinges.

"Nice digs, Malfoy," sniggered Ron as he dismounted in the tangled mess of a garden.

"Bet it's an improvement on your family's hovel, Weasel," sneered Malfoy. Ron swore and moved towards Malfoy with his fist held ready.

Harry sighed, rolled his eyes, and stepped between them. "Will you two knock it off?" he said, irritated. "I don't fancy spending the night keeping you two from killing each other. Now shake hands and agree to keep your mouths shut about each other – only for tonight, Ron, I'm not suggesting an engagement – or I'll Stun you both and go by myself. Got it?"

Both of them glared at him, then at each other.

Harry tapped his wand. "I'm waiting," he said sweetly, thinking privately with something like horror that he was starting to sound like Hermione.

Huffing in exasperation, Ron and Malfoy performed the fastest handshake in living history.

"Right, then – let's get on with it," said Harry, going into the house gingerly.

Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the most disgusting room he'd ever seen. Piles of filth and refuse lay in every corner, and broken furniture lay in shattered heaps. The fireplace, however, looked relatively intact.

Malfoy grabbed a few broken pieces of furniture and some yellowing newspaper, and tossed them into the fireplace. Feeling around in his pocket, he brought out a box of matches and lit a few, tossing them onto the kindling. Very quickly, there was a small fire spluttering in front of them.

"Thought you hated Muggle stuff, Malfoy," said Harry, amused.

"Well, I can't exactly use magic, can I?" spat Malfoy, going red. "I'm still underage – the Ministry would be able to trace me immediately. Think, Potter!"

They watched as Malfoy took out a handful of Floo powder and stepped into towards the fireplace, tossing the box to Harry.

"See you there, boys!" said Malfoy flippantly. "Don't get lost, now. Ivy Cottage, Little Hangleton!"

With a roar and a flash, the fire turned emerald green and Malfoy disappeared.

Ron gulped and glanced at Harry. "Shall we go together, then?" he said quietly. "I wouldn't be keen for either one of us to step out into Merlin knows what – alone."

Harry nodded, took some Floo powder and then shoved the box into his pocket. He threw the powder into the flames, and he and Ron followed it a second later.

"Ivy Cottage, Little Hangleton," they said together, and a second later, were spinning past fireplaces on their way to the unknown.