Ok, here's another chapter. This one's kind of long. Slytherinphoenix7 and lilmatchgirl007 seemed distressed at my cliffhanger, so I remedied the situation a little. (thanx so much for reviewing me! It makes my day to get reviews!) Sorry about this chapter, I wrote it in the evening, there's no action, nothing really happens, but that's just my opinion, maybe you'll like it...

Harry landed hard on his feet at the bottom of the stairs and sprinted down the hallway, wand held in front of him like a sword. He burst through the oak door, cold sweat pouring down his face –

"Good evening, Potter," Draco Malfoy drawled, as Ron helped Hermione off the couch. "A little stressed?"

Harry skidded to a halt on the flagstone. "Hermione?"

"Oh – Malfoy startled me when he apparated. Don't worry, I'm fine. Sorry," she added, with an uncertain look at Harry's face. It seemed she was almost holding back a chuckle. "I must have scared you, screaming like that..."

Harry breathed deeply, glaring around him. He nodded briefly at Draco, and turned to his relatives at the top of the stairs. "Is this who you saw?" he demanded, pointing at Draco Malfoy.

"No. And I'm absolutely sure!" Vernon added, glaring at his nephew. "The man up there looked like some sort of rotten criminal!" The young man standing calmly in the living room was well dressed; his hair only reached to his chin and he stood tall and straight. The man in the bedroom had been much too hunched and ragged; his tangled hair hung nearly to his waist.

"Isn't that ... that's the man you just turned into in my house, isn't it?" Vernon's eyes narrowed.

Harry nodded briefly and brushed some hair out of his eyes. He turned back to Draco.

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Draco asked haughtily. "You used polyjuice? What for?"

"I had permission."

Draco's eyes flitted to Vernon and Petunia. A disgusted smirk seemed to be aching to play over his face, but he repressed it. "Your... aunt and uncle?" Harry nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but Draco spoke over him. "What are they going on about? A scary man upstairs? Did that great oaf catch himself in the mirror?" He sneered a little.

Vernon made a choking sound and his fist clenched on the banister. He was obviously livid about the affront, but too scared of magic and wizards to say or do anything about it.

Harry, despite his ongoing dislike for Draco and all of his disgust with muggles, rather enjoyed hearing his relatives verbally bashed. Yet, his heart was still pounding...

"Your father was just in my house, Draco," he said quietly, his voice like poison. "I wonder how he knew where I lived, don't you? How would he know where I was keeping Ethan Longbottom?"

Hermione gasped quietly.

Draco Malfoy's eyes glittered like steel, and he stared at Harry Potter with a mixture of surprise and loathing which he struggled to camouflage. He opened his mouth to speak, but it took him a few tries to get anything out.

"You think I led him here?" he hissed icily, teeth gritted. "For your information, Potter, I've been under Dumbledore's orders all this time. I haven't so much as seen or spoken to my father in four years, and you know it, Potter, you of all people know it."

Harry, despite his anger, could hear sadness in Draco's voice; sadness combined with hatred that came out in his slightly wavering voice, although his arrogance struggled to hide it.

Malfoy had hated Harry Potter since they had met at the age of eleven. Draco's arrogance and superiority, his disgust with what he had been trained to see as the lower classes, had always conflicted with Harry's aggressive individualism. With the outbreak of the war; with Harry the object of Voldemort's murderous rage and Draco's father the willing servant of Voldemort, the rivalry escalated into flat-out hatred. And when Lucius Malfoy was imprisoned in Azkaban, when Draco's mother became sick and the Malfoy family lost everything... Draco Malfoy's absolute hatred of Harry Potter was cemented.

They had been forced to work together after the war. Though perhaps united with a common goal, restoration after the war – Draco appeared to have undergone a change of heart – the hatred persisted. It was personal, not political. Draco hated Harry for ruining him, for sending his father to Azkaban; Harry remained bitter and suspicious of Draco. They tolerated each other's presence and bottled their anger only because they had no other option.

Ronald spoke up. "Lucius was upstairs just now?" He crossed to his best friend, Hermione and George following. "Listen, Harry – if he knows about Grimmauld Place, the others'll know too - "

"We can't stay here, Harry, they'll be coming back," Hermione said, her voice strained.

"He'll bring more with him," George interjected. "We've got to clear out – where's that kid you brought with you?"

"He's just – just up there with-" Harry spun and looked up the stairs at his aunt and uncle, beckoning them to come down. They were ashen-faced, and Harry, despite himself, could not help feeling just a tiny bit sorry for them. Ethan was standing just behind them, looking terrified, sleepy, and wary of Uncle Vernon.

"Come on, Ethan. You, too," he addressed the Dursleys, and beckoned the three of them toward him. He turned to Ron. "Where are we going?" he whispered anxiously. "Where else is safe enough? If they can get here..."

"Dumbledore is working on safeguarding Hogwarts," Ron said uncertainly, looking around at the eight people clustered nervously around the fireplace in the dim room.

"Hang on," Hermione said abruptly. She spun around on her heel and disappeared with a faint pop. Petunia lat out a small squeal and Draco turned to glare at her with an expression of annoyance.

"Where's she gone?" Harry asked.

"Dunno," Ron answered, staring at the spot where his wife had been. "She never explains things."

The group waited in tense silence for a few moments.

Harry felt eyes on him, and he glanced to the side to see Draco staring at him, cold grey eyes locked onto brilliant green. Harry looked back. The fire crackled.

Hermione reappeared, stumbling slightly and knocking into Ethan. The skinny twelve-year-old lost his balance and had to sit down suddenly on the sofa.

"Hogwarts is safe enough," she announced, as though just continuing an ordinary conversation. "I've just been to see Dumbledore. The students are all in their common rooms; there are some Dementors posted around the castle again, Dumbledore's not happy but it's the safest thing so far. Aurors are out on the hunt too – Lovegood and Tonks as well – Dumbledore said you ought to talk to Mad-Eye, Harry... and Ron, don't worry about me apparating, it's still too early for there to be any problems."

"I'm going to Hogsmeade," George said suddenly. "Ought to check on Fred and all that – help with things –" he disapparated quickly.

"You've still got floo powder, right Harry?" Hermione asked breathlessly. Harry nodded.

"You take those three then..." she gestured to his relatives.

Vernon growled. "I don't want to go through the barking fireplace again," he mumbled at the floor. Harry ignored him.

Minutes later, Harry was spinning through the floo network, eyes screwed up against the soot, waiting, wondering...

He slid out of the magnificent fireplace into Dumbledore's office. Fawkes whistled hauntingly on his perch behind the headmaster's desk. Harry straightened up, brushing off his robes and looking around. Ethan had been seated in an armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk; he perked up as Harry came into view. Hermione and Ron stood in a corner; Hermione was trying to speak nicely with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Petunia seemed to be putting up a valiant effort with the conversation, Harry noticed, although Vernon kept spinning around and looking frantically for the owners of voices he kept hearing – the portraits on the wall were teasing him.

Draco Malfoy stood leaning with his hands on Dumbledore's desk, talking in a low voice to Dumbledore, who sat calmly in his large chair, looking intensely into Draco's eyes over the rims of his half-moon spectacles.

Upon hearing Harry arriving, Draco straightened up, looked at Harry in the face, and swept quickly out of the office, drawing his robes around him. Dumbledore stood up.

"Ah, Harry," he said. "Draco has just been with an interesting story... Mr. Lucius Malfoy seems to have found himself inside Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place." He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Dumbledore," Harry stuttered in a low voice. "He – well, I didn't actually see him, my relatives did – but they described him, I just saw him a few hours ago, it matched..."

"Have you any idea how he might have come across your address?" Dumbledore asked quietly, drawing Harry by the arm into a corner of the office, where they spoke in low voices.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry said bitterly. "It's his father ..."

"I trust Draco, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously. "He would not put innocent people in danger. He has proved to do the right thing more than once before. Surely you remember..." he gave Harry a significant look.

Harry hesitated.

Severus Snape threw open the door of the office.

"Headmaster, the floo network is being watched."

"Thank you, Severus."

"And sir," Snape said, striding past the Dursleys and stopping at Dumbledore's desk, his face unreadable, "Mad-Eye has just informed me... Miss Lovegood and Mr. Longbottom had been following Lucius Malfoy... apparently to Number Twelve - "

"Yes, Severus, I am aware."

Harry coughed.

Snape glared accusatorily at Harry Potter. "Supposed to be a secure place, is it not..."

Harry glared right back. "I didn't go and tell him about it, in case you were wondering."

"Headmaster," Snape said, turning back toward Dumbledore, who looked at him attentively, "Mad-Eye Moody has also informed me that Miss Lovegood and Mr. Longbottom have been captured by the Death Eaters."