Chapter 1: A Nasty Surprise

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, places, objects etc belong to J.K.Rowling, not me. The plot, however, is mine.

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A/N: Wow, thanks for all the great reviews! I got far more than I ever expected, which was wonderful, especially as I'm now right in the middle of the dreaded, the feared, the horrendous GCSE mocks! (For all non-English people: GCSEs are big, scary, evil exams you take at 16. And mocks are like practice exams, based on which they give you a predicted grade. And if you don't get good predicted grades, your parents get mad.)

Mainly because of this fic, I've skimped slightly on revision… i.e. barely done any at all… but that's okay, I appear to be doing fairly well so far. And this time next week, I'll be posting Chapter 2 fresh from the terrifying ordeal of my French oral, the last exam I have to take until around May. Thank goodness.

Anyway, I'm rambling, while I'm sure you're all dying for me to get on with the chapter. So I'll leave you with one word: enjoy.

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Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

-Hebrews 13:2

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'Ow!'

The pack of Exploding Snap cards had blown up yet again, singing Ron's fingers. He sucked on his fingertips with an irritated expression. 'Why don't we play a less life-threatening game?' he asked mournfully. 'Something like, I don't know, Gobstones with Bubotuber pus?'

'We don't have a full set of Gobstones here.' Hermione pointed out. 'I'd challenge you to another game of wizard's chess, but we've played about five hundred games already.'

'You just don't want to play because I always win.'

'Nearly always win.'

The two friends were passing the time in Hermione's room, as it was the tidier of their rooms. Like most of the other rooms in the headquarters of the Order, it was dark and dingy, the walls decorated in an extreme shade of navy with a rather hideous pattern which left you wanting to gouge your eyes out if you stared at it too long.

Ron had gone straight to the Order after the end of term, with Hermione following a week later after spending some time with her parents. Harry was still at the Dursleys after three long weeks. They spend a good part of every day writing him letters, trying to tell him important things while making it impossible for anyone but Harry to guess. Sometimes, they were sure, this just frustrated him more when their letters were too vague.

But they were trying, and this time, at least, he got some information through the Muggle news – the Ministry had informed the Muggle Prime Minister almost as soon as they realised that Voldemort really was back, and some inventive story to explain the Death Eaters away was being flogged to the general public.

Most of Ron and Hermione's time, however, was spent cleaning. Now that the Ministry had accepted the truth, the Order no longer needed to amass members in secret. New people were arriving all the time, and some of them needed to stay at the Order, either permanently or just overnight. Thus, more bedrooms were needed, and rooms for discussions and meetings, and most importantly of all, bathrooms. With up to twenty people staying in the house at once, the queue for the shower could get very, very long, which meant cleaning out more. Some of the things they'd found growing in those bathrooms had been utterly disgusting.

In the evenings, however, they became quite bored.

'We could find Ginny and play some more interesting card games.' Hermione suggested, but Ron shook his head.

'She's gone for a bath, and you know what she's like.' Ginny had a habit of spending anything up to three hours in the bath on occasion. Fred and George, apparently, used to take bets on how long it'd be before she dissolved in the bathwater.

'Shame Fred and George are off working at their joke shop. Although they'd have cheated anyway.' This was completely true.

Ron stared desolately at a corner of the bed he was lying on. 'We could write to Harry.'

'We haven't even sent the last letter yet, and we only wrote that this morning.' Hermione pointed out. 'I hope Hedwig gets here soon…'

'We could add more to the letter.' Ron said hopefully, picking at a thread on Hermione's blanket.

'There's nothing to add.'

Ron sighed and rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling above him, which was covered in heavy black velvet drapes. 'Then maybe I'll just sit here and stare at nothingness.'

Hermione sighed, picking up one of the singed playing cards and fiddling with it absently. 'There's got to be something we can do… Maybe I could go and do some studying.'

'But then I'll be on my own,' Ron pointed out. 'And even more bored than now. Come on, Hermione, don't go and study…'

She gave him a look of irritation mixed with amusement. 'It's not like you couldn't come and study too,' she told him firmly. 'You don't study nearly enough.'

'I do study enough!' he protested. 'I studied before my OWLS, remember?'

She tried to give him a strict look, but couldn't help laughing. 'We'll see how well you studied after the OWL results come out.'

'You're always going on about the OWL results,' Ron shook his head. 'Anyone would think it was the Quidditch World Cup Final or something, not a bunch of exam results.'

'Very important exam results that will influence our NEWT choices, options after Hogwarts and career choices,' Hermione pointed out, nervousness suddenly clouding her face. 'I hope I did okay…'

Ron shook his head in bewilderment. 'Why are you worried? Everyone knows you'll have got all Es. You were studying for months.'

'I'm still nervous, though,' Hermione sighed, before looking up curiously. 'You really think I'll get all Es? I mean, that's terribly difficult…'

Ron was about to point out that he couldn't remember a single incidence of Hermione getting less than ninety percent in an exam, when their conversation was interrupted. They heard someone come in through the front door, followed by Mrs. Weasley's pleasantly surprised voice ringing out, 'Albus, why are you here? I thought you were staying at the school overnight!'

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, wide grins spreading across their faces and their eyes lighting up. Professor Dumbledore's arrival was always a chance to petition him for news about Harry. He received all the reports of those set to watch him at the Dursley's, and so was extremely well informed about how he was doing. Plus, they could beg for Harry to be brought back to the Order.

'Come on, let's go see him,' Ron grinned, and together they raced to the door, heading for the stairs. But as they reached the banister, they heard Mrs. Weasley shout angrily.

'What on earth are you thinking, Dumbledore!'

They skidded to a halt, sharing nervous and puzzled glances. Normally, Mrs. Weasley was completely in agreement with anything Dumbledore suggested – within reason. What had he done this time?

They leaned over the banister, looking at the scene spread out below them. Mrs. Weasley had gone white, her eyes wide and horrified; beside her, Mr. Weasley was trying ineffectually to calm her. Tonks and one of the newer members stood tactfully to one side. Dumbledore remained serene as always, smiling at Mrs. Weasley quite calmly. And by Dumbledore's side…

…by Dumbledore's side stood Draco Malfoy.

Hermione gasped, and Ron let out a hastily muffled expletive. Below them, the scene continued to unfold.

'I have extremely good reasons for this, Molly.' Dumbledore told her peaceably, having a complete lack of any effect on Mrs. Weasley, who stood there and stared in outrage at Malfoy. The Slytherin crossed his arms irritably and scowled at her.

'What the hell is Dumbledore thinking?' Ron whispered angrily to Hermione. 'What's that slimy Slytherin doing here?'

'I haven't a clue.' Hermione replied in a low voice, not moving her eyes from the scene before her. She felt almost dizzy, as though her surroundings were becoming faded and vague with as much substance as mist. Except for the scene below her, which seemed to be a separate bubble of reality, like watching something in a cinema. The scene below her was alive.

Lupin chose that moment to poke his head round the kitchen door, obviously alerted by Mrs. Weasley's shouts. He looked even more weary and worn than usual, ever since Sirius had died. His hair was unbrushed and patchy, his skin pale, and there were bags under his eyes.

'Anything the matter?' he asked in his quiet voice, and when he saw Malfoy, 'Oh…'

This only served to get one of Malfoy's prize-winning scowls sent directly at him Mrs. Weasley began to turn an exceptional tone of deep pink, which caused Ron to frown.

'This doesn't look good.' he whispered. 'She's getting mad now… not without reason. It's a good thing they got that portrait down, she'd set her off screaming again… Oh no,' Ron added faintly, looking very apprehensive, 'here she goes…'

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley exploded.

'I don't know what you were thinking, Dumbledore.' She said, over-loud, quivering as she spoke, 'but I refuse to put up with it. I accepted Mundungus even though he's little more than a crooked thief, I coped with the filth and the grime and the squalor, but I will not,' her voice raised, and she pointed directly at Malfoy, 'cope with THIS!'

A ringing silence settled over the hallway. Malfoy's scowl turned particularly murderous, but he didn't speak. Below his breath, Ron murmured, 'Well said, Mum.'

'Molly,' Dumbledore began, looking suddenly very old and very weary, 'I understand that it is… difficult for you to cope with the conditions at the Order, and that they must be very unlike the ones you have at home. But this is the headquarters of the Order, and because of that some things must happen here that cannot be avoided…

'And he cannot be avoided?' Mrs. Weasley was beginning to sound almost hysterical; Mr. Weasley tried to calm her, but was ignored utterly. 'Albus, you know what the Malfoys are like! That boy's father is a Death Eater, he tries to get Arthur sacked, and you know it was him who gave Ginny that diary and almost got her killed! And then you invite his son to come to the Order, and I won't stand for it!'

Mr. Weasley attempted to reason with her and was completely ignored. Lupin stepped forward and took Mrs. Weasley firmly by the elbow. 'Molly, just listen to Albus. You know he wouldn't do something like this without a very good reason…'

Mrs. Weasley tried and failed to shove Lupin away, then resorted to throwing Malfoy a glare as foul as his own. Dumbledore stepped forward and took Mrs. Weasley by the arm.

'Arthur, would you be so kind as to contact everyone you can and tell them there's an important meeting? In about ten minutes, if they can all get here that fast. Tonks, if you could show our guest to one of the bedrooms? Now, Molly, please try to calm yourself. I promise that there is a very good reason…'

He steered her into the kitchen; the door closed behind them and they could be heard no more, much to Ron and Hermione's annoyance, leaving the others behind. Mr. Weasley turned to Lupin, who was standing in rather a perplexed state outside the kitchen door. 'Remus, would you help me get everyone together? There's at least twenty who aren't doing anything important tonight, if not more…'

They left together, discussing who could be contacted. Tonks turned to Malfoy with a bright cheery smile, which contrasted rather comically with his surly glare.

'So, nice to meet you – your name's Draco, isn't it? Thought so. Anyway, call me Tonks, because if you use my first name I'm very good at some rather nasty hexes and I'm not afraid to use them… Come on then, you look exhausted, not to mention soaked through. Just follow me, there's a free room quite close.' She started up the stairs, Malfoy trailing behind her. 'I hope you don't mind…'

Ron elbowed Hermione sharply in the side. 'Come on,' he whispered, 'I don't want them to know we were eavesdropping…'

'Good point.' Hermione replied, and the two scurried off down the corridor, back to Hermione's room. They pulled the door to, leaving just enough of a gap to peer through.

Tonks appeared a moment later, chattering ceaselessly, with a stony faced Draco in tow behind her. It occurred to Hermione that this was the first time she had seen him without robes on. Instead, he wore a simple pair of trousers and, oddly, a crimson jumper, which looked as though it had been borrowed. It was far too big for him, and she somehow doubted he'd choose to wear red. And – she frowned at this – while his hair and trousers were soaking wet, as though he'd spent hours in the rain, the jumper was barely damp.

To their horror, Tonks showed Draco to a room only a few doors down from their own. Still chattering, she pulled it open and showed him in, recommending that he 'get out of those wet things, or you'll get a cold'. Then, she gave a final grin and left, humming one of the latest tunes off the Wizarding Wireless.

Ron pulled the door shut.

'Well, Dumbledore must be off his rocker,' he said disbelievingly, taking a seat on the bed. 'Bringing Malfoy here… I don't blame Mum for losing her head.'

Hermione frowned at him, wandering across the room aimlessly. 'He must have a reason,' she thought aloud. 'Like Lupin said. Dumbledore wouldn't bring someone like Malfoy here without a good reason…'

'Or unless he was completely out of his mind…' Ron muttered, but Hermione paid no attention.

'Maybe he's on our side,' she suggested. 'Like Snape. People do change sides…'

Ron snorted and threw her a contemptuous look. 'Oh, come on. Malfoy change sides? That's about as likely as Professor Flitwick going bonkers and coming to class in a fluorescent pink tutu, and you know it. You know what Malfoy's like. I've known what kinds of things they do since I was old enough to talk. They're evil, Hermione, pure evil. Every single one of them, murderers and Dark wizards… You only have to look at the history books to see it.

Against that, Hermione had no argument; she'd read half the library's stock of history books and knew full well the actions of previous Malfoys. Still, that didn't explain why the present-day one was here…

Ron spoke up. 'Maybe Dumbledore's captured him. Like a prisoner of war. They could hold him to ransom!'

Hermione gave him a derisory look. 'People only hold people to ransom in adventure books, Ron. Besides, the Order has enough money. Having him as a prisoner of war might hold some water… but then, why put him in a room on the second floor that he could easily escape from? Those windows are more than big enough to fit through, and he could easily think of some way to get to the ground safely…'

Ron shrugged, looking a little put out. 'It's a mystery then. Though he probably won't be here long, if my mum has anything to do with it. Did you see the way she was yelling! I bet…'

A sudden tap at the window made the two of them jump. They looked around to see Hedwig, hovering expectantly at the window, waiting to be let in. With a hopeful smile on her face, Hermione walked over and undid the catch.

'Hello, Hedwig, how's Harry?' she asked, giving the snowy owl her arm to perch on. Hedwig clambered on, and gave a drawn-out, doleful hoot, almost as if she understood Hermione's words.

Sighing, her brow creasing in worry, Hermione fastened the ornate catch with one hand – it was still drizzling outside, and cold for the time of year – and carried Hedwig over to the bed, where she sat down beside Ron. Pulling the haphazardly-tied scroll from Hedwig's leg, she allowed the owl to clamber onto the dark cotton blanket.

Holding it so that Ron could read over her shoulder, she opened the letter.

Dear Ron and Hermione,

Thanks for the news. Nothing much has happened here. Dudley got into a fight, he won as usual. The weather's been good.

Don't worry about me. Hope to see you soon,

-Harry.

'You alright, Hermione?' Ron asked, and Hermione realised she was biting her lip and staring down at the letter.

'I'm fine.' She said, her voice smaller than usual. She forced herself to take a deep breath. 'I just… I wish he were here. Where we could do something proper to help instead of just sending him stupid letters.'

'Letters are better than nothing.' Ron pointed out gently. 'And at least he won't feel completely cut off…'

'It's not him feeling cut off I'm worried about. It's Sirius. You remember what he was like after Cedric, well this will be ten times worse.' They'd had the conversation before, of course, but she didn't stop. 'He's going to blame himself more, because he was the one who lured Sirius out. And he'll be miserable, too, because you know how much he cared for Sirius…'

Ron listened sympathetically. 'I know,' he said. 'But we can't do anything until he gets here, other than write to him It's not ideal, but it's all we've got. It's all he's got.' He'd given the same advice, practically word for word, at least ten times before. Hermione didn't seem to care.

'I just wish he'd write something,' she said, her voice oddly shrill. 'He never writes more than a few lines, I just wish he'd say something about it, talk about it… I'd rather he was screaming at us and cursing us than just not saying anything! And look,' she said with something that might have been a hiccup and might have been a sob, touching one part of the letter, 'He said the weather was good. It was raining there all yesterday, pouring down, remember - Kingsley came back from guarding him soaked through…'

Ron looked despairing. 'You aren't going to cry, are you?' he asked. Hermione gave a funny little sniff and stared distraughtly at the letter. Ron sighed.

'He'll be alright,' Ron tried to reassure her. 'Look, Dumbledore will let him come here soon, and then we'll do something proper to stop him being depressed. And until then, we'll just have to keep writing letters.'

Hermione sighed. 'But it's not…'

He didn't let her finish. 'I know that's not enough, and I know you feel awful that you can't do more because I feel the same way too, but pull yourself together. Being miserable won't do anything good. Look, he even says not to worry about him.'

'Yeah, like we're really not going to be worried when he barely writes anything and doesn't notice a huge rainstorm.' She sniffed, but seemed to be fortifying herself. 'We'd better send that letter…'

Ron nodded, and crossed to the ornate writing desk to pull out the letter they'd written between them. It was extremely long; Hermione had been adamant that they write as much as possible, to keep his spirits up.

'Think we should add a PS and mention Malfoy?' he asked her thoughtfully.

'Not by name. He's probably meant to be a secret…'

Ron thought for a while, then carried the letter to the table, brushed their essays aside, and picked up a quill.

P.S. A ferret has invaded the house; Dumbledore brought it as a pet. It's very annoying, also lively and full of bounce. We hope it goes away soon.

He read this aloud to Hermione, who gave a silent nod of approval and a twitch of a smile. Sighing, Ron carried the letter back to the bed and tied it to Hedwig's leg. The snowy owl hopped obligingly onto his arm, and he carried her to the window before letting her fly away into the night.

He turned back to Hermione to see her sitting disconsolately on the bed, staring at nothing. He decided the most sensible thing to do was leave her be.

'I'm going to go to bed,' he said, checking his watch. 'It's half-ten, and I'm sleepy. Night, Hermione.'

She mumbled a, 'Goodnight,' as Ron crossed the room. With a last attempt at a grin, he pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Hermione alone with her worries.

~*~

A/N: Thanks for reading! Things are beginning to get a little more interesting – and there are still plenty of questions just waiting for their answers to be revealed! In the next chapter, I can promise you some exciting revelations, plus a closer look at both Draco and Harry…

In the meantime, reviews would be greatly appreciated…