Chapter 3: Food and Fights

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, the books would include FAWSSJW!Draco (FallenAngelWingedSexyShirtlessJeansWearing!Draco, as my Delta dubbed him after raving insanely about his *ahem* physical appearance). Since the books don't include FAWSSJW!Draco, you may conclude that I don't own them.

Thanks for 72 reviews goes to: Pheonix, willowfairy, Simpson-Girl, Storm079, Rebecca15, Lyra Silvertongue2, jules37, Saotoshi, Vfoxy713, Queen Jessica, tom4eva, luckdragon, DracMione (x3), Simrun, danapotter, Beauty Full, KeWlGaL8tH, Flaming-June, Plaidly Lush.

A/N: Well, I surprised myself by actually doing well in my mocks despite the fact that most of my revision was… no, not even mad cramming on the night before, I waited until the bus journey to school on the morning, but… I only disgraced myself in one subject (Chemistry, by neglecting to learn ion tests) and did well in all the others. So I was pleased.

It's really surprising how many questions I keep noticing that I need to answer. And the early chapters keep you in the dark, rather – a lot of the intricacies have to wait a while in order to come out – annoying, but it means there's always some interesting things to be brought out in the later chapters. And the alternative is a huge long lecture and then a lot of the exciting parts of the plot being diminished. Which would be bad.

But you aren't here for that! You're here for the fic. Here it is – enjoy!

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In time we hate that which we often fear.

William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)

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The enticing smell of Mrs Weasley cooking breakfast had an annoying way of creeping, gently, under every door and through every crack in the whole of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The warm, promising scent of toast coated lavishly with hot golden butter, sausages bursting with juice and flavour, crispy rashers of bacon and freshly fried eggs, all cooked to perfection, filled the entire house and lured its inhabitants from their beds far earlier than they would otherwise have arisen, stumbling sleepily down the stairs towards the kitchen.

This was the sole reason why Ron and Ginny were making their way downstairs, hastily washed and dressed and still yawning, their stomachs rumbling loudly. Hermione was with them, although more wide-awake than her friends – she was, and always had been, a definite morning person.

'I'm going to eat breakfast and then go straight back to bed,' Ginny moaned, rubbing her eyes. 'I feel like I could sleep for a century…'

'We can't today, remember?' Hermione pointed out. 'We're cleaning again. Your mum said she wanted to start right after breakfast.'

'Oh, no,' groaned Ron. 'It's that bathroom isn't it? The one next to the bedroom that was filled with Bundimuns… That's going to take all day!'

'Then we spend as long eating breakfast as possible, and I'm going to sleep on the table.' Ginny said with another long yawn, pushing open the kitchen door and stepping inside.

One of the larger drawing rooms had been converted into a kitchen, after it was realised that the old kitchen was far too small to feed the growing numbers of people at the Order. With a lot of cleaning, new furniture, wizarding kitchen appliances and a complete redecoration, it had transformed from a filthy, unused, dingy room into a clean and bright kitchen, the air of which always seemed to be laced with fantastic culinary aromas.

Mrs Weasley stood in front of two massive frying pans, humming a snatch of a tune from the Wizarding Wireless as she prodded the sausages with a spatula. She seemed in a much better mood than any of them had expected, and the two Weasleys knew their mother well enough to know that the small, satisfied smile on her face meant that she was particularly pleased about something.

She looked up at their arrival, and gave the three of them a wide, beaming smile. 'Oh, I have wonderful news for you!' she said, almost overflowing with happiness. 'Dumbledore's finally agreed, he's going to bring Harry back here as soon as possible.'

Ron punched the air with a wild whoop, a grin splitting his face. Hermione had to restrain herself from giving a little gasp of excitement, and Ginny, while not as close to Harry as Ron and Hermione were, was just as delighted as the both of them.

'Oh, Mrs Weasley, that's brilliant!' Hermione exclaimed, looking positively radiant. 'When's he coming?'

'Either tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on when enough members of the Order are free,' Mrs Weasley informed them, flipping bacon happily.

'Wicked,' Ron grinned. 'How on earth did you get Dumbledore to agree to it?'

For the first time, Mrs Weasley's expression soured. 'A compromise,' she said stiffly. 'It was just about the time when Harry could leave those Dursleys safely anyway, and Dumbledore said Harry could come if I agreed to tolerate that… that Malfoy.' Her eyes narrowed, and she gripped the spatula very tightly. 'I don't want any of you going near him any more than you have to, you understand? Though Dumbledore's insisted that he helps with the cleaning… Sometimes I worry that he's going senile, I really do…'

'We're going to be stuck with Malfoy for the cleaning?' Ron gaped, looking horrified. 'But Mum, that'll be ages…'

Ginny looked thoughtful. 'Well, it might be worth it to see Draco Malfoy, the rich spoiled brat, scrubbing away at a patch of mould on the bathroom floor…' she mused, looking extremely amused. Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth to hold back her laughter, and Ron snorted, shaking his head.

'That may be, but remember, I still don't want any of you speaking to him, alright?' Mrs Weasley said firmly. 'That boy's dangerous. If I had my way, he wouldn't be allowed to live in the same country as us, but… Dumbledore knows what he's doing, I suppose.'

'Don't worry Mum, I'd rather eat Bubotuber pus than talk to Malfoy.' Ron said firmly. 'So you've nothing to worry about, except perhaps your youngest son starving to death surrounded by food…' He gave the frying pan of sausages a meaningful look. Ginny rolled her eyes.

'You never change, do you, Ron?' she asked, smiling.

'And he never will.' Mrs Weasley gave her son a fond smile. 'Sausages and bacon alright with you, Ron?'

'A fried egg too, please,' he requested. Ginny asked for the same, and Hermione, lacking the famous Weasley appetite, had two sausages and a slice of toast.

'Is that really all you're having, Hermione?' Ron asked, eyeing her meagre portion as he took a seat at the table and digging into his bacon.

Hermione laughed. 'I never see how you and Ginny can eat so much. If I tried to eat as much as you I'd be sick.'

'Well, when you grow up with Mum's food, you always want seconds.' Ginny grinned at her mother, who laughed and accused her of flattery with intent to get more sausages.

They weren't the only ones there. The kitchen table was littered with people enjoying Mrs Weasley's cooking; various members of the order, both old and new, clustered round the table. Some were eating alone; most were chatting casually to friends or associates.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny took their seats about midway down the long table, fairly close to Lupin and Tonks. Lupin was staring absently at his plate, his forehead furrowed in thought as it was far too often since the death of Sirius. Tonks, her hair a particularly fetching shade of blue, was regarding him with a worried expression.

She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow. 'Remus,' she asked, 'are you going to eat those sausages? Because if you don't, I'll eat them so fast you won't even see them go down.'

Lupin looked up, giving her a weak smile. 'I should eat, I guess,' he said, stabbing a particularly tempting sausage with a fork and sawing the end off, then eating it slowly.

Mrs Weasley had overheard this exchange. 'If you want some more sausages, Tonks, there's plenty more cooking,' she offered.

'Oh, no thanks Molly, I'm stuffed.' Tonks replied with a grin, before turning back to Remus and attempting to begin a conversation.

The door opened barely a second later, and Ginny looked up from her plate to see Dumbledore walk in, shortly followed by a grumpy looking Draco Malfoy, his arms folded and a baleful glare on his face. Dumbledore was saying something to Malfoy in a low tone, but other than this, the room had fallen silent, all eyes turning towards Malfoy. Mrs Weasley slammed a pan down on the stove with unnecessary force, and Ron muttered an insult under his breath as Malfoy took the nearest seat to the door, a spot that was fairly isolated from anyone else.

'Ah, Molly.' Dumbledore said, turning to Mrs Weasley with a deliberately cheerful expression. 'Would you be so kind as to serve some breakfast?'

Dumbledore always ate the same thing for breakfast – two sausages, one slice of toast with butter – which Mrs Weasley stonily placed on a plate for him. She didn't ask what Malfoy wanted, but instead shoved two slightly overcooked sausages, a somewhat charred piece of toast and a few slices of bacon onto a place, which she slammed down in front of Malfoy with such force it was a wonder the plate didn't shatter.

The conversation between other members of the Order gradually picked up again, but Mrs Weasley's mouth remained set firmly in a thin line for the rest of the meal. Ron scowled and bit into a forkful of bacon.

'Hah! Good on Mum for giving him the burnt bits. Bet he doesn't like that!'

'Mmm,' Hermione mused vaguely, glancing up again in Malfoy's direction. The blond Slytherin looked murderous, biting with an irritated expression into a mouthful that, judging by his expression, was probably more charcoal than meat. There was something else about him, too – he didn't look quite so self-confident as he usually did. He was out of place here, Hermione realised – he simply didn't fit.

'Hey,' Ginny said, distracting Hermione's thoughts, 'has Harry written back yet? Any change?'

Hermione blinked, taking a moment for her mind to get back on track, before sighing and responding with a frown, 'Yes, Hedwig came last night. Harry's still…'

She didn't finish the sentence, but Ginny understood. 'Not good?'

'He said it was nice weather yesterday. And you know it was pouring down with rain…'

Ron looked up from the sausages and gave the two girls a hopeful smile. 'Come on, you two, cheer up. He's coming tonight, remember? It'll all be fine then.'

'People don't just get over things as quickly as that,' Ginny pointed out, slicing off a fat piece of fried egg. 'He won't just instantly get better because his friends are here. It'll take time…'

'Yes, but…' Ron seemed to be struggling to reconcile something. 'He'll be better, won't he? He won't be okay straight away, no, but he'll be better…'

Hermione heaved a deep sigh, and looked up from the piece of toast she'd been systematically mangling. 'He'll be better, Ron,' she assured him, although she knew it might not be true. Ron gave a weak smile and turned his attention back to his food.

A few mouthfuls later, Ginny spoke again. 'Malfoy could be a bit of a difficulty. We'll have to think of something to deal with that.'

Hermione looked up, and followed Ginny's eye line to where the blonde Slytherin was irritably attempting to scrape the burnt parts off his toast.

'With Harry, you mean? Yes, that could be a problem…'

'What do you mean?' Rom asked through a mouthful of bacon. He swallowed with some difficulty. 'Malfoy's always a problem.'

'Yes, but think about it. Malfoy and Harry living under the same roof, and we all know what Malfoy's like around Harry. I doubt he's going to be any different – just as insulting and cruel as usual. Which would be a catalyst for…'

'Harry feeling worse,' Ron finished, looking grim. 'Or exploding, or trying to commit murder, or…'

'Other things of that nature,' Ginny finished.

Hermione was thinking. 'Well, the only way I can see of stopping Malfoy from infuriating Harry is keeping them apart. Which could be very, very difficult if they're both spending all day cleaning in the same room…'

'We have to keep Malfoy from speaking to Harry then,' Ginny said. 'With may be difficult. We could get Mum to do a silencio on him…'

Ron brightened. 'Great idea, Gin!' he grinned.

'Dumbledore would never allow it if he found out,' Hermione pointed out.

Ron snorted. 'Who cares? I'd hex ferret-boy to Antarctica if it wasn't for the ban on underage magic…'

'We all would, in an ideal world,' Hermione said with a grin.

Ginny muttered something that sounded very much like, 'Why stop at Antarctica? If I had my way, I'd…'

'We should be concentrating on what we can do,' Hermione pointed out swiftly, cutting Ginny off. 'Not what we can't. We really need to keep Malfoy from…'

Mrs Weasley cut them off, bending down to speak to them. 'You three should hurry up with that breakfast. We have a lot of cleaning to do, remember, and I want to get started.'

'But mum, I still have loads…'

'Then you'd better eat fast, Ron, I want you all ready to start cleaning in five minutes.'

'Five minutes!' came the chorus of protest from Ron and Ginny. 'Mum, we'll never eat enough in that time, we'll get indigestion.' Ginny added plaintively.

'Your own fault. Now get eating. And remember – don't talk to the Malfoy boy,' Mrs Weasley said firmly, shooting a particularly venomous glare in Malfoy's direction, before turning away.

There was silence among the trio for a good few minutes, as Ginny and Ron shovelled their food into their mouths. Hermione polished off her last slice of toast quickly, and used the time to ponder ways in which Malfoy might be prevented from insulting Harry.

It would be difficult, especially if they spent most of the day cleaning rooms together. Presumably Malfoy wouldn't try anything while Mrs Weasley was overseeing them, but there would always be times when Mrs Weasley would be out of the room, getting more cleaning supplies, making hot drinks for everyone in preparation of an upcoming break, having discussions with Dumbledore on whether there were enough bedrooms clean for everyone who wanted to stay that night…

Ron nudged Hermione's arm, and nodded towards the door, where Mrs Weasley was waiting with a box of magical cleaning supplies in one hand. Ginny hastily bolted down the last half of her sausage, and the three of them rose from the table and headed out. Malfoy, with an irritated expression, gave up on his breakfast, flinging his fork down in disgust and rising, scowling, to tag on to the back of Mrs Weasley's little group.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny kept glancing sideways at Malfoy as they followed Mrs Weasley in silence towards the bathroom. Mrs Weasley was fuming, her anger at having to suffer the presence of a Malfoy almost tangible, a feeling in the air. None of them wanted to speak, in case they inadvertently made her explode. But the surreptitious glances were acceptable. Most of the time, Malfoy was staring crossly at the ground, glaring at it as though it were personally responsible for every bad thing that had ever happened to him. Occasionally, however, he looked up, and met their curious glances with a glare so bitter, so dark, that all three of them looked away quickly rather than meet it.

It took about half a minute to reach the bathroom – the Order's headquarters were larger on the inside than outside – though it seemed far longer until Mrs Weasley stopped in front of an old, cobwebbed door, and turned to face the four of them. The smell of decay hung heavy in the air. She pointedly looked only at Hermione, Ron and Ginny, ignoring Malfoy.

'I'm fairly sure it's full of Bundimuns,' she told them, 'but since they aren't near the foundations up here, it should be alright for us to tackle them. Be careful of the floor though, it might be rotted.'

This said, she carefully opened the door. Instantly the cloying, deathly stench of rot and mould enveloped the group. Ron started to splutter and cough; Ginny turned faintly green and Hermione tried to breathe through her mouth, then found that the potent smell could practically be tasted. Mrs. Weasley glanced around looking worried. Only Malfoy seemed unaffected.

Mrs Weasley led the way, stepping cautiously into the room. When the boards held, the called back to the door, 'It's alright. Just be careful where you step.'

The smell was even worse from inside, and every patch of wall seemed covered with what appeared to be patches of greenish fungus – but when examined closely, they each sported tiny eyes, with which they watched the intruders warily. Mrs Weasley crossed to the window and struggled with the catch, which was stiff after too long without use, before finally forcing it open.

'Alright, everyone. Take a bottle each,' she said, indicating the box which was half full with cleaning products and half full with 'Mrs. Scour's All Purpose Bundimun Repellent'. 'Make sure you get all of them, remember,' she told the group, before rolling her sleeves up, grabbing one of the bottles for herself, and beginning to spray with vehemence.

Soon the room was filled with hiss of the spray bottles and the strange slithering noise of running Bundimuns. Hermione, Ron and Ginny worked on the same half of the room, helping each other to stop the Bundimuns escaping before they could get hit by the spray. Malfoy and Mrs. Weasley had the other half of the room between them. They worked in opposite corners, refusing to cooperate, and as a result far more Bundimuns escaped than should have.

At last, the Bundimuns were all gone, and Mrs. Weasley turned to the three Gryffindors with a smile. 'Well done, you three. What time is it?'

Ginny looked at her watch. 'Almost twelve.'

'Already?' Ron asked incredulously. 'It's lunchtime!'

'Well, we can't stop now… not if we want to finish this room today, and Dumbledore wants that corridor of bedrooms opened up…' Mrs Weasley looked torn, but a rumble from Ron's stomach seemed to make her decide. 'Alright, here's an idea. I'll go and make some sandwiches, while you get started cleaning. I can trust you on your own, can't I?' She said this with a meaningful look at Malfoy. The subtext was clear: could they be trusted not to have anything to do with Malfoy in her absence?

'We'll be fine, Mrs. Weasley,' said Hermione with a smile, and Mrs Weasley nodded trustingly at her and left, followed by a plea from Ron about not having corned beef in the sandwiches, leaving Hermione, Ron and Ginny alone with Malfoy.

He scowled darkly at them, looking so murderous that Ginny took a small step backwards out of surprise. With a sneer, Malfoy grabbed hold of a random selection of cleaning products with a disgusted look of contempt, before stalking over to one corner, turning his back to them and starting to read the instructions on the back of the bottles.

The three Gryffindors shared a glance, thankful to have avoided any nasty incidents. Hermione picked up some bottles for herself and handed a few to Ron and Ginny in silence. They made their way to the bath, which was in the opposite corner of the room to Malfoy, and after a few whispers, began to clean.

Silence reigned for a minute or so, as Malfoy read the instructions and unwillingly began cleaning tiles, and the Gryffindors sprayed product after product onto the bathtub, which was so badly covered in grime and mould that it was difficult to see the enamel beneath. Hermione and Ron ignored Malfoy completely – apart from a few muttered remarks from Ron at choice moments – but Ginny kept looking up at him from the bathtub and frowning.

'What is it?' Hermione asked at the third such time, her voice a whisper to keep Malfoy from hearing.

Ginny frowned, before replying in a similar whisper. 'I just want to know why he's here, that's all. It's driving me mad trying to think…'

'He's here to make our lives a misery,' Ron suggested. 'Perhaps we were all mass murderers in a past life and he's our punishment.'

Hermione snorted. 'I think we're looking for a more mundane reason than karma, Ron. Though I have no idea either.'

Ginny looked determined. 'I'm going to ask him.'

'What?' hissed Hermione, alarmed. 'Ginny, don't even bother. He'll just insult you and I highly doubt he'll give you even the merest hint of an answer.'

'So?' Ginny asked. 'Insults are nothing, and I'm sure he won't try anything, not when it'd be a three-on-one fight. And you never know, he may just answer me.'

Ron shook his head at his sister. 'He wouldn't. And Mum will be mad. She told us not to have anything to do with him, remember? Loads of times. If she finds out…'

'She won't,' Ginny said confidently. 'I'm only going to ask, and it'll take her another few minutes at least to make the sandwiches. She won't find out…'

And then, before Hermione and Ron could offer another protest, she had stood up, crossed her arms, and looked straight towards the corner where Malfoy stood. 'Hey, Malfoy,' she called, her voice firm and bold, 'why are you here?'

He didn't even pause, didn't turn around. 'Mind your own business, Weasley.' He spat venomously.

Ginny was unperturbed. 'I think it is my business, considering we were here first, and its we who have to put up with you for the next month. Answer my question; why are you here?'

Now he spun round to face her, temper snapped and eyes flaring, showing a very real, very dark fire that startled them all. 'Just shut up, Weasley,' he spat. 'Shut the hell up and leave me alone!'

She stood her ground. 'I only wanted to know why you were here. I don't think that's a cause for you to fly off the handle…'

'Well it is!' he spat. 'I don't want you prying into my life and asking questions, alright? Perhaps if you weren't as dense as your stupid mother is…'

'Hey!' Ron said, glaring and getting to his feet, 'don't you dare insult my family!' By the side of the bath, Hermione held a hand to her face and silently hoped it wouldn't turn to violence.

'And what will you do to me?' Malfoy asked, the unusual light leaving his eyes and his accustomed smirk settling on his face. 'Fight me? I know spells that could get you back ten times worse.'

'There's detectors for Dark Arts all over this house.' Ron said firmly. 'Dumbledore put them up. People would be in here in seconds.

'Yes, but that wouldn't put your intestines back inside your mutilated corpse, would it?' Malfoy asked with a smile as thin and sharp as a knife, making Ron gulp. Malfoy continued. 'You Weasleys have only three brain cells. One to eat,' he counted on slender, elegant fingers, 'One to sleep. And the third and final one is there to remember which does which.'

Ron went bright red, trembling with rage, but Hermione grabbed hold of his hand and hissed, 'Leave it alone! He's not worth it.'

'Drop dead, Malfoy.' Ginny hissed, before turning her back on him and going back to the cleaning. Ron, still quivering with anger, stomped back over to the bath and began scrubbing viciously at a tough bit of grime attached to the tap. The bathroom fell back to a grim, angry silence punctuated by occasional muttered expletives from Ron.

When Mrs. Weasley returned with the sandwiches, Malfoy's plate has fewer than anyone else's, and the ones he did have were definitely slightly smaller.

'Serves him right,' muttered Ron.

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A/N: And that's the end of the chapter. An important chapter in the way of character-development, though it might create more questions than it answers. But in the next chapter we get Harry's arrival  - which obviously adds more drama – and soon after that, there's another part where things really begin to develop…

But for now, review. Reviews make writers happy, and happy writers mean more fanfic!