A/N
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Chapter 33
Harry
The sound of the doorbell echoes through the house, and Hermione pauses in our duelling, a slip of a smile etched upon her face.
"Hear that?" She asks, her face turned up beatifically.
Sirius saddles over to the corner and wipes a towel over his head, mopping up the sweat. We've been working with Nate on synchronizing attacks with the twin cores. Sirius got to play Death Eater. His chest is heaving in exertion, and I smirk at him when he sees me staring out of the corner of my eye.
My Godfather gives me the bird.
He's lucky Mi doesn't catch him.
Nate puts his head back and crows in laughter.
"No," I say curiously, turning my attention back to my wife. I don't hear anything now that the ringing of the bell has stopped.
"Exactly!" Hermione breathes. "No screaming, no stains of dishonour, no insults to you and ours. Sweet, beautiful, silence."
I drop my chin to my chest and laugh, then toss my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side. She turns her face up to me expectantly, and I place a kiss on her forehead, still chuckling at her enthusiasm.
Remus sticks his head into the training room.
"Snape is here," he says, leaning against the door frame.
"What does Snivillis want from me this time?" Sirius asks, his sneer overly pronounced.
Remus shakes his head.
"He's not here for you."
Hermione perks up.
"Is he here to help me with potions? He said he'd owl to set up a time."
I scowl at the thought of Mi having anything to do with that wanker, but as usual, she's right. If I'm learning to kill people then she should learn how to keep me alive. Snape provides all the healing potions for the castle. He's really the only one who can help her.
Though I don't know why she needs help. She got the Wolfsbane brewing just fine on her own. By the time he comes to his transformation, Remus will be a harmless wolf.
"Not you either," Mooney says. "He's asking for Harry."
"Harry?" Hermione demands, turning her attention to Remus. "Whatever for?"
I feel more than see Nate come to attention on the training mat, his back rigid and ready to fight.
Remus shrugs, his hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.
"He wouldn't say. But he did request we hurry up about it. He hasn't got all day to lounge around, unlike some of us."
I roll my eyes at the intended insult, already at the end of my patience, and I haven't even spoken with the greasy git yet.
"Lead the way, Moony," I say, gesturing with my hand for him to proceed with us. Sirius walks up to my side, handing me the duplicate sword, and I slip it into the scabbard across my back. Nate steps up behind us, pulling his hair out of its tail and gathering up the stray bits before redoing the knot.
Remus leads us into the kitchen, where most of the Weasleys are gathered around the table. Neville is spending the afternoon outside with Winky attempting to breathe life back into the garden. Mrs. Weasley is hovering by the stove, a kettle of water on to boil.
Snape is standing by the door, black robes around his feet, his sneer prominent and his nose upturned.
Does he ever wear anything besides black?
"You bellowed, Snape," I say, as I follow Remus and Sirius into the kitchen. Remus and Sirius both take positions at my flank, with Mi at my left side. Her wand is bare in her hands. Nate leans against the back wall.
"That's Professor Snape to you," he declares, his hands up the opposite side of his sleeves.
"On September first. Until then, you're a guest in my ancestral home. What do you want?"
I can hear Sirius sniggering behind me.
"Draco requests an audience."
The sniggering drops off like a leaky faucet being stoppered.
My spine straightens immediately, a spike of energy zinging through my limbs. I feel Mi's excitement beside me, for all she doesn't move a muscle.
"Where is he? Does he need medical attention?"
Snape seems to hesitate, weighing his words before he responds. I can tell the answer pains him to admit.
"He'll be suffering the aftereffects of the Cruciatus for several days to come, but otherwise he is hale and whole. I wish you to know, Potter, that everything that has befallen him, can be laid at your feet. He—" Snape takes a breath, his eyes closing as if he's in pain. "He acted impetuously in the Dark Lord's presence. Draco—" Again, Snape seems to gather himself before continuing. "Spoke, in a manner that displeased his Lord, about subjects he had no right questioning."
I tighten my fists at my sides and pray to Merlin that Snape can't see the flinch in my eyes. I know what it's like to be on the other side of Riddle's Cruciatus. It isn't a pleasant experience.
So, Draco asked about the Department of Mysteries or why Riddle is obsessed with a fifteen-year-old boy. Good for him. I just hope it didn't cause him any lasting damage.
Snape looks me in the eye, and all I can see is the burning hate behind them. But whether it's strictly for me today, or I'm sharing the spot of honour with his Dark Lord, I couldn't be sure.
"He wishes to plead sanctuary. The idea you so moronically put into his head."
Ron shoves up from the table, practically vibrating in rage.
"You want to let another snake into headquarters? It's a trick, obviously, Harry. You let Malfoy in here and you'll be bowing before You-Know-Who by dinnertime."
"Ronald," Hermione hisses, as the other Weasley's start to make their displeasure known.
I raise my hand beside me, and the kitchen falls silent again.
"Where is he?" I ask, worried about an unarmed and exposed Draco sitting in the square out front. "You didn't leave him in the Manor, did you. Or sitting outside on the stoop?"
Snape's look of disgust is only mounting.
"Waiting to be summoned."
I lift my brow in question, wanting more information than that.
"I hadn't realized the Wizarding community had another Lord gathering followers. He is safe, Lord Potter," Snape replies with a mocking bow. "That's all you need to know."
"It's Potter-Black," my wife hisses, and Merlin, I've never loved her more.
"Go get him," I demand to Snape, and lift my flattened hand again when another round of protest breaks from the gathered crowd.
"As my liege commands."
His voice drips with venom.
With a glance that would kill me, if he had that capability, Snape strides from the room, his robes billowing behind him. As soon as he's out of sight, the protests begin.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Harry. You can't let Malfoy in here. He'll betray us the first chance he gets. He's a Slytherin for fuck's sake!"
Mrs. Weasley hisses at her son, but Ron is too bent out of shape to pay her any mind.
"You told me to tell you when you're being mental. Well, you're being mental as fuck, aren't you!" Ron barks at me.
"Go grab Neville," I tell him, ignoring the way his face pinks and his fists tighten. "I want him at my back."
He doesn't move.
I turn to face my Godfather, Remus at his side. Their faces are both grim, though Sirius, with his knowledge of what we've told him, looks at least somewhat eager at the turn of events.
"This is quicker than I was expecting," I say, and watch as the words settle over Remus's face.
"When?" Sirius asks.
"Next summer, maybe."
Which means Malfoy is turning from Riddle a year sooner than I was expecting and almost three years before he started showing hesitation the last time.
Remus blanches, somehow following the conversation despite the missing pieces.
"Call the other Order Members," I request. "Tell them what's happened. Get as many here as possible."
"I'll send a Patronus to Dumbledore," Remus says, already pulling his wand.
They turn as one to send their messages. I watch until their retreating backs disappear down the way.
I face my best friend, his anger burning the tips of his ears red.
"Look. If we don't like what he has to say, we'll obliviate him and send him on his way. But I'm not leaving one person in the hands of Voldemort if it's within my power to prevent it. Draco could be an ally for us if you could get over your prejudice."
Ron looks a heartbeat from exploding, and storms past us out of the kitchen, shoving the chairs roughly out of his way as he goes. The Twins, however, look contemplative, turning to each other and sharing thoughts probably in the same way Hermione and I can.
"Tea, Harry? Hermione dear?"
Hermione nods to Mrs. Weasley, going to the other side of the kitchen to help prepare us each a cuppa.
The chaos of Grimmauld Place buzzes around us. Despite its massive size, the kitchen is always thrumming in activity.
The sounds of the Floo whooshes to life and I turn to welcome the newest members of our party.
Tonks appears, promptly tripping over her own feet.
"Wotcher Harry," she grins at me, her bubblegum pink hair slicked back from her head in a poof.
"I thought you were assigned to guard Neville," I ask her without preamble. "Why weren't you already here?"
She lifts her eyebrow, and I blush slightly at my sharp tone.
"Sorry," I say sheepishly. "Ignore that. You don't report to me. I'm just nervous." She winks at me instead of answering.
I watch as her eyes slide to Remus and hide my smile inside my dwindling cup of tea.
Moody arrives next, shaking ash from his cloak.
"Are they here yet?" he demands, his blue eye swivelling to take in the expanse of the house.
"Not yet," Remus says, leaning back against the wall.
"Are we sure this isn't some trap," Moody asks, his paranoia justified this time.
"Yes," I say, standing up and turning to face him, leaning back with my hands against the table.
I push my glasses up my nose, unsure how to admit what I did.
"Before school let out after I battled Voldemort, I cornered Draco in the hallway. I told him—" I don't want to admit what I told him. I want to stay out of Order business, as much as I'm able. I'm concerned about Riddle. The others can deal with everything else. If I admit I told Draco about Riddle's obsession with the Department of Mysteries before I was supposed to know about it, that's just going to open up more questions I don't want to answer.
"Let's just say I rattled his cage. I told him that when the time came he was ready to free himself from Voldemort's service to come to me, and I'd offer him refuge. I have to confess; however, I wasn't expecting it to happen this quickly. Something awful had to have happened, for Draco to seek me out before barely a month has passed."
The doorbell rings and Mrs. Weasley takes a deep breath before scurrying out of the kitchen, heading for the front door.
"This room is too cramped," Moody decides. "The parlour. Move."
As one we head into the parlour, the Aurors taking up positions of defence in corners, the Weasley boys palming their wands and falling into ranks at my back. Ron stands shoulder to shoulder with Neville, right behind me. Hermione takes her place at my side, in the middle of the room, waiting for our guests to appear.
"This is a stupid idea," Ron grumbles loudly.
I almost fall over in surprise when Neville replies before I can.
"I'd rather have Malfoy where I can see him than have him planning something behind my back."
Ron shuts up with a scowl after that.
Mrs. Weasley appears first, wringing her hands in front of her. She walks over to the corner with Ginny and Remus.
Snape's presence is like a thundercloud. Stormy despite the calm of the ocean.
Draco trails his Godfather, his skin as pale and wan as I've ever seen. His hands have a small tremble, and the veins in his throat stand out in stark contrast with the thinness of his flesh. He's dressed in head to toe black; dress shirt, slacks, wing-tipped shoes.
It does nothing to help his pallor.
Snape slides to the side and back, allowing Draco to step in front of me.
Draco's eyes skim the observers to his plight, and his hands tighten at his sides.
"How, Potter?" Draco demands, his eyes wild for all that he's attempting to give his best Pure Blood facade. "How could you possibly have known?"
Internally, I sag in relief that Draco doesn't repeat what I told him before the summer hols. There are only four people in this room who know for sure what happened to Hermione and me, and I intend to keep it that way. I know the others suspect something…hell, Remus has all but asked outright. But only Ron and Sirius know for sure, and I'm not eager to field a host of questions about my knowledge of the future.
"What did he ask you to do?"
"You mean beyond his repulsive obsession with a boy half his size?"
I smirk at hearing my words from June parroted back at me.
"Yeah, other than that."
He hesitates for only a moment before he answers.
"Rape Daphne Greengrass."
I've never heard his voice so flat.
Gasps echo in the parlour. Mrs. Weasley reaches for Ginny, holding her only daughter tight to her chest. Ginny doesn't put up a fight but turns so her eyes never leave Draco.
"Her father refused to take the mark. The Dark Lord gifted her to me as a thank you for our family's allegiance. He hung her father in our drawing-room, then gave me a silver leash ending with a collar around her throat."
Hermione's hand latches onto mine, her nails digging into my skin. The older members move as one, rescue plans for an unknown Slytherin daughter already being bandied about.
That didn't happen last time, Hermione breathes into my mind.
I know, I reply, then shut our link, determined not to let her see my fear.
"Where are they now?"
My free hand flexes at my side, needing a sword or wand to feel complete. Either would suffice.
Draco's entire being spasms, and I lurch forward with my arms out, in case he starts to fall. He gathers himself quickly though, rising to his already considerable height. He steps away from my offered help, determined to stand on his own.
My eyes flick to Snape over his shoulder to find that he too had his hands out, ready to support his fallen Godson. He's wearing a look I've only seen once before.
The night he killed Dumbledore. Revulsion and hatred fill the lines of his face as he listens to his Godson's tale.
Snape is risking his life, simply by being here.
How far would he go, to save the only facsimile of a family he has?
How far did he go?
Hermione is affecting my brain. Snape is evil. That's the end.
I concentrate on Draco again.
"While the Dark Lord was busy amusing himself with my torture, my mother got both Greengrass girls away. They're halfway to America by now. Their father is dead. Probably still hanging in my drawing-room."
As a reminder of what happens when you tell the Dark Lord no.
Seems to be the place Voldemort likes to do his killing.
"Your mother, is she—?
He interrupts me before I finish the question.
"My mother holds no love for the Dark Lord. She enjoys the rape and torture of children even less. She'll do what she must, to keep us alive. No more, no less."
"But is she safe?" I ask him, suddenly insanely worried about a woman I don't know.
"As safe as she can be, with the Dark Lord living in her home." Snape answers from behind him.
Relief crashes through me so fiercely my legs go weak.
A picture of Narcissa rises to the forefront of my mind. Pale and afraid, willing to do anything to keep her son safe.
My mother did the same, even if they did it in different ways.
There's a challenge in his glare. In the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his brow. We've never gotten along, not in this life or the last. But somehow, I feel like one way or the other, we would have found our way to this moment eventually. Me needing him on my side and him needing me to save him.
Save them.
What would have happened if we hadn't died on his drawing-room floor? Would Draco have helped us escape? After all, he'd already betrayed his Dark Lord.
"Can you defeat him?" He asks me boldly, and I feel weighed, measured, and found distinctly lacking.
I try not to show my doubt.
"He hasn't killed me yet," I reply, the most honest thing I can think of to say. "Not one that's stuck anyway. And it certainly isn't for lack of trying on his part. What I can promise you is that I'll do everything in my power to end him. But if I don't, well, everyone in this room will be dead anyway, so at least you won't suffer long."
Sirius barks out a laugh at that. Moody grumbles under his breath, his blue eye whirring non-stop in his head. Mrs. Weasley whimpers.
Draco nods, somehow buoyed by my pessimistic words.
"It'll be easy enough to verify his story, Pup," Sirius supplies from behind me, "but that still doesn't mean we can trust him."
Without another word, Draco falls to his knees. He bows his head, his eyes closed in supplication.
"I request the sanctuary of my kin, Cousin, to shelter me from the cold, to warm me at his hearth, and to protect me from harm from those who would wrong me."
I feel Sirius step up behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder. He gives it a squeeze, and I take it for confirmation that I'm supposed to answer.
Sirius is his family, however obscure that link may be. But Sirius forfeited his right to inheritance, raising me in his stead. The acceptance of Draco's plea falls to me.
I offer you the sanctuary of your kin…
The answering reply flows from Hermione's mind and slips from between my lips.
"I offer you the sanctuary of your kin," I say haltingly, the words heavy with power. "I will shelter you with my roof, feed you from my table, and defend you from those that would offer you harm." Draco looks at me from under his lashes. I know the rest without Hermione's prompting. "If I shall fail in my task, and violence does befall you, I promise to avenge your death."
Draco lifts his hand, and a dozen wands raise in his direction. Draco looks nowhere but at me, as he places his wand to cover his heart.
"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, hereby swear my fealty and loyalty to Harry James Potter-Black, Heir of House Potter, Heir of House Black, Heir of Godric Gryffindor, until such time the Dark Lord," Draco seems to get stuck on the words and roughly clears his throat. "Until Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort has been defeated. Or until my death, whichever comes before."
A stream of magic pours from his wand and weaves around me like a snake, curling from my feet upwards. Its touch is warm and comforting, and I feel the power of the vow settle into my bones like a weight I can touch.
Hermione gasps in shock and awe, her surprise echoed by every person present.
I have to clear my throat before I can respond.
"I accept your vow and welcome your fealty to the house of your foremothers."
The tension in the parlour is so thick I can see it shimmer around us. The world itself seems to hold its breath, while someone thinks of what to say.
"Bloody Hell," Ron breaks the silence, and the room takes a collective gulp of air. Ron pushes out from behind us.
"Like hell if Malfoy is going to one-up me."
He pivots on his foot, facing me directly, before dropping to his knees beside Draco.
"Ron, don't," I cry out, but it's too late.
He lifts his wand and repeats the vow.
"I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, do hereby swear my fealty and loyalty to Lady Hermione Jean Potter-Black," Hermione sighs in resignation beside me, "and Harry James Potter-Black; Heir of House Potter, Heir of House Black, Heir of Godric Gryffindor, until such time as Lord Voldemort has been defeated. Or until my death, whichever comes before."
He stutters over the word Voldemort, but it makes no difference to the vow. The magic dips and circles us in determined energy until it too settles under our skin.
The look he gives Draco is pure loathing, but Draco only rolls his eyes in disgust before climbing to his feet.
"I trust that will satisfy, Potter?" Draco asks with his usual disdain back in his voice. His eyes flick between Hermione and me, noticing for the first time the matching signet rings on our fingers. A look of calculation passes over his face, gone as quickly as it arrived.
The need to run him through with my sword to keep Hermione safe almost brings me to my knees.
I turn to the elder members of the order, who all concur with varying nodding shrugs.
"Yeah," I agree. "That'll do it."
The tension in the room doesn't dissipate but instead seems to shift. Now that Draco is with us, no matter how unpleasant his joining may be to some, we have other worries to concern ourselves about.
Moody asks the first question.
"How will they explain your absence to Voldemort?"
Snape steps into the middle of the circle.
"Timing and luck were on Draco's side. Daphne's disappearance wasn't noticed until Draco's was. Draco is young and foolish. He allowed the Greengrass girl to lead him astray. His mother is bereft, for fear that he is lost to them forever. The Dark Lord was amused that Draco allowed his prick to make such a rash decision. After all, other, more worthy women could have been provided for young Mr. Malfoy to bed."
Draco looks a heartbeat away from throwing up. He sways on his feet again. Sirius is not the only man in the room suddenly growling like a dog.
Snape turns his nose up in disgust, for once appearing to agree with those around him.
"Indeed. Word has gone out to all our Lord's followers that if Draco is found, he is to be brought home immediately. However, I do not believe the Dark Lord is overly concerned about Draco's absence. I have been given orders to notify the Malfoy residence if Draco appears at school this year, and to teach him the error of his ways in whichever means I see fit."
If we play this right and Snape plays his part, hopefully Riddle won't be worried about Draco until he doesn't appear on the train at the end of the next school year. With it being OWL year, most students will stay at the castle during the hols anyway.
"Do they expect him to go back to Hogwarts?" Tonks asks, surprise clear on her face.
Snape turns to address the Auror.
"Honestly, I do not think the Dark Lord cares one way or another about young Malfoy's whereabouts. If Draco is with his family, then he is a means to force Lucius into compliance. If Draco is not with his family, then Draco's absence can be used as a form of torture and punishment. It is not until his allegiance to the Order is revealed that…" Snape hesitates, and we all know what will happen if Voldemort finds out Draco is here. The torture and murder of his parents. "…That complications will ensue."
"He won't find out from us," Remus says firmly, the others agreeing in turn.
The image of Draco in that bathroom at Hogwarts flares behind my eyes. Sobbing, hands gripping the sink like it was the only thing keeping him on his feet. The only comfort to be had, that of a ghost. No comfort at all. The life of every person he loves, held in ransom against him.
"Did you need us for anything else, Potter?"
I'm pulled from my ruminations by the deep roughness of Moody's voice. He's moved into the middle of the circle surrounding Draco, the other participants to the impromptu oath-taking scattering in different directions to go back to their previous activities.
"No," I tell him, reaching out to shake his hand. "Thanks for coming on such short notice. I didn't want to make any decisions without the Order being aware."
"You did good, boy," he says, then leans forward and lowers his voice. "What did you say to him that made him fear you more than Voldemort?"
I shrug, the heaviness of the sword a steadying presence against my back. Draco is in the corner, quietly speaking with Snape. Our eyes meet in the middle, and he dips his chin at me, before turning his attention back to the Potions professor.
"Nothing," I say, looking Moody in the eye. "He's not afraid of me, he's afraid of dying. He'd have gotten here on his own eventually. Draco was raised by bad people, but he isn't a bad person. Not completely. You heard him. His mother just wants to survive. All I did was offer him a different path to salvation."
"Pft," Moody grunts, then leads the others away until only the younger generation remain.
"This'll be fun," the twins say in unison, grinning ear to ear.
"Leave off him you two," I order them.
Draco looks distinctly uneasy, like a snake alone in the lion's den.
"Right then," Fred says, "We've work to do," George continues, "After," they say together, then drop to a single knee.
"Bloody hell, not you too," I moan, but it does little to stop their progress. A third and fourth vow, spoken in synchronous, settles against my skin. As one, the twins rise, then with a solute to me and a horrifying smirk in Draco's direction, disappear from the parlour.
I pivot on my feet to face Neville, who had already raised his wand. I shove my finger in his face.
"Not a word, Neville, " I snarl. "Not one word." He hurries to nod at me, throat bobbing, but there's a determined gleam in his eye that I really don't like.
"Malfoy," Ron sneers, trying and failing to intimate Draco standing five feet away from us.
"Weasel," Draco replies, having regained some of his color, now that it's just the six of us in the room. He gives a mocking bow in Ginny's direction. "Weaselette." Ginny is perched on a tabletop in the corner, content to watch the play by play. "Loooongbottom. Enjoying your time in the spotlight?"
Neville growls deep in his chest, resting his hands on each of his forearms. Caressing his wands in their holsters.
Draco is a heartbeat from learning in a painful way what we've been doing all summer.
"We're on the same team now guys," Hermione admonishes them. "Try not to kill each other."
She squeezes my hand.
"Dobby," Hermione calls, and the little elf appears before her. Draco does a double-take at his former house-elf wearing a miniaturized Potter jersey appearing at Hermione's summons.
"Are you busy, Dobby?"
Dobby bows to her, his nose touching the carpet.
"No, mistress. Dobby has been in the library, completing this week's assignments. Did you need something, mistress?"
Hermione beams at him, pride for Dobby's progress in his learning flush on her face.
"If you don't mind, Dobby, could you get a room prepared for Draco?" Dobby looks over his shoulder, shrinking away when he sees Malfoy standing behind him.
"M-Master Draco is going to be living with Dobby's Master and Mistress?" the tiny elf squeaks, moving to cower behind Hermione's leg.
Hermione shoots Draco a dirty look, condemning him in silence for Dobby's sudden fear.
Draco rolls his eyes but drops down into a squat.
"It's good to see you again, Dobby. I apologize for the way my father treated you, but I promise, you have no reason to fear me. Missy misses you terribly; I told her if I ever saw you again, I'd pass along that message."
"You's not be taking orders from your father anymore?" Dobby asks, peeking his head out from behind Hermione's knees.
"No, Dobby. That's why I am here." Draco makes a face like something tastes sour in his mouth, before he says, "Harry helped free me, just like he did you."
"That's right!" Dobby agrees, moving out from behind Hermione and gaining enthusiasm for his subject. "Dobby is a free elf!" He jabs himself in his chest. "Dobby serves his Master and Mistress because he loves them, not because he is forced. Harry Potter is the defender of House Elves! Harry Potter is a great Wizard, as is his 'Mi!"
Without another word, Dobby pops away, seemingly to ready a room for Draco's use.
Ron sniggers under his breath, and Draco swats invisible dust from his pants, before rising to his full height.
"His 'Mi?" Draco asks in a drawling tone.
"That would be me," Hermione sighs, a blush filling her cheeks. I press a kiss on her forehead.
"Defender of House Elves, muggles, and pure-bloods alike, eh Potter," he snarks sarcastically, and I can't help but smile in response.
"Something like that," I say.
Uncomfortable silence settles in the space between us.
It's awkward.
Very very awkward.
"So, Potter. Married to the mudblood? Whatcha do, knock her up?"
And suddenly, everything feels normal once again.
Hermione stiffens next to me. Ron growls, his fists tightening in anger. Neville steps up to Hermione's side, both wands in his fists. Then he looks me in the eye.
Do it, he seems to say.
With pleasure.
I tilt my head in Draco's direction, and Ron eats the five feet between them in two steps, pulls back, and buries his clenched fist in Draco's gut.
Draco collapses to the ground in a groan, and Ron steps on his back before storming from the room. Malfoy squeaks at the impact, his lungs forcefully expelling air even though it doesn't look like he's sucking any back in yet. His face is turning an alarming shade of red, his mouth flopping open like a fish.
Ginny follows Ron, stepping over Malfoy's prone form.
"Really, Ronald," Hermione lectures, following the other two out of the room. "Was that necessary?"
The words are right, but the tone is all wrong for one of Hermione's patented reprimands.
Neville kicks Malfoy, but stumbles over his own feet in his rush to follow Hermione out the door. Luckily Malfoy is too busy suffocating to harass Neville for his clumsiness.
I squat on the floor next to Draco, watching as air finally eases past his diaphragm and oxygen floods his bloodstream.
"Not married," I say casually. "Bonded Mates." His eyes widen, his head pulling back to see me through the tears of oxygen deprivation dripping down his cheeks. From the look on his face, Malfoy's pureblood education left him privy to the importance of that announcement. He gasps and coughs, his body desperate to resume its normal functions.
"That information doesn't leave this house. Swear it," I growl.
"I swear on my magic," he squeezes out between clenched teeth.
I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am, but it feels good in a secret dark corner of my heart to see him squirming on the floor.
Old habits die hard and all that.
I pat Draco on the cheek.
"Good. Now. We can do this one of two ways, Malfoy. One, we try to ignore each other for however long this takes. You can stay out of our way, and we'll stay out of yours. But that's going to get old pretty damn fast."
Draco swallows audibly, his throat bobbing with the effort.
"Option two, you join us, for real. You're second in our year, behind Hermione. You're smart, resourceful. A decent dueler, from what I remember. I'm sure 'Mi would enjoy someone to talk to besides Remus who understands more than half of what she says without her needing to stop and explain it in little words for us. Join us, train with us, and when the time comes, fight with us. The choice is yours."
I pull the blade from my back.
It's not the real sword. Of course, Malfoy doesn't know that.
"But if I ever hear that foul word out of your mouth again, I will cut out your tongue."
Draco scowls at me but nods his agreement.
Dobby pops back into the room and grins at the sight of his former master cowering before his current lord.
"Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix," I say and leave him to Dobby's care.
A/N part 2
This was one of the first chapters I wrote. For all of the Draco haters out there, I'm not going to sugarcoat his personality, I promise. He's still a douche, but he's the Order's douche now.
I am not a linear writer, which means I write what comes to me, and then fill in the blanks. So if it ever takes me a week or two to update, it's because though all of the meaty parts are written, what happens next may not be.