AN- If you're still reading this I have three things to say to you. Thank you. You're amazing. Want to be my beta reader? If you have any interest you can leave your email in a review and I will contact you ASAP.

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"CRUCIO!"

Draco is on the ground now. He had a death grip on his head-he felt like it would explode.

But he would not scream.

He wouldn't.

His knuckles begin to bleed.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

And as soon as his cry of weakness pierced the air, the curse had ended.

"That, my little quisling, was for being such an abjact recreant, and a disgrace to purebloods in general."

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The scenery is changing.

"Shall we continue that another time, then?" he asks, smirking, "I thought it was quite an engaging little game."'

She looks at him, surprised.

"Well, alright."

They are nearing the Weasley's doorstep now.

"Granger," Draco says, turning around to looking her square in the eyes, "all those things we talked about, they're-"

"to be strictly confidential. It's the rules."

He's looking at her gratefully, now. She turns away.

"So, how are we going to explain this?" he asks, with a shadow of a frown.

He hasn't frowned thoroughly in a while. He hears it could cause wrinkles, or something dreadful like that.

"We aren't explaining anything because we didn't do a thing!" she bursts out, suddenly snappish.

"Why, yes we di-"

"No Malfoy, not we. YOU. My name is not to be dragged into this scrape."

She is shoving his shoulders now.

"The question is, how are you going to explain this?"

His voice is a raspy hiss the next time he speaks.

"I know this might be painfully difficult for you, but you are not to touch me ever. Again."

He forcibly rips her hands off of him, and in the summer heat, she shivers.

"Why are you so damn weak, Granger? One moment you're acting on impulse and the next you're so con-fucking-cerned about what you're friends think that you're delusional enough to believe that you're name is still golden-that you're still perfectly innocent. Because let's be real, you have to be, or they won't accept you."

His eyes are as callous as stone.

Her benign orbs are hazing over with fear and revulsion.

The first time he saw that look, he thought she was revolted with him.

This time it's clearly self-loathing.

And then there is a flicker in his eyes. It is comforting for her to know that he can still feel.

It isn't so comforting when she recognizes that spark though.

It's the one he had before he first called her a mudblood. She remembers his eyes before the Cedric Diggory buttons lit up. The same glint was there before he conducted the first round of Weasley is Our King.

This is the look Malfoy reserves for those times when he's just found your weakness and is about to expose it.

"And it scares the hell out of you, because you know every single word I say is true."

She inhales deeply in an attempt to steady her voice.

"That, is not. True."

But she can't help it; her voice is shaking now.

"Admit to me that I'm right about everything and I won't walk into this wretched little hovel and tell every person I see that you knocked out Scarface, forced me to climb up a hill with you, and proceeded to teach me a worthless muggle game."

He's looming over her now.

"Admit it, Granger."

Her eyes are dangerously thin. She purses her lips and chokes out her words softly.

"Iguessyou'right."

He takes a step forward and she instinctively scoots back until her spine is in contact with something solid.

"You're really shouldn't mumble, Granger."

He swoops down so that they're hardly a breadth away.

His eyes are searching for hers, but she's looking at the ground.

When she meets them, she shrinks back against the wall even more.

They're chilling.

"Say. It. Again."

She never would have done it if he wasn't pissing her off, confusing the hell out of her, and smelling like heaven all at the same time.

"You're. Right."

Her accent is clipped and clear.

She reflects on what it was like to have dignity.

"Why, that's all I need to hear."

His hand is coming toward her and she flinches and tries to become one with the wall.

A blonde eyebrow arches flawlessly and a Slytherin smirks.

"Could you do me a favor, Granger darling?"

His breath is fanning across her face.

She can't think of anyone else who could sweet talk her and use her surname all in one breath.

She freezes in trepidation as she anticipates his next move. They're so close now that if one of them stepped an inch forward there would be no space between them at all. Just heat.

"Could you move that little body of yours so that I can open the door?"

She's blushing like mad and she's not sure why she's embarrassed at all.

"..wow, that fish impression of yours is getting pretty impressive," he says, chuckling at her indignance.

She relaxes, visibly, and let's out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

The door opens to reveal an irate Ron Weasley.

"Why the bloody hell is Malfoy here?"

His wand is at said enemy's neck, but Draco remains passive.

"I'm not attacking you Weasley. I'm not even reminding you that you're ugly, mediocre, p-"

"Ron. What Malfoy means to say is that-"

"I can speak for myself, you know, woman."

"Well this really isn't the way to make a great first impression."

"It's not exactly a first impression."

"I'm only trying to help you, you know."

Ron was speechless as he watched his best friend banter with Draco Malfoy with a mannerism not unlike his parents.

Ew.

"Somebody want to tell me WHAT is going on before I KILL him?"

Things are tense again.

There is silence.

"HERMIONE GRANGER, tell me RIGHT NOW, why I came back to my home to find my parents and Harry unconscious while you're off on a god damned stroll with this MURDERER."

Draco glares at her.

She'd better not take that from him, he thinks.

"Well, Ron, Malfoy, he c-came in and everyone was stupefied or knocked out and he only left me awake because he knew that you and Ha-harry would go into a blind rage the moment you saw him and I would be the only-the only logical one. He has something that he wants to say to everyone."

Draco doesn't remember having ever heard her stutter before.

"Please don't do anything rash, Ronald."

She looked like a puppy who had just been hit by a newspaper for no good reason.

"You're the LOGICAL one, Hermione? More like female. What did he do for you, huh? A quick shag? I mean, I know that you're probably starving for that kind of attention, but from HIM? That's just bloody pathetic!"

She'd better not take it.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she shoved past Ron and disappeared up the stairs before anyone had the chance to see her cry.

I cannot believe she just took that from him.

Draco sidesteps Ron and sits down on a chair, making himself comfortable and kicking Molly Weasley's inanimate body aside to make proper foot room.

Ron was glaring at a corner.

Way to go, fuckwit.

"Make them wake up."

Surprisingly, Draco does a few silent spells and the whole crowd is slowly coming back to consciousness.

Arthur Weasley scratches his head and raises a very important question

"Wha' hap-"

But nobody can stop Harry Potter from attacking Draco Malfoy in that moment.

The raven-haired boy is driven by human instinct. He wants to avenge his own. His wand is long forgotten and his hands are encircling his enemy's neck.

"Where's Hermione, Malfoy? What'd you do to her?"

And Draco can't breath until Harry loosens his grip, but somehow his voice is composed as he speaks.

"She's safe and sound, Potter. She's upstairs."

"I don't believe you! Last time I saw her she sent a spell at me. She doesn't just do that Malfoy. What'd you do? Is she under the Imperious? I swear to God Malfoy if you've cast an Unforgivable on her you are never going to see the light of day again. If you aren't thrown into Azkaban with a life sentence I will kill you MYSELF."

Draco's voice isn't so collected this time. He's wheezing for air, now.

"Look at me, Potter. I have my wand but I'm not using it. I did. Not. Touch. Her."

No one dares break the silence that ensues until

"Harry, dear, loosen your grip a little! We can't figure this out until he gives us an explanation, and he can't do that if he's dead."

Mrs. Weasley was clutching her side but she didn't know why it stung.

Draco takes a deep inhale.

"Here's my wand, Potter. Take it. I need you to relax for a minute and listen to me."

Harry grabs the wand and inspects it; it's definitely the real thing.

"I'm going to make some tea to calm my nerves. Wouldn't hurt for any of you to have some either."

The room is officially free of women; the real negotiating can begin.

"Have a seat, Mr. Malfoy, and tell us what your business here is."

Draco desperately wants to say that he'd never do any sort of business with a stupid plebeian like Weasley.

"First thing first. I need all of you to know that I am not a Death Eater. I have not been marked."

His sleeve is pulled upward and Harry is shocked, to say the least.

"But, you, you killed Dumbledore!"

Ron never did have good timing.

Draco becomes cold and detatched.

"Let's set it straight, shall we? I may be responsible for his death, but I did not kill him. I have not killed."

"And I suppose you could have called that my failure of an initiation."

He lets out a bitter laugh.

"What, do you expect us to trust you or something? To take you in as a double spy? Damned lot of good that did for Dumbledore! Do you expect us to accept you like we did Snape? Thanks to you and that git, Professor Dumbledore is gone, and that kind of kindness gone with him."

"I am a rogue, Potter. I have left Voldemort's circle. Forget what you know about me. Give me another chance; judge me now, for who I am."

Potter is glaring at him disapprovingly.

How can he give a second chance to the man who caused the death of his guardian?

Draco can see the hurt in his eyes. His words are scathing.

"Or am I to be blamed for a crime I did not commit?"

Arthur Weasley asks Draco to please help Molly in the kitchen; they need to talk privately.

He never knew what they had said during his absence, but somehow this curse let them see everything.

"Harry, I know that this is hard for you. Really hard. But I think Albus would have wanted you to give him a chance."

Ron is still sulking.

"What do you think about it, Ron? What happened while I was gone?"

"Well, I opened the door and Hermione and Malfoy were getting all cozy. So you know, I yellledatherandmadeherfeelikeawhore."

"Wait! Why were they outside of the door? What do you mean by getting cozy? And I couldn't hear that last part..."

"They had gone on a walk or something. And he was...talking to her."

Ron's ashamed at how innocent it sounds when he says it out loud.

"..But he was all hunched over and they were really close. "

Potter looks like he's waiting for something.

"So they were talking outside and you opened the door and..."

"Yelled at Hermione."

"Oh gods, Ron!" Harry is quite aggravated, now, "You're the reason she's hiding upstairs!"

Damn right he was.

"I just-it just made me really mad to see her with him! She was trying to help him- like, like she trusted him or something."

"Well, if she trusts him...maybe you should give him a chance."

Arthur Weasley pauses to choose his words very carefully.

"She's never been wrong before."

"Mr. Weasley," Harry says, not making eye contact, "Dumbledore was never wrong before, either."

Mr. Weasley hunches forward and speaks in a heated whisper.

"But think, Harry! Think how useful it would be to have the Malfoy boy on our side!"

Harry casts a look at Ron who shrugs his shoulders.

"It's your call, mate. You know what they say: keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

Weasel.

"Malfoy!", Potter barks.

Draco enters with Mrs. Weasley behind him.

"Okay Malfoy. Listen up. I figure if you've betrayed them and whatnot, the death eaters are after that pasty arse of yours. You may stay here while we figure out what the arrangements will be. You are on very thin ground. You must be courteous to the Weasley's, Hermione, and myself; you should be pretty damned grateful that you're here. No one can know where you're staying. A Death Eater raid isn't the best 'thank you' present, agreed? I will call a meeting with the Order, soon. For now, I reserve judgement. One toe out of line and you're on the streets. Are we understood?"

Who the hell do you think I am?

No, no, and absolutely not.

"Yes, Potter, we're understood."