Chapter 2

The veritaserum was bitter and left a foul taste in his mouth as it slid down his throat. Snape raised an eyebrow as Draco shuddered, no doubt holding back a remark about the quality of the potion.

"I'm sorry for these measures, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore said as he stood next to Draco's bed, "but we must take precautions. I promise we will keep the questions as unobtrusive as we can."

Draco nodded, determined to say as little as he possibly could. He glanced over to the doorway where Potter was leaning awkwardly on the doorframe. He looked apprehensive and concerned, but mustered an unconvincing smile when Draco looked over at him.

"Has it taken effect, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, and the Potions Master nodded. "Very well. Mr Malfoy, are you ready to begin?"

Again, Draco nodded, feeling his stomach flutter. He wasn't sure that he trusted any of them, but he had no choice but to put himself in their hands.

"If you could make your questions as unconvoluted as possible, headmaster," Snape said, his tone indicating how likely he thought that possibility would be. "It will help to ensure that no loopholes can be found where the truth is concerned."

"Right you are, my boy," Dumbledore said, crossing his hands behind his back. "Mr Malfoy, is your father responsible for your present condition?"

"Yes."

"Did he hurt you because you refused to join Voldemort?"

"Yes," Draco repeated, feeling the veritaserum urge him to say more, but he tried to fight it.

"Why have you decided not to join him?"

"Because I don't believe in his cause," Draco answered, glancing again at Potter. "I don't want to hurt or kill muggle-borns, and I don't want to fight against Potter and his army of do-gooders."

Potter snorted and Snape raised an eyebrow. Draco continued, "Potter and I have never been the best of friends, and I still think he's a colossal prat, but since the start of 7th year I've found myself wanting less and less to be pitted against him."

"I see," said Dumbledore, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Would you be willing to join our side of the fight or have you simply come seeking sanctuary?"

"I don't know. I didn't have a plan beyond trying to escape my father. I only knew that I needed to get out of the manor before he killed me."

"And now that you've had time to consider, what do you wish to do?" Dumbledore asked, and Draco knew he wasn't imagining the steely glint in the man's eyes.

"I'm no hero. I'm not here to wave my banner for the good and righteous, but I don't want Voldemort to gain power over this world. If that means joining with you and helping in the fight then so be it."

"Do you truly understand what that means? Do you know what you'll be giving up?"

Draco laughed harshly and said, "I've already given everything up! By defying my father I've relinquished everything I have, everything I ever was. I have no home, no money and no way to support myself."

"Then are you simply using us as a meal ticket?"

"There are easier ways to get charity," Draco said snidely. "I've already said that I'll fight to stop Voldemort, that I'll join your little crusade."

"And you have no intentions of spying on us?"

"None whatsoever. I have no desire to risk my neck in such a ridiculous fashion."

Draco saw Potter's eyes shift to Snape and the man himself was standing with pursed lips. "Ah," Draco said, "I didn't mean – "

"No indeed," Snape said, folding his arms across his chest.

"That's another point – will you promise not to reveal Professor Snape's role in gathering information?"

Again, Draco couldn't help but laugh. "Who am I going to tell? The very people who would want to know are the same ones who want me dead. I wouldn't be able to get within 50 feet of them before I was hexed."

"Fair enough," Dumbledore conceded.

There was silence for a moment and Draco looked from Dumbledore to Snape then back over to Potter. All three looked contemplative and Draco disliked feeling like a specimen under a microscope.

"So, what's my fate?" he asked irritably. "Did I pass your little test?"

"I think we can safely say that we don't believe you're a spy for Voldemort," Dumbledore said with a wry smile. "I am truly sorry for what has happened with your father."

"Spare me. I don't need sympathy, I just need to know what happens to me now."

"Sir," Potter said, stepping forward. "I think we're all agreed that Malfoy can't stay here. It isn't safe for him and I don't think it's safe for us either. I think he should stay at Grimmauld, at least for the remainder of the holidays."

"It's being used as Order headquarters," Snape said while Draco tried to follow the turn the conversation had taken. "The wards are such that currently only members of the Order can access it."

Potter took a deep breath, looking conflicted, before he said, "Then I guess Malfoy will have to be inducted into the Order."

"Potter – " Snape began.

"I'm not saying I'm crazy about the idea," Potter said, holding up a hand, "but Grimmauld is my property and I should have a say in who lives there. Malfoy should be inducted into the Order, with the proviso that Hermione and Ron are allowed to join too. I'm not having them excluded in favour of him."

"What the hell is this Order thing you're all banging on about? Perhaps I don't want to join it in the first place," Draco said, his patience thinning as the potions began to wear off and the pain began to kick in again.

"I'm not sure you have too much choice, Mr Malfoy," Snape said firmly. "Mr Potter has stated the terms of you living in his property, you can either accept and receive sanctuary or refuse and try your luck on your own."

Draco sighed heavily and said, "So, what is it then?"

"It is a company comprised of fighters against Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "Missions are undertaken, reconnaissance is carried out. I suppose you would call us a covert operation."

"Very fancy," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "In case it escaped your notice, I'm still in school."

"We've all been told that the last term will be nothing but revision," Potter said, obviously having found his voice. "You can do that at Grimmauld just as well as you can here. Besides, are you honestly telling me that you want to live in the Slytherin dorms for the next few months?"

Draco hated to admit it, but Potter had a point. Almost everyone he shared a dorm with was in service to Voldemort and many of the lower years belong to families aligned with the madman. He didn't much fancy trying to live alongside them for the rest of the school year; he was sure to end up with a knife in his back one way or another.

"Alright, fine. I accept your terms," Draco said, knowing that he had never really had a choice. "What do I have to do to be inducted into this Order? If it involves an ugly tattoo on my forearm you can sod off."

Potter laughed and said, "None of us go in for tattoos. You will have to take a magical oath though."

Draco nodded reluctantly and Snape said, "I suggest we put this in motion today. The longer Mr Malfoy stays here the more danger he's in."

So it was that several hours later, Draco found himself standing in the doorway of the gloomiest house he had ever seen. He knew of the Blacks from the brief snippets his mother had told him, and, of course, Sirius Black was infamous. Still, he had never visited the Black ancestral home and now he wasn't sorry for the fact.

"I know it's a dump," Potter said behind him, "but it's clean…mostly."

"And this place belongs to you now?"

"Yeah. I let them use it for headquarters. It's not really good for anything else."

"You're not planning on living here then?"

"I don't know, maybe," Potter said quietly. "There are a lot…associations. When all this is over I'll fix it up properly and sell it to the highest bidder."

Draco couldn't say he blamed him. The place was dark and depressing, and there were traces of potent magic in the very walls. It was testament to how bad things were that it was still preferable to returning to Malfoy Manor.

"The kitchen's straight down in front of you," Potter said, and Draco took that as his cue to move.

He walked down the corridor, feeling as though the walls were closing in on him. He glimpsed a small sitting room to his right, while the huge staircase dwarfed him on his left. The corridor finally opened up into a large, but no less dark, kitchen. There was a long wooden table at which an impossibly handsome was sitting.

"Oh, hey Bill," Potter said with a friendly smile. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"I just got back off assignment," 'Bill' replied, his eyes darting to Draco.

"Bill, this is Draco Malfoy. He's going to be staying here for a little while. Draco, this is Bill Weasley."

Draco tried not to let his surprise show on his face. It simply wasn't possible for anyone that good-looking to be a Weasley. Of course, the red hair should have been a give-away, but it was such a gorgeous colour – a deep copper with flecks of brown here and there. The man's skin was as pale as his own and smattered with freckles, particularly across his dramatically sharp cheekbones.

"Hello," Bill said with a smile. "Heard a lot about you from my brother."

"I'll bet," Draco replied, willing himself not to blush.

"I have to get back to Hogwarts. I'm due for a training session with Snape and he'll have my head if I'm late. I'll stop by in a couple of days with some books and things. Bill, will you keep an eye on him?"

"I'm right here," Draco protested. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Good," said Bill, "because I have no intention of being one."

"Well, you two kids have fun," Potter said with a smile before he went tramping back down the corridor, the front door opening and closing moments later.

"Well," said Bill, leaning back in his chair, "I'd hate to see the other guy." He gestured to Draco's bruises and Draco dipped his head in embarrassment.

"He got off better than I did," he mumbled, shifting awkwardly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to be an arse about it. I'm guessing if you're here that things aren't so rosy at home."

"That's one way of putting it."

"Look, why don't you take a seat and I'll make you a cup of tea."

"Thanks," Draco muttered, shifting into the nearest chair.

Bill lit the kettle on the stove and fished a mug out from one of the cupboards. Draco couldn't help but watch him. The man was tall and lithe, his movements graceful. If he had to guess, Draco would put him in his late 20s, although he had one of those strangely ageless faces.

"You're…um, you're part of this Order thing too?" he asked, feeling rather out of his depth.

"Yeah," Bill said, leaning against the counter-top with casual ease. "You're joining us?"

"I didn't have much choice," Draco replied, crossing his hands in his lap. He felt conspicuously prim next to Bill's laidback manner.

"I…um…I don't know much about you, beyond what my brother's told me, but I know that your family has been…loyal to Voldemort. For you to be here…I'm guessing you've decided that that's not the path you want to take."

"Something like that," Draco said quietly.

The kettle whistled and Bill made the tea, setting it down in front of Draco. He reached into his robes and extracted a small flask, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"No thanks," Draco said, shaking his head. "I have a few different potions knocking around my system, best not to mix them with alcohol."

"Fair enough," Bill said, sitting back down and taking a swig from the flask.

Draco sipped his tea, wishing he had asked for sugar. He could feel Bill watching him and he tried to pretend that he was unaware of the scrutiny. This was not like any Weasley he had encountered before and he had no idea how to behave.

This Weasley was confident, self-assured, dare he even say suave. This Weasley was well-dressed and the most handsome man Draco had ever clapped eyes on. It was shaking him to his very core.

"How long are you here for?" Bill asked, stretching out and crossing his legs at the ankle, giving Draco an eyeful of his long, toned body.

"Indefinitely," Draco said with a shrug. "You?"

"I'm in and out. I'm a curse breaker by trade and every now and then I can help with an assignment for Dumbledore. I'm in between living situations at the moment so Harry's said I can bunk here when I'm in England."

"You're not living with the rest of your family?" Draco asked, reminding himself not to slag off the redheaded clan in Bill's presence."

Bill grinned and said, "I love them all dearly but at 27 there's no way I could live under the same roof as my mother. For a start, I can't take the endless questions about my love life."

Draco's stomach jolted and he took a large gulp of tea. "Love life?" he echoed, aiming for casual.

"Or lack thereof usually. Mum would really like me to settle down – a spouse and a picket fence."

"She's anxious for a daughter-in-law?"

"Swap that for son-in-law and you're on the money. She keeps trying to set me up with nice, eligible bachelors."

"No winners so far?" Draco asked, feeling inexplicably delighted to learn that Bill was gay.

"Merlin, no. She keeps trying to set me up with blokes who are just like my brother, Percy. Do I strike you as the kind of man who would date an accountant?"

Draco's lip twitched slightly and he shook his head. "No, I can't say that you do."

Bill smiled and said, "Do me a favour and tell her that."

"No offence, but your mother and I don't exactly spend a lot of time together."

Bill laughed and said, "You might find that changing."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked with a frown.

"Once she hears about…you…she'll want to help. She has an uncontrollable need to mother anything with a pulse."

"I don't need mothering," Draco said, more harshly than he had intended to. "Sorry…I just meant…I can take care of myself. I don't need to be made an honourary Weasley."

"Well you have suffered enough," Bill said wryly and Draco felt the tension disappear. "Look, I didn't mean to imply that you were a charity case, just that…my mum likes taking care of people. Perhaps you could do with…someone taking care of you."

"It would be a new experience," Draco said quietly, realising that the veritaserum was still loosening his tongue. He looked down at his hands and said with a sigh, "I know what everyone thinks of me – that I'm just some spoilt little rich kid who's had everything handed to him on a plate.

"It's partly true; I have had a privileged upbringing and I've never wanted for anything. I can't say that I've ever been happy though. Fuck, I don't know why I'm telling you this, sorry."

"It's ok," Bill said gently. "Sounds like something you need to get off your chest."

"It's nothing I want to talk about," Draco said, hoping that he could skirt around the issue long enough for the truth potion to work its way out of his system.

"Well I'm not one to pry, but if you do want a friendly ear, I've been told I'm a good listener."

Draco nodded. It would be all too easy to confide in this handsome stranger who had no business being part of the Weasley clan, but that was a dangerous road to go down. He knew nothing about this man, not to mention the fact that he had never been one for spouting his feelings. He had been taught to keep those things to himself and that was a lesson he couldn't easily forget.

"I'm going to go and take a shower. You should get settled in. All the bedrooms on the second floor are usable; they've been cleared of any nasties and they're cleaner than the rest of the house. I'm in the last one on the left so take your pick from the others."

"Thanks."

Bill got up and left, leaving Draco alone in the kitchen. There was no rush to find himself a bedroom; Merlin knew that he had little enough to unpack. He had brought the bundle of clothes that Potter had found for him and the few items he had left in his dorm over the holidays.

He barely had any personal belongings left and it felt as though his whole identity had been erased. It felt stupid to still call himself a Malfoy, given that he'd basically been disowned. His whole world had changed and he wasn't sure that he would ever adjust to it.

He finished his tea and washed up his mug then traipsed up the stairs to the 2nd floor. He inspected the rooms and settled on the one that had the least musty smell. It was serviceable enough; there was a large four-poster bed, a wardrobe, a writing desk and an armchair and table beneath a large sash window. Most importantly, it was safe, and his father wouldn't find him.

It was strange to think that he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts again apart from to take his exams. He had no wish to see his fellow Slytherins and face their bile, nor did he think he could cope with the humiliation that that would bring. He had lost everything and his fellow housemates would respond to that with nothing short of glee.

Of course, he had no precedent with which to compare his present situation. He was, essentially, a fugitive, holed up in this strange place with a not-entirely unpleasant bunkmate. That certainly hadn't been mentioned when joining the Order had been mooted.

It was nice to know he wasn't going to be spending the entire time alone and, he had to admit, Bill was very easy on the eye. He never would have imagined that he would actually have positive feelings about spending time with a Weasley, but he had already decided that Bill didn't really qualify as a proper one anyway. How he was related to Ron was a complete mystery.

Draco's burgeoning sexuality was still something he was coming to terms with. It had begun creeping up on him in 6th year, and he was only just beginning to understand it. It had started when he began noticing Blaise, but he had dismissed it, as everyone noticed Blaise, it was hard not to.

It had been a little harder to ignore when he'd begun having very explicit dreams about the Ravenclaw Keeper. It was confusing, as he was still noticing girls and having the same fantasies about them he always had done. That he was bisexual hadn't even occurred to him until he had overheard a conversation about Goyle's cousin, who had rebounded from her break-up with her boyfriend by sleeping with a woman.

He had been disproportionately pleased when Bill had casually mentioned his own sexuality. He wasn't sure why; he was sure the man would have no interest in someone ten years his junior, not to mention someone from a family that was the polar opposite to his own.

Of course, he didn't belong to a family now. There was no one left to whom he had any connection, no one who he could claim kinship to. Bill had made a frightening allusion to the fact that Molly Weasley would try and take him under wing, but Draco could think of nothing worse. He had no desire to be anyone's charity case, least of all a Weasley's.

He puttered around for a bit longer, reading the one book he had managed to bring with him. He was too distracted to concentrate though and the pain was starting to settle back in now that the pain potions were wearing off. He padded back down the stairs and found that Bill had once again stationed himself in the kitchen.

"One thing muggles get right is their takeaway food," Bill said, gesturing to the boxes on the table.

"Takeaway food?" Draco echoed with a frown.

"I thought you'd had a rough enough time without being subjected to my attempts at cooking. There's a place down the road, it does excellent Chinese food. Help yourself."

"Um…thanks," Draco said, tentatively examining the boxes on the table. He had to admit that they smelt fantastic and all he had eaten in the last couple of days was watery porridge from the hospital wing.

He felt Bill eyeing him and he looked up to see the redhead grinning at him. "What?" he asked defensively.

"You've never had takeaway before, huh?" Bill asked, still grinning.

"Oh no," Draco said crossly. "My parents were addicted to it, we had it every Friday night. You know how much they liked to immerse themselves in the muggle world."

Bill's grin faded and he said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to tease…but if I could give you a little word of advice – tone down the defensiveness a bit."

Draco felt his jaw clench as he bristled at Bill's words. Apparently he wasn't done though, and the man continued, "You're going to have plenty of enemies, you don't need to create ones out of those who are here to help."

"No offence, but you don't have a clue what I'm going through."

"No, I'm sure I don't, but I'd be willing to try and understand it if you wanted to talk to me about it. Not everyone's out to get you."

"Oh sure, only about 80% of them. Do you think your crew are going to welcome me with open arms?"

"They might, if you ask them to."

Draco sighed and said, "Everything's so easy for you people. You see things in such black and white terms."

"Let me tell you something," Bill said, resting his fists on the table and leaning forward. "I've been around a little longer than you, and I've been in this fight for a while now. Things aren't black and white, nowhere near it, but you can make them more complicated than they need to be. So, for your own sake, drop the attitude, ok?"

Draco didn't know what to say to that. He had no wish to make himself vulnerable to Bill, or anyone for that matter. His defensiveness was the only weapon he had left and he had no desire to exist without it.

"Sit down and eat," Bill said firmly, apparently calling an end to the conversation. Without knowing what else to do, Draco obeyed.

AN: I've realised that I need to go back to Long Shadows and tweak a couple of things to make the timelines match up a bit better. It won't be anything drastic though, just a few changes to the dialogue in chapters 1 and 11, otherwise we'd be looking at the longest courtship ever and I just don't have it in me to write that!

If any of you are interested, give me a follow over on Tumblr - willmoanbutdonothingtochange. I don't blog a whole lot, but it's a great medium for communication and I'd love to answer any asks you might have either about my writing or me in general.