Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And my sister stole my bright yellow headphones, so I don't have those either.

A million thanks to my reviewers. I actually finally figured out how to use that cool reply to review button, I just don't know where all your peoples replies went.

A billion thanks to my beta, Ada Achlys. I can't do this without you, you're the best.

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Chapter 4

Rule #3: Know thy enemy. Know him well.

Draco followed the rest of the sixth and seventh year students into the Transfiguration classroom Wednesday evening. He sat in the back, the rest of the Slytherins filling in around him, and looked up as McGonagall stood at the front of the room and raised her hands for silence.

"Thank you," she said, "and welcome to your first Debate Class. To start with we will be discussing current issues such as the proposed Pureblood/Muggleborn marriage laws and gradually work up to the war between Lord Voldemort and his supporters and those who oppose him."

There were gasps at the name, and the students looked around uneasily. Draco merely raised an eyebrow; they obviously wanted to start out slow.

"This is how it will work," said McGonagall loudly, calling the students' attention back to her. "As the main issue is whether or not Purebloods are better than other wizards, you will be divided into groups: those who believe that pureblood reign is justified, and those of you who don't. The groups will meet in separate locations and will prepare every Wednesday for a debate that will be held the Wednesday before Christmas break and another one sometime in the spring season. After break we will start discussing the Death Eaters and the war, for now concentrate on the proposed marriage laws.

"If you are neutral or undecided, you will have the ability to move from room to room, but will not be allowed to participate in the major debates unless you make up your minds before then. There are sign-up sheets on the front board and you are allowed to change sides should you so desire. When you sign up, be sure to take the parchment of instructions that apply to your group and then you are dismissed. That is all."

She stepped away and immediately the Golden Trio rushed to put their names down on the Against Pureblood Reign sheet. His Slytherins looked to him and he gestured for them to go ahead. Draco leaned back in his seat to watch. He noted who put down what, who seemed to be agonizing the most over it, and who was confident. To his surprise, Blaise Zabini walked calmly over to the Against side and put his name down to the shock of the Golden Trio and the watching Gryffindors. When Nott, in outrage, screamed "Traitor!" at him and tired to hex him, Zabini deflected it and Nott was given detention.

Potter was still staring at Blaise in suspicion and the rest of the Gryffindors were as well. Draco knew why they were suspicious; it would be just like a Slytherin to join for information purposes. However, Draco knew that Blaise was acting not out of orders to spy but his own beliefs. He also knew that if Blaise wanted to survive sixth year without being hexed into oblivion, he would need help getting on the trio's good side, and into their protection. He affixed a cold, enraged look on his face, stood, and approached Blaise.

Blaise's eyes grew wide as Draco came closer. The two had a tentative friendship, and Blaise obviously thought that Draco was going to hex him. Draco took Blaise by the upper arm and pulled him roughly to the far wall of the class so that he could keep an eye on the teachers, who looked as if they were about to break them up any minute now.

"Act scared, Zabini!" he ordered, glancing at Potter, who was staring at the two.

"Look, I'm sorry Draco," Blaise said quickly. "But I'm not changing my mind. Lord Voldemort is wrong, his ideals are wrong and his methods are as well. I believe that all people are equal. Muggle, Muggle born and Pureblood, and if this means that we can't be friends anymore than so be it, but I'm not switching sides." He said it in one big rush, not even pausing to take a breath.

"You memorized that didn't you?" Draco asked, his eyebrow rising in amusement.

"Yeah," Blaise admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. "But I'm still not changing my mind," he added quickly.

"I'm not asking you too," said Draco. He suddenly smacked the wall with his open palm inches from Blaise's head. Blaise jumped, the Golden Trio stared, and McGonagall started making her way through the crowd of kids towards them.

"What are you doing?" asked Blaise, fear creeping into the edges of his voice.

Draco pulled Blaise closer and whispered in his ear. "I'm making sure the sodding Gryffindors accept you," he hissed. "Right now they think you are a spy, and if they think that, there is no way they will protect you when the rest of Slytherin stabs you in the back."

Blaise gulped. "What-?" he whispered, trying to pull away. Draco didn't let him.

"Did you honestly think that you could join without feeling the repercussions?" Draco whispered harshly, one eye on McGonagall's approach. "Right now you are seen as a traitor to your house and to your ancestors. If Potter and his lackeys don't accept you, you won't last this year because no one will protect you. So look scared, and when Potter asks, I was threatening your well-being. He has to realize that this is not some way for me to spy on him; he has to realize that you came of your own bloody morals. So look terrified."

Blaise stared at him, trying to work through the fact that Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune, rumored Death Eater, Slytherin sex icon and ice prince, was actually helping to protect him.

Draco hit the wall again, this time punching it with his fist. He turned to Blaise, his face twisted into a snarl of rage and Blaise jumped again, this time the fear apparent in his eyes.

"Go!" he snapped. Blaise whirled around, nearly running into McGonagall as she came up.

"Is there a problem here, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, detaining him so that Blaise could escape.

He composed himself in a second flat, the snarl simply dropping off his face and his stormy eyes returning to frozen ice, but he didn't answer right away. He watched as Blaise hurried away from him, glancing back, more in confusion that fear, but the effect of terror was there. Potter immediately confronted him.

"Mr. Malfoy!" said McGonagall sharply. He had to admit that she was intimidating, but he watched until Potter smiled broadly, extended his hand, and shook Blaise's in a friendship Draco himself had been denied. Of course, Draco was a spoiled prat so it was probably a good thing Potter had refused it.

"Mr. Malfoy," said McGonagall, exasperation making her voice even more frightening, "is there a-,"

"No," he said smoothly. "No problem at all." He nodded to her and then regained his seat, watching as Blaise was met with handshakes and back-slaps all around with a sharp twinge of jealousy and loneliness.

Ironic, he thought. He could withstand being alone in his house (which was the size of a castle) for weeks on end without being lonely, but here in a room full of people, one fourth of whom fawned over him, and he felt that cold, hollow feeling he despised.

He couldn't help but notice that once the bloody do-gooders had determined that Blaise was not a threat, they began chatting as if they were old friends, their laughter and excited jabber reflecting a companionship that Draco would never have. Even without his prejudiced background and his social status that kept fickle friends close, he was still a genius, and that set him apart just like everything else. If he were to be honest with himself, he would realize that he would give almost anything to have friends like the Golden Trio, but he was a Slytherin, and Slytherins were rarely honest, even to themselves.

He mentally kicked himself for being so introspective and hardened his gaze, just in case anyone was watching. He leaned back in his chair, watching the students slowly filter out. He then turned his attention to the curvy figure of their student teacher, a first for his time at Hogwarts. She was in her early twenties, with her hair twisted back professionally and with modest robes on. She walked to the board once everyone had gone, preparing to pick up the sign up sheets.

"I haven't added my name yet," said Draco coolly.

"Oh," she said, stepping down. "I'm sorry."

There was silence; she broke it.

"Do you need more time?" she asked. "I can come back in the morning, if-."

"No,' said Draco. "I think I've got it."

He stood up slowly and studied the boards again, or at least, pretended to. He was actually studying the student professor, Ms. Claire Jameson. There was something about her that unnerved him, something he couldn't place, something he wasn't noticing. He may be paranoid, but look at her. If you put her in a different set of robes, added darker make-up and some fine jewelry, she would be down right stunning. She had perfect features and a figure most women would kill for and there was no way a stunning woman would degrade herself to just being pretty, unless she had an ulterior motive.

He walked to the board very deliberately and picked up the feather quill. He dipped it in ink and, in his perfect calligraphy, signed his name.

"The neutral side," said Claire Jameson. "I'm surprised."

Draco immediately recognized that voice; it was the way his mother talked to him. Narcissa had an edge to her voice, one developed from practicing the art of seduction, and even when she tried to talk normally, it still held that faint suggestive tone, which was extremely unnerving, especially seeing as it was his mother talking to him like that.

With Claire, he had almost missed it, but he was observant, and as he was familiar with the tone, he could identify it for what it was. She had drawn out the 'ise' in 'surprised', lending the work that seductive feeling. She was prying, prying and trying to sound natural.

He could put two and two together, but he also knew that in some cases simple addition wasn't enough. For now he could conclude that Claire wasn't as innocent as she appeared to be, and he could assume that she was used to seducing people for information. Her voice was stained with the inflections of a temptress, and it wasn't from just getting into the pants of one man. She was appointed this position by the Ministry and the Ministry held many Death Eaters. He could safely assume that she had been sent by them to spy.

Rule number four: "Know thy enemy," he said, laying down the quill and giving her a wink. "Know him well."

If she had known what he was capable of, she would have known it was a warning for her to watch out for him. He walked out, his name written at the very end of the neutral list, not noticing the red-haired professor in the darkest corner of the room. He wasn't supposed to.

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Bill had watched Draco Malfoy pull the Zabini boy aside, had watched Draco punch the wall and yell at Blaise, but he had seen something else. There was a moment when Draco had been staring at the group of Gryffindors that included Harry, Ron, Hermione and Blaise, and something in those grey eyes had changed. It was slight, but the storm-grey eyes had softened, or cleared or something because there was a glint of liquid mercury, and then the grey clouds had descended and turned into ice.

Bill was intrigued by Malfoy; he couldn't help it. He was a code all his own, complex, intricate, and Bill was a translator. Don't get him wrong, he liked his brother and his family and all, but they were so simple, so straightforward. It was part of the reason he was in a serious relationship with his girlfriend Fleur. She seemed like any other shallow French girl, but there was strength inside of her, a fire all her own. She had, after all, competed in the Triwizard Tournament, a fact most people forgot.

He had been slightly disappointed when Draco had told Claire he was joining the neutral side to 'know his enemy'. He had hoped it was because Draco was really trying to puzzle through things himself, but then again, Draco did grow up in a Death Eater family, so it was doubtful his mind would change.

Bill waited until Draco was gone and then left himself to go up to his room, but McGonagall found him in the hall.

"The Headmaster wishes to see you, Bill," she said. "He's in his office." She gave him a meaningful look, one that meant that this was serious, and Bill immediately knew why he was needed.

"Thank you, Professor," he said, giving her a nod and changing directions.

"It's Minerva!" the teacher called after him.

Bill hid a smile; it just felt so weird calling her that. He made his way to the Headmaster's office and spoke the password to the gargoyle. This month it was Ton-Tongue Toffee, props to his twin brothers. He ascended the stair case and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" he heard, and opened the door.

The Headmaster was sitting behind his desk, stroking his beard thoughtfully and Severus Snape sat in one of the overstuffed chintz armchairs in front of the desk looking ill-kempt and out of place.

"Have a seat Bill," said Dumbledore. "And would you like a lemon drop?"

"No, thank you," said Bill, sitting next to the Order's spy. "I take it that we are not here to discuss a new curriculum?"

Dumbledore gave a slight smile. "Unfortunately not. Severus has a grave report to bring." He turned to the Potions Master.

Snape shifted slightly, his piercing gaze lighting on Bill. "The Dark Lord knows there is a spy among his followers, and recently he has turned his attentions to me."

While Bill couldn't say he was fond of his old Potions Professor, he still held a great amount of respect for the man. He doubted he would return at Voldemort's call for he knew full well what his followers were subjected to.

"We planned for this," said Bill calmly. "That's why I'm here."

"I thought we would have more time than this," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his light blue eyes losing their twinkle. "Bill, what you are about to do-,"

"I've practiced," said Bill. "We may never have this chance again."

It was true. Early that summer, Voldemort had become paranoid of spies and started sweeping through his ranks, sometimes killing first, and then asking the questions. Because the Ministry had appointed the DADA professor, and also the student teacher, it was apparent that it would be all too easy for a Death Eater to slip in unawares and not only spy on Dumbledore and Harry, but also Severus.

Dumbledore had devised a way to transfer part of Severus' mark onto Bill's arm. It was invisible, but Bill could feel the sharp fire when Voldemort called, and had spent the summer practicing Apparating with Severus, so that now he could appear right next to the spy wherever the Dark Lord called them. With an invisibility cloak, and a few potions to render him invisible to the senses of Nagini, the Order had a new spy, and Severus would not be seen contacting Dumbledore at any odd hours, or even coming into contact with McGonagall. Bill would then relay the message to another Order member working in the school, and that operative would then inform the rest of the Order. It was rather roundabout, but necessary.

"There is another thing," said Severus. "You were right, Headmaster. Tom did split his soul into seven parts. If he wishes to return to his full strength, then he must search them out."

"Horcruxes?" asked Bill, surprised, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

"It gets worse," said Severus. "There's one hidden somewhere in the school."

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Duh-duh-dun! Alright, for all of those who want to know, Bill will find out about Draco's secret in approximately 3 more chapters! Woot.