Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, obviously.

So – this is a new chapter. I didn't think I'd be writing anything new, but it turns out, I needed it. Why? Well, a big part of making your story more realistic is having realistic consequences. If Draco was observed threatening a school mate (which he was), then it only makes sense that a natural consequence is detention. What is really cool about following those consequences down a logical line, is that it opens up more opportunities for the characters to develop. In this case, we get a new scene with Draco and Bill where they interact one-on-one. I wanted to start deepening that connection. For Draco, it's really important for him to not feel judged, and for someone to take a genuine interest in him. There's a concept in psychology called 'resiliency', which is, basically, the ability to overcome the stressors in their life. If a child has even one safe confidante in their life, be it a parent, a relative, a teacher, etc, they are much more likely to have resiliency, which leads to more positive outcomes in their future.

And I added Ginny in there as well, because now that I know the pairing will end up Draco/Ginny, I want her to have more presence and to flesh her out a little bit more as well. I really don't like how I developed her character in the beginning, and am trying to fix that.

Because I'm writing this story in a very specific format (each chapter has a Draco POV and a Bill POV) that means Bill gets his own scene as well, which I decided to use on his first spying mission. This humanizes Bill a little more. He's scared, he's in a little over his head, but he's incredibly brave and compassionate. It also lets me spend more time on the bad guys, which actually is pretty important in a story. Having under-developed villains can make the plot stagnate and also decreases the suspense.

I did a weird thing in this story by introducing the 'debate class' concept (I mentioned before that it was born out of my own life experiences). This allowed me to externalize an internal conflict – namely, let Draco actually debate his worldview out loud, and this way we can see it change, instead of having it all in his head. (I don't do a good job of utilizing this throughout the story, and really just keep it in one chapter, but oh well). I also decided to use Bill's POV to show this world that Draco is from, where bigotry is normal and kids are raised believing that they are better than others, or that others are sub-human. I wanted to explain why Draco has such a hard time letting go of his own bigotry. He's a genius and he knows facts, but his culture is very ingrained in him. His battle is trying to separate himself from that. This gives Bill (and the reader) some more insight into Draco's world, and in turns, makes Bill better suited to reaching him. So- please enjoy the new chapter of The Code: Detention.

OoOoO

Draco slouched into the second-floor detention room after breakfast Saturday morning. Like he expected, no other students were there. No one else was stupid enough to get a Saturday detention during the first week of school. He mentally cursed Blaise and slumped into one of the chairs. He dropped his bag on the desk.

He didn't know what teacher he had the misfortune to be stuck for the morning, so he'd brought a little bit of everything with him. Some teachers liked to assign meaningless work during detentions – having students write lines or an essay on why their behavior was not appropriate. For that eventuality, Draco had brought blank parchment and extra ink. Some teachers allowed students to use the time for homework, so Draco had brought his class books with him. Some teachers allowed for free time, so he'd packed a fun read as well – a travel narrative by Higgins Farthing who trekked through the Haunted Forest of Blackwell.

Draco glanced at the clock. Whoever was on detention duty was late. Then again, they may not have expected any students. Draco pulled out his homework and started on his Transfigurations assignment. He was going to get at least some of it done.

The door opened nearly ten minutes past the hour and Bill strode in. His eyes widened.

"Bloody hell, I didn't think anyone would actually be here." The professor crossed to the front desk and put his bag down. He gave an amiable smile. "So, what'd you do to earn a detention in the first week of school? Remember, my brothers are Fred and George, so it's got to be good to impress me."

Draco narrowed his eyes. The professor must already know what he'd done. Surely he'd listened to the gossip that spread around the teachers' lounge. No doubt he was baiting Draco, waiting for him to confess to his crimes.

Draco put his quill down and met the professor's gaze. "I attacked Blaise Zabini after he signed to the Equality group in debate class."

He watched the professor's face fall, all trace of good humor gone. He blinked a couple of times, trying to formulate a suitable response. So, Bill hadn't known then.

"Well," said Bill finally, "I can see how that would earn you a detention. Might I ask what you were trying to accomplish with your attack?"

"Zabini signed up for the Equality group," Draco reiterated, slower this time.

"I heard you. I was asking why you attacked him."

Draco was flummoxed for a moment. No one else had ever asked him why he misbehaved. They simply assumed he enjoyed it. Or assumed it was a tantrum because he didn't get his way. Some assumed he was a bully and enjoyed inflicting pain.

Here was someone asking about his motives, for the first time in his life, and Draco couldn't give him the real reason. If he admitted to protecting Blaise, it'd completely ruin his reputation, not to mention it'd get back to Lucius and then he'd really be in trouble. His father would see no point in protecting a blood traitor, not even if he was a friend. Malfoys didn't have friends. They had associates and employees. Sometimes they had partners, when it was a well-suited match, but nothing that would breed loyalty outside of the family. Lucius would say he was soft, losing focus, getting sentimental. He might even pull him from Hogwarts, set him up with private tutors, and then Draco would have even less freedom.

Draco felt the beginning edge of panic creep in at his thoughts. He swallowed it down and looked back up at the professor, trying to formulate a suitable response.

"It's okay if you didn't have a reason," Bill said, filling the silence that had descended. "We all act out of emotions every now and again. Were you angry at Blaise? Or feeling hurt?"

Draco snorted, he couldn't help it. 'Act out of emotions', as if a Malfoy would ever be so plebian. He sat back in his chair. "Blaise chose the wrong group."

"I don't follow."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I disagreed with his choice of group."

"And you attack everyone you disagree with?"

"Obviously not."

"So why did you attack him?"

"Why does it matter?"

Bill perched on the teacher's desk. "You're here, in detention, and the purpose of detention is correction. I can't help you correct something I don't understand, so I'm asking about your goal to the attack. What did you want in that moment?"

It must be Bill's sincerity that was throwing Draco off his game. He didn't usually struggle to come up with lies. But then again, the other professors had already formed their negative assumptions. It made lying easy because he could say anything to re-enforce that belief.

"There are consequences to choosing the wrong side. I was reminding him of that."

"You were punishing him," Bill surmised.

"Sure. Let's go with that."

"Why do you think you have the right to punish him?"

Draco shrugged. "If I hadn't, someone else would have."

"Did you want to attack him?"

"'Want' is the wrong word."

"What's the right word then?"

Draco paused, trying to think of the way Nott or Warrington would describe their reasons to the attack. "It was my duty, perhaps?" He frowned a little. Nott might think it was his duty to put Blaise in his place, but Warrington would probably say it was his right, his privilege.

"You sound unsure of yourself."

Draco waved away the professor's words. "Only in semantics. Not in belief."

"So the Equality group is the wrong group and you were exercising your duty to remind him of that."

"Exactly."

"What makes you think the Equality group is the wrong group?"

Draco blinked at the professor. Surely he wasn't going to try and debate with him about Pureblood Superiority? Everyone knew it was pointless. Malfoys prided themselves on their superiority. They were smarter, richer, more attractive and more powerful than every other wizarding family. And their explanation for their superiority was rooted in Pureblood heritage.

And Draco didn't want to have a debate. Not really. Not when he was already conflicted and frustrated and so very alone. So he hardened his gaze. "My father says it is."

Draco didn't need to be a genius to see how Bill reacted at the mention of Lucius Malfoy. Bill's mouth twisted. His hands tightened for a second on the desk, not in aggression, but like he was bracing himself.

Again, Bill took a few moments to formulate a response. Draco prepared himself for a lecture, or an insult, or outright dismissal. But the professor merely worked through his emotions, whatever they were, and came out of it all with a small nod.

"Family's important." And then he changed the subject. "You bring any of your Ancient Runes stuff with you? I could start helping you with the Cretan dialect."

Draco was taken aback. He was too startled for his own response, so he only nodded and pulled out his books. Bill moved over to sit beside him, which was another surprise, and Draco spent the next hour re-learning a dialect with a surprisingly adept and friendly teacher. He already knew the information, but he was engaged despite himself, mainly because Bill also talked about his travel through the sea caves of Crete and the ancient burial sites. He was almost disappointed when Bill called the lesson to a halt and let him move on to his other homework. Bill went back to the teacher's desk and started on his own work, lesson planning by the look of it.

Draco spent another hour on homework, and the last hour reading for fun. Bill dismissed him a few minutes early. He was in the middle of re-packing his bag when Ginny Weasley barged into the room and strode up to the desk.

"What did Ron say?" she demanded, flipping her long hair over her shoulders.

Draco paused. He wasn't much of a fan of family drama – he had enough of it at his own home – but he was fascinated at this conflict. He'd never really believed the Weasley family was capable of arguments. They had a temper, to be sure, but they'd always seemed too loving and saccharine for anything more than a little spat. But the look on Ginny Weasley's face was ferocious.

Bill winced. "Ron was concerned about you dating Liam. He wrote home and mum wrote me. I told her I didn't want to be involved."

"Mum said that you were going to be keeping an eye on me."

Bill let out a heavy sigh. "Well, of course I'm keeping an eye on you. You're my little sister. But I also told mum that I'm not going to parent you."

"You should tell her to back off."

"I'm not telling her that."

"She's gone crazy, Bill. It's not as if we're even going out. We hung out at the library, that was it."

"She's not crazy; she's concerned."

"Why? I'm allowed to date. It's not as if I'm having sex!"

Draco's eyebrows shot up. He wondered if this was his cue to leave. He didn't really care to hear about the Weasleys' sex life.

"They're concerned about you, Gin," Bill placated. "Your first year was-," he broke off and looked Draco's way, like he just noticed his presence. Ginny turned as well and saw him, still sitting at the desk.

She glared. "You mind, Malfoy? It's a private conversation."

There weren't many students who glared at Draco. In fact, apart from the Golden Trio, the littlest Weasley was in rare company.

He scoffed. "It's a public location." But he still gathered up his bag and made a show of exiting the room, letting the door shut behind him. He threw up a listening charm to overhear the rest of the conversation. It was far more interesting than the homework he had.

"Mum and dad are concerned about you," Bill re-iterated. "They know your time here hasn't been easy, especially considering your first year."

Ginny made an angry noise. Draco belatedly remembered that her first year at Hogwarts had been relatively traumatic. She'd been kidnapped and taken to the Chamber of Secrets. Potter had rescued her from a basilisk. Draco had never been able to piece all of that escapade together, much to his frustration, and Dumbledore had been frustratingly silent. An over-simplified explanation had been given to the students and parents. Any questions or concerns had been swept away with the wave of his hand.

"Ron's been through a lot," Ginny returned. "Why aren't they worried about him?"

"If he started dating his entire class, they would be."

"It's not my entire class!"

"I know, I know. Just… you must see where they're coming from, right?"

Ginny sighed. "Can't you talk to mum and dad? Get them off my back? They listen to you."

"This is for you to figure out. I'm not going to play mediator for my family."

Draco could hear Ginny's theatrical groan and Bill's corresponding chuckle.

"You know that once they make up their minds it's nearly impossible to change them."

"But not completely impossible."

"Fine," Ginny said.

Draco heard the quickstep of her footfalls toward the door and let the charm drop. He didn't bother running away though. He didn't have any moral qualms about spying.

Ginny pushed open the door and rolled her eyes when she saw him. "Have fun eavesdropping then?"

"Quite" Draco agreed. "I wasn't aware that Weasleys fought. Aren't you too noble and good-hearted? Too busy rescuing orphans off the street that you can't afford to feed?"

Her mouth tightened. "Sure, sounds familiar. And your family holds annual escape drills to practice fleeing Azkaban, isn't that right?"

Her words stung more than Draco was expecting. He was more impressed than offended though. She turned on her heel and stalked off. Draco turned the other way, heading for the Slytherin dungeons. He'd had enough of Weasleys for the day.

OoOoO

Bill had just sat down for the evening with a cup of tea when fire flashed through his arm. He jerked in surprised, the tea sloshing over the side of the cup before he could set it down. He gripped his arm to keep from crying out in pain. The Dark Lord was calling.

He moved quickly, waving his wand to clear the spilled tea and bolting for his room. His heart pounded. His chest felt tight. He'd only just had the mark activated. He thought he'd have more time to prepare than this.

He grabbed the invisibility cloak and pulled it around him. He reached for the potions next, one to incase him in a bubble of silence, one to mask his smell, and another to render him invisible to detection spells. His hands shook a little as he pulled the corks off and drank them. Merlin, he wasn't ready for this. He double-checked he'd taken the right potions, made sure the cloak was wrapped tight about him, and then left the room.

Still the fire in his arm burned, and he only had a small piece of Severus' mark. He didn't want to know what it would feel like if he had the full thing. He hoped that by sharing the mark, Severus' own pain was reduced.

He quickened his pace when he reached the outer passages of Hogwarts, breaking into a run, and then he exited out of the castle and ran into the woods. Severus was waiting for him in a clearing, marking his arrival by the movement of stirred leaves and branches.

"When winter comes, we'll need a floating potion, to keep you from leaving tracks in the snow," Severus said.

"Good idea."

"Do you see the meeting point?"

Bill closed his eyes for a moment. This was a testing point. Could Bill get the psychic impression of the meeting point through the link? A vague image formed in his mind. An old, large farmhouse. An open field around it. A quiet night.

"Yes, I see it."

"Then we'll be on our way. Remember, this is just a trial run. Get used to moving in the cloak. Don't come to close to anyone. Keep yourself safe over everything."

Bill nodded, even though the Potions Master couldn't see him. Severus raised his wand and Apparated. Bill followed suit.

He could tell, by the Apparation, that he'd just travelled a long distance – longer than he'd ever gone before. Empty space and magic pressed around him, crackling against his skin and compressing his body, before spitting him back out. He stumbled when he landed, something he hadn't done since his first year of Apparating, but managed to keep his feet.

He'd landed in the short cut lawn of the house. It was dark here, but he could see and hear people Apparating about him. They wore their long dark robes and hideous hoods. Bill immediately looked for Severus, but the spy was already making his way towards the house, not looking over his shoulder, not pausing and waiting, acting as if he was completely alone.

Bill hurried to get off the lawn, not wanting to jostle anyone and blow his cover so quickly. He had the urge to hide behind something physical – a tree, a bush, the patio furniture – anything that had more substance than the thin cloak around him. He pushed the fear back. They couldn't see him. He was safe.

The front doors of the house were propped open, allowing for an easy access inside. Bill stepped into the foyer, tucking himself into a corner, out of the direct line of traffic, and paused to look around him. He was struck at how bright and warm the house was. He had always associated Voldemort with darkness and shadows and dungeons. Not clean, well-maintained houses with family portraits hanging on the walls. Not with the chatter of party drifting in from the kitchen and dining rooms.

He heard a great deal of French, another reason why Bill had been chosen as a spy. Voldemort had started gathering forces outside of England, allowing him to gather his followers away from the growing suspicions of the English Ministry of Magic. Bill spoke fluent French, allowing him to listen in without use of a translating spell. From what he could make out of the conversation now, people were greeting each other, asking about family and work. It was uncomfortably mundane. Bill looked at the portrait on the wall, depicting a family of five, a father, mother, and three children. The gold plate on the bottom of the frame carried the last name. The Boucher's.

There was a giggle and a patter of feet on the stairs above the entryway. Bill tipped his head up and saw two young faces staring down. A boy and a girl. Too young for school, but not by much. Maybe nine and ten. He watched them whisper to each other as more Death Eaters entered. One of them spotted the kids and pulled off his hood to glare at them. They scampered off, most likely back to bed.

Bill felt a twist in his stomach. Kids. At a Death Eater meeting. Or rather, a Death Eater meeting at a family home. His home had always been a place of safety and security, not a gathering place for terrorists. What a terrible environment for children to be raised in.

There was a break in flow of Death Eaters entering, so Bill took the opportunity to walk further into the house. The Death Eaters had removed their hoods and were milling about, conversing with one another. Plates of appetizers had been spent out. He carefully drifted further into the kitchen where he recognized Mrs. Boucher from the portrait, a little older and a little more frazzled. She was currently cooking and plating other dishes. A few other women, their hoods pushed back, were helping her. They were treating the meeting like a dinner party, and yet their guests were the most dangerous witches and wizards in England. Bill recognized several faces. Lucius Malfoy. Bellatrix Lestrange. Dieter Warrington. The elder Theodore Nott. Walden Macnair. The Carrow siblings.

Bill kept close to the walls. He was tempted to creep closer to the gathered Death Eaters. He wanted to know what was being discussed, but Dumbledore and Severus had both impressed on him not to take any undue chances. He was still new to espionage. Better to start slowly, allow himself time to adapt and learn. There was no point in attempting any daring feats right now. It would only lead to a quicker exposure. Besides, Bill was learning quite a bit just by observing the Death Eaters in the room. He was learning names and faces. He was learning meeting places.

Bill found the best spot to observe the Death Eaters, a small alcove beside the liquor cabinet. There was a high-topped table in the alcove, holding an urn and a photograph. He ducked to sit under the table, keeping him out of the way and giving him a clear view of the room. It also allowed him to overhear bits and pieces of conversations as the Death Eaters poured themselves a drink. He heard a great deal of gossip, learned a couple new names, and some investment tips that were probably illegal.

He held his breath as Lucius Malfoy approached, Nott Senior dogging his steps. Nott looked animated, almost angry, as he spoke. Malfoy's face was blank and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"- taking the given opportunity to stand for our beliefs," Nott said. "While your son is silent. No, worse than silent, he is complicit in the drivel that is being spouted by that fool Dumbledore and the weak-willed press."

Lucius Malfoy reached for the decanter of whiskey, his expression not changing. Bill had just spent the morning with his son, teaching him the Cretan dialect and telling stories about cracking runes deep in the ancient sea tunnel crypts. Draco had the same blank face as his father, but as they'd worked together, Bill had seen the cold mask fade into one of interest. Lucius kept his mask on, although a faint bit of irritation furrowed his brow. The resemblance between father and son was striking. The same brow and nose, the same eyes, the same hair, although Lucius wore his longer, falling down to his shoulders.

He turned to Nott. "Whiskey, Theo?" His voice was cool, casual almost, like he wasn't even listening to the other Death Eater.

"Did you hear a word I said?" Nott demanded. "Your son declared for the Neutral Party at Hogwarts."

It was a surprise to Bill. After all, Draco had openly admitted to attacking a classmate for choosing the Equality Party and spent detention with him. If Draco cared so much about blood superiority, why had he chosen the Neutral Party? Was he actually questioning his beliefs or was he trying to spy on the other groups?

"A double, then," Lucius murmured, pouring a generous helping of whiskey into a crystal glass and handing it over.

Nott took it, all but spluttering. Lucius poured himself his own, only a single serving. He spoke as he poured. "This is hardly the time to confer on such trifling matters. Our lord has greater things to discuss tonight."

"That's all you have to say? No silver-tongued defense of your precious heir? No outright dismissal of a truth you well know?"

"And what truth is that?"

"You're too soft on him. You ought to rein him in, bring him into the fold. He hasn't even met the Dark Lord yet, while my son has. He's even participated in our revels."

Bill didn't know Theodore Jr. He wasn't taking any Runes classes, but he felt a moment of pity for the boy. He wasn't even an adult yet, and he was being brought to dark revels and being encouraged to join in? Bill knew what happened at those events. Muggles were tortured, sometimes killed. The Death Eaters proved their fervor to the Dark Lord by blood-letting or other ritual acts of masochism.

"Yes, and how many students has your son told about his summer activities? At least three, from what I heard. And what happens, do you suppose, when that word gets out to Dumbledore? I am thinking of more than my family's pride. I am thinking of our lord's protection and secrecy."

"That's a weak excuse, and you know it. If my son had pledged to the Neutral Party, I'd march over to Hogwarts and hex him until he remembered his place."

"Interesting," Lucius mused. "I've never had to torture my child so that he'd listen to me. But I suppose if your son is that unruly…," he trailed off and shrugged a shoulder.

Nott's lips pulled back, baring his teeth. "You think you're so clever, don't you, Lucius? One of these days-," and then he broke off because a sudden silence had fallen over the room.

Bill had been so caught up in the conflict directly in front of him that he hadn't noticed Voldemort's arrival, but here the Dark Lord stood, just in the doorway. His robes were black as night, his pale skin scaly, appearing almost damp in the candlelight. His nose was flattened, with slits for nostrils. His eyes were sunken into deep sockets. They gleamed a disturbing shade of a red.

Bill felt his breath catch. His heart, which had finally begun to slow as he adjusted to the invisibility cloak, missed a beat and then skyrocketed into a drumroll. He could feel the rush of blood in his ears.

"What's this?" Voldemort asked, his voice catching and hissing out the 's's' of his words. If a snake could talk, Bill was sure it would sound like this. "An argument between two of my most loyal followers?"

Voldemort stepped further into the room. Bill watched as the other Death Eaters drew back, bowing deeply before their lord. Voldemort hardly seemed to notice their presence; his red eyes were locked on Lucius and Theodore. "And what is so important that it has led to this unseemly conflict?"

"Nothing worth mentioning, milord," Nott said quickly, even as Malfoy gestured to Nott and said, "I will let my colleague explain, as it is his concern."

Nott paused. Malfoy smirked.

"Please, Theo, if it is of such trouble to you, surely our lord should also be aware."

With such an invitation, Nott couldn't remain silent. He bobbed his head before Voldemort. "We were discussing our children. Some are most ardent in their expression of their devotion to you, like my son. However, others have refused the chance to publicly support you, such as Lucius' boy."

Voldemort's head tipped and his eyes went to Lucius.

"Dumbledore has started a school debate club," Lucius said, with the slightest hints of exasperation in his voice. He shrugged, the silk robes he wore fluttering with the movement. "It appears the Headmaster wants the children to discuss politics, and will, no doubt, include his form of propaganda in the curriculum."

It was artful, the way Lucius had broached the topic. He showed his irritation, but nothing more, nothing that would lend the debate any credence. He made the issue small, trivial. It was clear, by the flush on Nott's face, that he realized how insignificant it sounded, especially in front of Voldemort.

Lucius waved the topic away as if it were a pesky fly. "But we have far more important issues to discuss, particularly in regards to Hogwarts. Perhaps we should retire to a more private setting and discuss that item you need retrieved?"

Voldemort nodded to Lucius, conceding his point. Bill watched as he and the Death Eaters that made up his inner circle left the room.

Bill tried to find a way to join them, because it sounded as if Lucius was implying that there was an item in Hogwarts that the Dark Lord wanted to retrieve, and that was sure to be a vital piece of information. But he couldn't quite make it over to them. There were too many Death Eaters in the way. So Bill forced himself to remain put. He'd gathered a great deal of information already and he shouldn't try his luck.

He settled back and contented himself with gleaning more information from the snippets of conversation he overheard.

But what could Voldemort possibly need from Hogwarts?

OoOoO

New chapter! What do you think? As always, I am cross-posting on Ao3 where you can read the second draft without the notes or first draft chapters.