Summary: In the third year of the war, Draco is discovered as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Snape brings him to Grimmauld Place for safety. But months of being locked in a house with Potter take their toll, and soon both boys are in over their heads.
Pairing: Harry/Draco. If you don't like it, don't read it.
Warnings: Unbetaed, all mistakes are my own. Sexual content. Language.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything affiliated with his world belong to J.K. Rowling.
Later that night Draco lay in bed in the bedroom Granger had shown him to. He thought about everything he had left unsaid. "I couldn't do it, you were right. I'm a coward. I wasn't strong enough to kill anybody." As punishment the Dark Lord had killed his mother. His father had told Draco he was unfit to bear the family name and hadn't spoken to him since. Frankly, Draco wasn't fussed. The fewer madmen talking to him the better. At least he wasn't disowned, and he was still a Malfoy. He would never have escaped otherwise.
Down in kitchen, he had gone on to explain the situation with Avery to all three Gryffindors. Avery had been suspicious about Draco's loyalty for a long time. Draco had gone down to the Manor's dungeons to sneak food to the prisoners. Somehow Avery had managed to follow Draco and caught him passing the food through the bars of Hestia Jones's cell. Draco was a superb duelist, years of practice with his father, Snape and even Potter had toned his skills. Avery was a mediocre wizard at best. Overpowering him was simple. What happened next was the problem. Killing him would have been the smart thing. The Dark Lord would think him killed in a raid. However, Draco was incapable of casting the killing curse. He had simply cast the most powerful memory charm possible and sent Avery on his way. Draco had been weak, and look where it got him.
He had not told the Gryffindorks that, of course. He told them that the Dark Lord would have been suspicious at Avery's disappearance, and that it just wasn't prudent to kill him.
After the story, the Gryffindors looked slightly more inclined to trust him, but not much.
"Look, I'm telling the truth, you must believe me," he'd said. Granger nodded and said she did. But the other two didn't look convinced.
"What are we going to do with him?" asked Weasel.
"What do you mean, what are we going to do, Ron?" questioned Hermione
"Well, I'm not sure I feel comfortable letting a Death Eater live in the same house as me, even a Death Eater spy." Explained Weasel.
Potter suggested an Unbreakable Vow, binding Draco the their cause. Granger and Weasley had stared openly at that. Potter, though, had been giving Draco a look that was far too calculating, far too Slytherin, for comfort and hadn't noticed.
Granger was the Bonder. Draco had knelt on the floor, right hand clasped in Potter's. Potter's skin was surprisingly warm. Potter's hands were also bigger than Draco's, which irked Draco to no end. Granger had placed the tip of her wand on their joined hand.
"Will you, Draco Malfoy, never reveal the location of this house or anything revealed to you here unless you have the permission of one of us three?"
"I will." The first red flame wrapped itself around their fists. Draco's voice was steady, but so was Potter's. Draco kept his eyes on their entwined fingers, not looking Potter in the face. This was Draco's first Unbreakable Vow. He could feel the magic running through his palm, from Potter's skin to his. The sensation was disconcerting, but not unpleasant.
"Will you, Draco Malfoy, reveal to the Order any information about Death Eaters that you know?"
"I will." The second red flame was longer than the first.
"Will you…" Potter looked at Granger, as if unsure what to say. She mouthed something to him. "And will you help the Order fight against Voldermort?" Granger sighed. There was the slightest hesitancy in Potter's voice. As if he didn't think Draco would accept. Draco's head snapped up, eyes locking on Potter's. They were mocking, and offered a challenge. And even though it kept coming back to haunt him, Draco could never back down from a challenge offered by Potter.
"I will." The third flame burst forth, casting a red glare around the kitchen. It wrapped itself around their hands, just as the first two had. When it was gone, Draco could still feel the glow of the magic. And judging from the way Potter kept shaking his hand, as if to get out the tingling, he could too.
When Draco ventured downstairs the next morning, he heard sounds of a struggle coming from the dining room. He ran to the doorway, wand drawn. He stopped short at the sight that met his eyes. Potter and Weasley were engaged in a violent struggle with velvet moth eaten curtains. The curtains were attempting to strangle the boys. Men rather. Potter and Weasley were almost twenty, as was Draco himself, but he still viewed the two as the childish boys of his schooldays.
He entered the kitchen to find Granger pouring over a long piece of parchment. When she heard him come in, she rolled up the parchment and stowed it in her robes. Draco wasn't insulted, much.
"Why are Potter and Weasl—ey engaged in a battle with drapery?" Considering they were going to be living under the same roof for the foreseeable future, Draco figured it'd be better to try and be polite. And if he insulted one of the Golden Trio, he insulted all three. Living with three people mad at him was not Draco's idea of fun. Draco's idea of fun actually involved France and his family's chateau, with Potter hundreds of miles away, but he digressed.
"They're trying to make this house habitable. After Mrs. Black died, it got infested with all sorts of dark things. Whenever they have free time, Ron and Harry try to clean up some more and get rid of all the dark and dangerous stuff."
"Lest we all die a horrible death by curtains."
"Indeed." Granger tried to stay stiff, but Draco heard the humor lacing her voice. Granger might be Muggleborn, but she was far superior company to his other housemates.
Draco settled down and looked expectantly around for a house-elf. "I say, who serves the food around here?"
"You do."
"I beg your pardon," Surely Draco had heard wrong.
"We have a house-elf, but he is a bit, well he's completely crazy. He doesn't do any housework. He keeps going on and on about old Mrs. Black." Granger sounded fondly amused.
"What's his name?" inquired Draco.
"Kreacher, why?'
"Kreacher!" Draco all but shrieked. There was a pop and the ugliest house-elf Draco had ever seen was standing in front of him. He was bent over, and dressed in a disgusting loincloth. There were tufts of white hair protruding from his prodigious ears. Draco wrinkled his nose. "Elf, serve me breakfast." The elf's eyes widened as he took in Draco.
"Oh, how proud Mistress would be to see a proper pureblood in her house once again. The Malfoy boy, from the looks of it. Kreacher would be happy to serve you breakfast, Master." Looking very happy, he immediately set about cooking. Draco returned to the table and noticed that Potter and Weasley had entered the kitchen and were staring at him, with their mouths open. Draco sensed a pattern emerging.
"Bloody aristocrat," muttered the Weasel as he made his way over to the table. Reminding himself of his inner promise to be polite (at least out loud), Draco bit his tongue. Potter was staring at Draco with less derision than wonder in his eyes. He looked amazed that Kreacher was actually listening to someone. Stupid git, he'd probably tried to be kind to the elf and gotten nowhere. You have to firm with these creatures.
As Kreacher served Draco his breakfast, Draco noticed a change come over Granger. When she with Potter and Weasley, she changed. She became decidedly less friendly, and the three of them (Potter, Granger, and Weasel) retreated into their own private sphere. Draco had been working with Granger for several years, and they had learned to tolerate each other, even appreciate each other's company at rare times. But not when Potter and Weasel were in the room.
Draco ate quickly and had Kreacher wash his dishes. Then he fled. Only he called it a graceful exit, because Malfoys never fled, they exited gracefully. He had no desire to be in the same room as Potter and Weasel, and Granger, if she was with them. He would stay in his room.
And die of boredom. Draco spent the next few days studiously avoiding Potter and the Weasel. Whenever he was forced to be in the same room as them, Weasel glared at him and Potter, well, was Potter. He would stare at Draco whenever he thought Draco wasn't looking. But it wasn't an angry stare, more like a puzzled stare. And whenever Draco caught him staring, Potter would go for his wand. Draco was happier out of their company.
Draco had slept more in the past week than in the past year. But there was only so much sleep he could get. He had also wanked more than in the past year. The Death Eaters had had a less than encouraging effect on his libido, and it seemed determined to make up for lost time. Draco thanked Merlin for lube, because his prick would have been completely raw otherwise.
Granger had given him a few books to read, but he was finished with them in no time. The one relief from the monotony was Thursday when Granger returned from her meeting with Snape. It was the first news of the outside world Draco had heard.
Apparently the Death Eaters were marshaling for a grand scale attack. However, the Dark Lord didn't reveal the location. On a happier note, the Dark Lord was taking out his anger at Draco on Lucius. Draco was conflicted about this. Sure, Lucius was a heartless murdering bastard who deserved what he got. But he was still Draco's father. After a night of tossing and turning, Draco decided to remain true to the Slytherin he was and be glad that someone else was being tortured and not him.
Draco came down to breakfast late, because Potter and Weasley ate breakfast early. He shuddered at the mere thought. Draco was not a morning person. Granger was still in the kitchen, and nodded good morning. After a slightly awkward fifteen minutes in which Draco picked at the oatmeal and Granger studied her piece of parchment furiously, she spoke.
"We're going out today, we have something to do. Er- we being Harry, Ron, and I." She didn't look up from her parchment as she spoke. Draco wasn't sure whether to be relieved that he wasn't included in what promised to be a 'grand Gryffindor adventure', or upset that he would be left alone.
He responded the way he always did. "Oh, by all means. Go on one of your little adventures, while I remain here, bored to tears and going out of my mind. Fabulous." Draco threw up his arms as he talked, gesticulating wildly. Granger merely raised her eyebrows at him.
Oh, that was just not fair. Raising eyebrows was his thing, and now it was sullied by a Gryffindor. Fan-bloody-tastic. Draco hated his life sometimes. He wanted to rant and scream and curse someone (preferably Potter) and do something other than sleep or reread Moste Potente Potions. (Draco was slightly curious as to why a Gryffindor had that particular book in her possession.) And now the bloody Golden Trio was leaving him all alone.
If there was one thing he hated, it was being left alone. Well, Draco hated lots of things. Potter, poverty, manual labor and power-obsessed madman and Potter were at the top of his list, but he really did not like being alone. At the Manor growing up, he had been surrounded by house-elves, and it was almost physically impossible to be alone at Hogwarts. Even when the Dark Lord turned Malfoy Manor into his evil headquarters, there was always some other Death Eater in the Manor.
Fear was so plebeian, and very below a Malfoy. But telling himself that didn't stop the knots in his stomach from forming. When Draco was very little, he had gone on a trip to Greece with his parents. Something had happened at the Ministry that required Lucius's immediate attention. In all the fuss, Draco had been left behind at their Greek mansion. There was no one else there; even the house-elves had gone back to Britain. Draco had been left alone in the huge mansion for over twelve hours before his parents came back for him. It had been the worst twelve hours of his life. From that moment on, he had surrounded himself with people. He hated silence and loneliness. His worst nightmare was that he would be the only person left on earth. Everyone else was gone. If was a common nightmare of his, and he woke up sweating and screaming from it at least once a month.
At least that house-elf would be here. Draco sat down at his desk and quickly penned two letters, one to Crabbe and the other to Pansy. Both their families had fled Britain and the war, to escape the Dark Lord. The rest of Draco's former classmates could be found at Malfoy Manor, with Dark Marks on their arms. Draco wasn't sure of Pansy's or Crabbe's exact locations. The three of them corresponded very infrequently, and he missed them.