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.

Draco went downstairs and handed the letters to Granger. "Post these while you're out." Then he turned tail and walked back upstairs before she could reply. He had enchanted the letters so only their intended recipients could read them. But still, he wished he hadn't had to leave them with Granger. No owls were allowed in or out of Grimmauld Place, however, and who knew when he would have another chance. He certainly wasn't leaving the letters with another Order member, not that he had seen any. There hadn't been an Order meeting in the week Draco had been there. People only came over for Order meetings for the same reason there weren't any owls. Too much traffic entering and exiting Grimmauld Place could attract attention.

When he woke, Draco could tell the Golden Trio had left on their quest or whatever the hell they were doing. He supposed it had something to do with the subject of the whispered conversations that ceased whenever he entered the room. Draco wasn't vain enough to think they were about him. Well, okay, he was, but he wasn't stupid enough. Draco stretched and got out of bed. He walked over to the door, grabbing his robe from the chair and stopping in front of the mirror. Potter had lent him some robes, being nearer to Draco's size than the gargantuan Weasley. Draco had refused to touch them at first, but soon realized he couldn't keep wearing the same robe for the rest of the war.

He had transfigured the robes in something wearable. Not being a seamstress, the best Draco could manage were simple black robes, similar to the Hogwarts ones, but without the house accents. Draco shrugged on the robe looked at himself in the mirror. His blond hair lay immaculate as always, his fringe falling down in front of his left eye. He hadn't cut his hair in ages, and it was down to his chin. His skin was pale, paler than usual, from months of being locked inside Malfoy Manor. Pansy had always said his eyes were his best feature, but Draco didn't agree. They stared back at him, grey and lifeless. Still, he made a pretty picture.

Draco walked down to the kitchen and had Kreacher prepare him a snack. After eating it, he stared at the wall for fifteen minutes.

Sweet Merlin, he was reduced to staring at the wall he was so bored. He decided to go explore the house. The Gryffindors were rubbing off on him.

He started with the front hall. Hearing Granger's story of the house-elf heads had almost made him ashamed to be related to them. It was so crass. When Malfoy house-elves died, they were cremated. But then he remembered Granger's indignant speech about house-elf rights, inhumane practices and spew, whatever that meant, and he smiled.

Draco was curious about the covered paintings blanketing the other wall. He had been warned not to uncover them, but Potter had left it at that. He stopped in front of the largest painting. It was probably life sized. There was a sticking charm holding the curtains closed, but a wave of Draco's wand took care of that. The second the painting was uncovered the screaming began.

"FILTH, BLOODTRAITORS, HALFBLOODS PROFANING THE HALLS OF MY FATHERS!" Draco started, and tried to pull the curtains back closed. But the woman in the portrait lowered her voice.

"You don't look like the rest of the filth. You look like darling Narcissa." Only long hours with his father of learning to control his emotions stopped Draco's jaw from dropping. He recognized his Great Aunt Black from the Malfoy Family tree. His manners caught up with him.

"Indeed, ma'am, I am Narcissa's son. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Your father was a pureblood, I hope," Mrs. Black sniffed.

"Of course, ma'am. He was Lu—is Lucius Malfoy."

"Ah, Lucius, a very respectable young man." Somehow Draco sensed telling her he had been disowned would not go over well.

"Did you say this is the house of your fathers?" Draco asked.

"Of course my boy, this is the Black Ancestral home. I'm not surprised the scum who live him haven't told you. They have no proper Pureblood pride. You must come to visit me often. It is so good to see a proper Pureblood again. And one who is half Black. For too long has this house been filled with halfbloods and mudbloods. I trust you will work to bring the House of Black into order once again." Draco bowed.

"I will do my best, ma'am. It's been a pleasure to meet you."

"And you, my boy." She actually simpered at him. Draco closed the curtains and put a stronger sticking charm on the curtains than had been there before. That certainly explained why all the paintings were covered. Mrs. Black was quite the eyesore. She was thin as a skeleton, and her skin was pasty. Her hair hung in dark brown clumps, unkempt. Her eyes were the worst. They bulged out of their sockets, and the veins were clearly visible. The drool only added to the aura of madness. Having no wish to encounter any more of his mad, dead relatives, Draco started exploring the rest of the house.

On the third floor, Draco encountered a door that wouldn't open. It wasn't Granger's usual locking charm, which he could undo. Although, he hadn't expected Granger to know a locking spell of that caliber. Gryffindors were supposed to be all about sharing, not keeping people out. Or maybe that was Hufflepuffs. The two started to blend together after awhile.

The room was heavily warded, but Draco thought he recognized the wards. His curiosity was piqued. What could possibly need to be warded by blood wards? Draco studied the wards for a few more minutes. He recognized the first ward. It was the first one his father had taught him. It ensured that only someone who had a certain type of blood (Pureblood, Malfoy, or in this case Black) could enter the room. The second ward was giving him a little more trouble. He knew he had seen it before. Then it hit him. It was an age line. It ensured only someone of age could cross. Well, Draco fit both categories, so why wasn't the door opening? Draco reached and tried to turn the handle again. Nothing happened.

"Open up for Merlin's sake!" he shouted. Suddenly, the handle changed shape under his palm. The handle was made of bronze, with intricate designs etched on it. Now it seemed to split in half, leaving a gaping hole in the middle. He tried turning it once again, and nothing happened. Except the handle bit him, Draco howled and pulled back his hand, bring it to his mouth. The door seemed satisfied, however, and swung open. Draco stepped inside, thinking, "this had better be worth it."

It was, it most certainly was. Draco had found the Black Family Library.

A/N: I'm looking for a beta, so if anyone is interested, let me know.