"If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their doubting too,"

Friday 25th July, 1997.

Draco remained in the kitchen for the rest day, as no one would show him any of the other rooms. He felt as though he were some form of attraction from the circus or the zoo; Order members came and went, stopping by the kitchen to gape at the attempted-murderer. He treated them with a scowl or a sneer, all except Professor McGonagall whom he had always had some unfathomable fondness for – she had been, albeit secretly, one of his favourite professors. Molly Weasley stayed in the kitchen all day too, watching him nervously as though he would pull out his wand and attack her. It irritated him, the fact that they were all so frightened. He was incapable of murdering anyone; he probably couldn't even finish off Potter if he wanted to. His newfound conscience wouldn't allow it.

At lunch time, Granger shuffled into the kitchen with a pile of books and a sheepish expression on her face. She sat across from him at the kitchen table and opened the first tome, diving directly into it without any greeting to either of them. Molly placed a mug of tea in front of her and didn't offer Draco one; he supposed that was her way of showing how much she disliked him. He didn't care, mind, he had never been a fan of tea.

"How much longer am I expected to stay in this room?" He asked arrogantly. "Could I see the garden? Or perhaps sit on a comfier seat…"

Hermione looked up from the book unsmilingly, as Molly Weasley glared at him from her seemingly permanent position at the stove.

"You are, as Harry put it, a 'flight risk'. We have to keep you here until the Veritaserum is procured."

"Am I any less of a 'flight risk' in the lounge? Or the study?"

"Yes. Remus said we should keep you here, where I can keep an eye on you."

"You? I would rather Potter watched me all day."

"That can be arranged. He's very interested in what you have to say for yourself." She replied coldly. "Funnily enough, he has an issue with the boy who tried to kill Albus Dumbledore."

"I was unsuccessful though. So, technically speaking, I haven't done anything wrong."

"Haven't done anything wrong? I always knew you were self-obsessed but to believe that everything you did was right? You nearly killed Katie, not to mention Ron, and you brought Death Eaters into the school! Bill was bit by Fenrir Greyback because of you!"

Draco shuddered at the mention of the werewolf – he had plagued his nightmares for almost a year. It was during the holidays last year that they had first met; his father had brought him to the manor. The man was neither human nor beast, but an eerie combination of both. Greyback had threatened Draco covertly for the rest of the year, sending him letters that spoke of how much he would enjoy the taste of his flesh. Draco had tried telling his father, but Lucius Malfoy had simply tossed back his blonde hair and laughed. Once, he even told him that it was a fate a coward like Draco deserved. Needless to say, Draco did not like to speak of him.

"I never asked him to come. He did it of his own accord." Draco spat.

"He shouldn't have had the choice; it needn't have happened in the first place."

"You don't know what it's like!" Draco cried, suddenly leaping to his feet. "Being forced by your parents, having no choice…" His fight drained away from him when he noticed both Molly and Hermione looking at him in surprise. As he sat down in his chair, Molly hurried over and placed a steaming mug in front of him. He looked at it before pushing it away. He didn't need their pity.

Draco wasn't certain when he fell asleep, but a loud bang startled him from his slumber. He was instantly on his feet, wand clutched tightly as his hand shook furiously. He started slightly when a warm hand made contact with his arm, and he looked to see Granger next to him.

"It's only Harry." She whispered, before sighing thoughtfully. "Although, if his temper recently is anything to go by, you may need it." Draco looked at her questioningly, before lowering it a little. The door to the kitchen flung open and Potter stood there, glowering at him fiercely.

"So it's true." He stated. "You've come crawling here for help. I thought you were many things, Malfoy, but never a snivelling turncoat." Hermione walked over to her friend and wrapped her arms around him, but he did not respond. His green eyes were fixed doggedly on Draco.

"How are you?" She asked quietly.

"I was alright before I heard about this git." Remus Lupin appeared in the doorway with Mad-Eye Moody behind him. Harry spun round and threw a vial to him, saying "here, the Veritaserum."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "How did you get that?"

"Stole it on the last day of school. I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't have minded, especially not as we're using it on this worthless bastard."

In a flash, Draco found himself bound to the chair and his mouth forced open. Other Order members began flowing into the kitchen, some cursing at him and others simply sneering. Remus charged forwards and forced the whole vial down his throat, before turning to Mad-Eye Moody.

"I'll take over from here, Remus." He pushed forwards and stood by Draco. "Are you really Draco Malfoy? Son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, born on the 5th June, 1980?"

"Yes, that is who I am." Draco replied drowsily. The sensation of being under Veritaserum was amazing, he felt more relaxed than he had in months. His mind seemed empty of any lies or falsehoods, and he could only recall those things that were actually truth.

"You are not under another magic? No potions or curses?" He answered in the negative. "Very well. On which date did you receive the Dark Mark?"

"Tuesday, 27th August, 1996."

"Who was gathered at this event?"

"Lord Voldemort, my father, my mother, Aunt Bellatrix, Uncle Rodolphus, Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, Fenrir Greyback and several other Death Eaters."

"Why did you choose to take the Dark Mark?"

"A number of reasons. I believed that mudbloods were inferior, and that Lord Voldemort would bring glory to pureblood wizards and witches. My father also played a part; he said he would kill me if I did not join." The Order members exchanged anxious looks.

"How did you feel when ordered to kill Albus Dumbledore?" Draco thought for a moment, before sighing.

"At first I was thrilled; an occasion to prove oneself to the Dark Lord is a rarity. But afterwards…I knew I couldn't do it, I knew that I didn't want to do it."

"Why couldn't you do it?"

"I'm not a killer. I'm not a killer….I'm not a killer!" Hermione stepped forwards, staring at Mad-Eye.

"Stop it now; you have enough to go on…He's obviously in pain…"

"No we don't have enough, and I don't care how much pain he is in." Harry spat. "I have one last question for him. Have you seen Professor Severus Snape?"

"Yes. Professor Snape has kept me safe, he has cared for me. He sent me here; he doesn't want me to die."

"So the bastard is alive?" Harry looked around darkly, avoiding Hermione who stood anxiously in the corner. She knew what his reply would be, after all, she knew Harry. His voice was dark with emotion and power when he spoke.

"For now…"

The interrogation was over as Harry tipped the antidote down his throat. Draco lurched forward suddenly and was sick over the table, his chest rising and falling heavily. Hermione winced and cleared up the vomit as others filed out of the room; she ignored Harry's disapproving stare and fetched him a glass of water.

"Stop it, Hermione. He may be staying with us, but there's no need to wait on him."

"He's ill, Harry!" She snapped. "I'm going to take him upstairs and then we need to have a serious conversation." Draco stood up shakily, and followed Hermione as she blazed out of the room. The sound of her Doc Martens on the old wooden stairs resounded through the house, causing Draco to wince as his head throbbed. From somewhere below there came a screeching, followed by hurried footsteps and murmured voices. It sounded like some sort of battle was going on in the hallway, and Draco looked at Hermione questioningly when she turned with a look of disgust.

"That is Mrs Walburga Black, your great aunt if I'm not mistaken."

"She still lives here?" Draco muttered. "I thought she'd died years ago."

"She did. But her rather stubborn portrait lives on, and causes as much chaos as she possibly can." Hermione let out a sigh. "I guess my stamping feet didn't really help."

When they arrived at his room, Draco walked straight over and sat on his bed, resting his head in his hands. Hermione hovered in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms folded. He glared at her, and she sighed.

"I have a word of advice for you, Malfoy." She said quietly.

"Well I don't want to hear it. Be so kind as to leave." His voice was dripping with insincerity, which only seemed to encourage her more.

"Harry is…Harry can be volatile whenever Dumbledore is mentioned. It would be prudent, for the sake of yourself and everyone else, if you didn't mention him at all." Draco blinked at her.

"Why is he so bothered about the old man? As far as I'm aware, he was only the headmaster of the school and leader of the Order of the Phoenix. It's not like he cared for Potter particularly, besides the excessive giving of house points." Hermione stared at him blankly.

"You're wrong – Harry meant a lot to Dumbledore, and vice versa. I'm sure you can understand the closeness between Harry and his mentor – you have a similar relationship with Snape." Draco's pallid face remained blank, but he felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach.

"I don't…I don't know what you're talking about. Snape was just a teacher, nothing else." Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Something else you might like to consider, Malfoy, I'm far more observant than Ron or Harry. I'm not going to say anything more, but you might like to think about it."


Author's Note: Just a thank you to everyone who read the last chapter, and those that reviewed it. :D