Hi all!

I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Sirius or Remus or any other awesome character in this story.

Thanks for reading. Reviews are very much appreciated!

Hermione and Draco hit if off right away. It turned out that Draco was just as interested in the history of magic as Hermione was, and though they attempted to pull Harry into the conversation, it was a lost cause. Draco had clearly found a person just as fascinated with knowledge as he was.

Hagrid warmed to Draco relatively quickly after meeting him. Draco had never had friends his own age before, but it seemed he was decent at making them. He rather liked Hermione, and Harry wasn't like any other kids he'd met. Most of the kids he knew were purebloods, raised around their prejudiced parents who insisted they never let loose, never have fun, and look down their noses at muggleborns and half-bloods. The proper pureblood life had never really suited him.

Draco had been told about the Sorting Ceremony when he was very young, nearly seven years old. After meeting Harry and Hermione, he knew immediately that Harry would most likely be sorted into Gryffindor and Hermione into Ravenclaw.

He also remembered that his father informed him that if he wasn't sorted into the right house, he would be transferred to Durmstrang. "No son of mine will be anything other than a Slytherin," he had said. He remembered the feeling of his father's cold gray eyes, like steel, boring into his.

Somewhere in the crowd, he heard someone shouting Harry's name. Draco felt a sense of déjà vu as the red-headed boy shouted, "You're Harry Potter!"

"Nice to meet you," Harry said uncomfortably, trying to get around him so he could get to the Great Hall.

"I'm Ron Weasley," the boy claimed. He appeared to notice Draco, who was standing next to Hermione, flipping through the pages of Hogwarts, a History. "What are you doing with that sort?" he asked, shooting Draco an accusing look. "You don't want to hang with a Malfoy, mate. He'll be a Slytherin, and everyone knows Slytherins are evil."

Harry raised his eyebrows, looking less than impressed. "I think I can figure out who's 'evil' for myself."

Ron look shocked as Harry walked right past him, followed by Draco and Hermione. Draco couldn't help from blurting out, "he's kind of right, you know."

Harry looked at him incredulously. "You are the least evil person I know. And trust me, I know a lot of bad people."

"No, I just mean that I'm going to be sorted into Slytherin. And you're going to be sorted into Gryffindor."

"So?"

"Well..." He tried to think of a way to explain it. "Slytherins and Gryffindors aren't supposed to be friends. They're supposed to be rivals."

"Who cares?"

Draco looked absolutely dumbfounded. Before he could even attempt to answer, a woman in a long black robe spoke from the podium.

"Good evening," she started. "My name is Professor McGonagall."

She commenced with her opening speech, and Draco completely zoned out during Dumbledore's welcome. It wasn't until McGonagall called out the first name that he snapped out of it. As each name was called, he dreaded it more. As expected, Hermione was quickly sorted into Gryffindor.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

He made his way up to the stool. When the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, he suddenly heard a voice echoing in his mind, clear as a bell.

Well, the Sorting Hat said, a Malfoy. But you're not like your father, are you? You're more suited for... Ravenclaw.

No, Draco begged. My father wants me in Slytherin. And I want to stay at Hogwarts.

You'd do well in Ravenclaw, the Sorting Hat countered, and after a beat of silence, continued. Well, if that's what you want. "Slytherin!"

There was a cry of triumph from the Slytherin table as Draco cast an apologetic glance towards Harry and Hermione. But Harry only grinned at him, shrugging; Hermione gave him a small smile and turned to her book.

And somehow, Draco knew that their friendship would survive.

All he could think was that she didn't look any different. Other than the subtle smirk on her face, she looked the same. Her hair was the same mess it had always been, her eyes the same captivating chocolate brown they'd been the day he'd first met her on the train to Hogwarts. He thought she would have changed; he thought she'd look like a different person than the girl he'd studied with in the Hogwarts library, the girl who'd lectured him about sneaking firewhiskey into the Slytherin dorm.

But maybe she'd always been like this; maybe there had always been a coldness in her eyes and a certain indifference to everything around her. Maybe he'd just been too blind to see it.

"Drop your wand," he said.

She raised her eyebrow. "Or what? You'll hex me?" She smirked, running her fingers along the wall, admiring the destruction she'd caused. "Oh, Draco, I thought we were beyond common schoolboy tricks."

"You're Voldemort's protégé. Aren't you too important to participate in a little raid?" he countered.

"My Lord would beg to differ," she drawled, a grin stretching across her face. "I never miss the chance to have a little fun."

It felt like his chest was caving in on itself. He hadn't seen her in months, and suddenly she was right in front of him. Someone else. Someone terrible and cruel and uncaring.

"Speaking of which," she continued. "You just had to try to save that little half-blood girl. What a pity," she sighed. "I'm sure the Dark Lord will be pleased to make an example of the Malfoy blood traitor."

One second she was raising her wand to curse him and the next her wand had flown out of her hand, clattering to the floor behind her. She whipped around, shocked to see Harry with his wand pointing straight at her.

"You're going to face the Wizengamot for what you did," Harry said flatly. "I don't want to have to Stupefy you."

"That would be a valid threat," she replied slowly, "if I hadn't been the one to teach you that spell in the first place."

And then she waved her hand. Her wand flew back into her grasp.

"It was lovely seeing you again, Draco," she told him, sending a soft smile in his direction, her eyes glittering with vindictive pleasure, and disappearing on the spot in a whirl of black robes.

"Well, shit," Harry said frankly. "Since when can she do wandless magic?"

"Obviously Voldemort's been teaching her a few tricks," Draco said distantly, shaking his head in an attempt to get her face out of his mind.

"The rest of the Death Eaters are gone," Harry told him. "You're lucky she didn't kill you. Why were you in here so long?"

"A little girl was hiding in here. She thinks her mum is around here somewhere."

"We have to leave. We can't stay around and risk all of our lives to find one woman..."

"I promised," he said firmly. He made his way past him and up the stairs, casting a disillusionment charm in case she was using it to hide. Unfortunately, even after checking every room, he discovered there was no one there.

Harry followed behind him, crossing his arms. "She's not here, Draco. She's bound to have gotten out."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. If the Death Eaters were gone, that meant the little girl's mum was likely safe.

"We've got to leave. More Death Eaters could come back to survey the damage any minute," Harry told him, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Draco nodded, grabbing his wand and apparating them away. He couldn't care less about the underage magic laws at this point-but, then again, he never had.

He couldn't get comment Harry had made out of his mind. Why hadn't Hermione killed him? Especially since she'd obviously become a master of wandless magic. Why hadn't she cast the curse the second she saw him?

He knew it was useless thinking about it, but he couldn't help himself. Harry would have told him to get his head out of his arse and forget about her. He would have told him that Hermione had betrayed them in the worst way possible, and was beyond saving. It didn't matter how good of a friend she was, or what he'd felt about her all those years ago.

She had chosen her side. He just had to remember that.

They decided to hold the meeting of the Order at Grimmauld Place, just in case the Death Eater attacks were getting closer to home. Remus and Sirius insisted Draco and Harry go back to Hogwarts for their own safety, but they flat-out refused. There was no way they were going to be barred from the meeting because of some silly regard for their safety. They'd already been in plenty of danger over the years; this was no different.

As usual, they decided to have the Order meeting over dinner. Sirius had no idea how to cook, so he asked Kreacher to do the cooking for them, making sure to remember the revealing spell for poisons in case Kreacher was feeling especially vindictive. The little house-elf didn't have a reputation for being particularly helpful or tolerant towards anyone other than purebloods.

Most of the members were there. Moody was sitting in the chair at the end of the table, an angry scowl plastered to his face. Kingsley was prepared to start the meeting. Fleur and Bill had just arrived a couple of hours prior, and only two weren't present: Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape. Both were preoccupied at Hogwarts, and it had been widely accepted that Snape had made his position in the war clear when he had organized a mass betrayal against Dumbledore.

"From what I could tell, there was more property damage than casualties," Kingsley began, pulling his hat off of his head.

"It was almost a production," Bill inserted. "Like it wasn't about killing, it was about making a statement."

"Voldemort doesn't make statements to prove a point. He slaughters," Harry said disagreeably.

"No, she's right," Draco argued. "Voldemort targets muggles, muggleborns, and half-bloods. He almost never organizes the mass murder of ordinary wizards in their own territory."

"Diagon Alley is supposed to be a safe place for wizards," George added.

"He did it to prove he could," Sirius said flatly. "He did it to prove he could attack them at any time, any place."

"He's only getting more and more recruits on his side," Remus added. "There were more Death Eaters there than I've ever seen before."

Silence swept across the room as that sunk in. They all knew it was entirely possible Voldemort was getting more powerful, but to see that many Death Eaters in one place had been horrifying.

"Most of the Slytherins are following their parents' examples," Draco said quietly. "They're getting the Mark as early as fifteen."

"If we don't get more numbers, we don't stand a chance," Harry said.

Fred leaned forward, deciding to include himself in the conversation. "The group you two created last year. The..." He looked to Draco for the word.

"DA," he supplied.

"Right. The DA. Is it still meeting?"

Draco and Harry looked to each other, trying to remember the last time they'd called a meeting. It was with a jolt that Draco remembered the last time they'd met was at the end of fifth year.

"It's only Christmas," Harry said. "We could reconvene after the New Year."

Draco tilted his head to the side, considering. "I suppose."

"We'll call it back to order," he said. "Hogwarts isn't any safer than it was last year, and it's not as if we're learning how to defend ourselves. If we can get more people to join..."

"Then we can get more recruits for the Order. Get some people to help us fight back," Draco finished, suddenly energized.

"It's too dangerous. You-Know-Who has spies in Hogwarts. You two could be found out," Sirius told them.

"They already know I'm a blood traitor," Draco pointed out. "And Harry has been safe so far."

"Harry has been safe because of his mother's protection. There is nothing protecting you, Draco, and you on know it," Sirius said, his eyes boring into Draco's. But the blonde refused to flinch.

"I have proven to you all that I can protect myself," Draco responded, his eyes sparking in rebellious spirit.

There was a beat of silence, only broken when Remus opened his mouth to speak. "Remember," he told them severely. "This is a war. We can't take any chances. So if you two are going to do this, you're going to do it well."

"Don't worry," Harry responded with a lopsided grin. "We'll be careful."

Draco had to smother his smirk at the obvious lie.