A/N: Yay! Having fun with this one. I'm on break from college so I'm gonna keep churning these chapters out. Hope you like it!
It was awful.
Granger was the only one that treated him with a modicum of respect. Even Weasley's sister would mutter things under her breath whenever Draco entered a room, clutching onto Potter's arm as though letting go might send her hurtling into deep space.
"What was that?" Draco asked, smearing some cream cheese on his bagel. "I thought I heard something, uh…what's your name?"
She glared at him. "It's Ginny."
"Oh, okay. See, I never knew what your name was at school because it just didn't seem like important information. You were always just the runty little Weasley sister. And then after that you were…" He laughed and gestured at her stance next to Harry. "Well, then you were just Harry Potter's tramp girlfriend!"
"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy."
It was their bald, Muggle-loving dad. That was really turning out to be the worst thing about this living situation. There were crammed in this lousy, smelly house like sardines. If it had just been him and the Golden Trio, it would've at least been tolerable. But no, you had to have the mother who was always being too kind just to spite him, and the father who always liked to slander the good name of Lucius Malfoy.
"Yes, sir?" Draco smirked.
"I would appreciate it if you didn't call my daughter a tramp in my own house, thank you very much." Arthur looked back down at his eggs, poking at them until the yolk bled over. "Although, with the filthy mouth your father has, I can't say I'm surprised…"
"I'll give you a filthy mouth," he muttered, dropping his head and spreading the last of the cream cheese on his toast.
"What was that?" asked Ginny.
"I said bite me."
Things had gotten a lot better since his first days in the Burrow, tied to the chair. The Weasley's mum was the one who put a stop to that, saying it was 'inhumane' and that 'the poor boy didn't have much choice, now did he?'
"Ooh, I don't need your pity, woman," he said to her as she started uncoiling the rope around him.
"I'd appreciate it if you called me Molly," she said, patting him on his shoulder. Oh, she was just doing it to piss him off. Just looking at her smile sometimes made him want to punch a wall. She thought she was getting one over on him-well, he'd show her!
"You know, Malfoy," one of the twins said. Draco of course didn't give a damn which one it was—it hardly mattered. "If you don't like the way us Weasleys run things around here, you're always welcome to leave."
"Maybe take a stroll around town? Go to the Ministry or something like that?" the other one said.
"Oh, cram it."
And they both laughed, like that was so funny.
Since Weasley's tramp sister was sharing a bed with Potter now (her idiot parents thought she was sharing with Granger), he got to sleep in her old room. What a stupid room that was. She had quidditch posters all over the place of the most godawful teams. The Chudley Cannons? Really? She had a thing for the Weird Sisters, too. That was so typical. What teenage girl didn't have a poster of the Weird Sisters in their room? And she probably thought she was so special. Ugh.
Draco spent most of his time in there, though, because there weren't many other options. Potter, Weasley, and Granger liked to have little huddle meetings throughout the day that he wasn't invited to. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to be included, but he hated the superior way they'd lower their voices and glance over their shoulders when he entered a room.
"Oh, carry on, I'm sure what you're saying is so important."
"Actually it is," said Potter. "We're trying to overthrow the Dark Lord."
Draco scoffed. "Yeah, good luck with that."
"At least we're trying to do something," said Granger in that bossy tone of hers. "Instead of just lazing about all day being a burden to everybody."
"Please! The only difference between you and me is that my ego isn't the size of…" he paused, looking for the right comparison. "Well…your hair!"
"Oh, so it's an ego thing?" she asked, squinting. "Well then maybe we should consult you." She turned back to her friends. "What d'you think, guys? I don't know anybody with a bigger ego."
"Oh please. He's pathetic," said Ron. "I think Dobby could beat him in a fistfight."
"I think I could beat you in a fistfight, Weasley."
"Really? Care to find out?"
"Oh, stop it," said Granger. "This is so stupid. All he wants is attention and we're giving it to him. The best thing we could do is ignore him."
"But I want to punch him so bad!" moaned Weasley.
"He's not worth it." Potter said. He bowed his head to look at a stack of papers on the coffee table between them all. A few moments of silence passed before he glanced up again. "Can I help you, Malfoy?"
Draco gave them all a pair of middle fingers and marched back up the stairs again. What a shit situation this was turning out to be. He doubted the dungeons at the Manor would be much worse than this. If only he hadn't gotten hit with that stupefy curse at the Ministry! He'd been asking around since he got here trying to figure out who the culprit was, but no one would fess up.
"I wish it'd been me," Weasley had told him. "But sadly it wasn't."
A few hours later, someone was knocking on the door.
"What?" he asked.
Granger stuck her head into the room. "Mind if I come in?"
"Yeah. Why would I want you in here?" He was lying on the bed with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. "You'll stink up the whole joint."
"Oh! Well in that case, never mind. Enjoy your solitude!" She was closing the door.
"Hey, hey! I was joking!" He sat up.
Granger reappeared.
"What? What do you want to tell me?"
She bit on her lower lip. "Uh…can I come in?"
"Yeah. Whatever."
She closed the door behind her and scanned the room for a place to sit. "Uh…"
"Sit on the bed, I don't care."
She did, her legs hanging off the edge. Granger looked extremely uncomfortable, fidgeting with her fingers on her lap. She was still biting her bottom lip too, probably tearing it to shreds with her buckteeth, Draco thought (although he also knew she hadn't really had buckteeth for years now).
"What? Spit it out, Granger."
"Okay." She let out a long breath. "I guess I'm asking you for help."
"Hmm." He just nodded.
"I'm asking if there's anything you might know about Voldemort—"
Draco winced.
"—that could be helpful to us."
"Okay." He placed his hand on his chin and squinted as though this all considered very serious thought. "Now let me ask this, and don't jump down my throat. Why should I help you?"
"Are you kidding me?" She snorted. "I don't know, maybe because we didn't kill you and took you in and feed you and Fred even loaned you some clothes and—"
"Wait." He stopped her with a raised index finger. "I didn't wear those clothes. I'm not wearing anything that touched Weasley skin."
"I know. We can smell it. You've been wearing that same shirt and pants since you got here."
"Well, I have certain standards you know, and they can't just be, you know…" He started gesturing wildly.
"Okay. Whatever. So are you saying you won't help us?"
"Now I didn't say that. By all means, if I said that, tell me, but I really don't think you can quote me on that."
Granger just stared at him, shaking your head. "Merlin. When did you became such a colossal troll?"
Draco sniggered. "I'm bored. And it's fun to annoy you."
"Well be serious for a second, okay?" She looked down and drummed her fingers on her knees. "Ron and Harry would kill me if they knew about this. Tell me…" She looked up. "Do you know what a horcrux is?"
Draco met her eyes, and suddenly all the humor was gone. "I'm not supposed to. But I might've overheard things, yes."
"What do you know?"
"Listen…" He swallowed the lump in his throat. "If You-Know-Who finds out that I helped you, I'm dead. No, worse than dead. It would be a mercy to be dead compared to the things he would do to me."
"I'm aware of that." Granger cocked her head to the side. For whatever reason, she'd tied her bushy hair into a side ponytail. It fell on her bare shoulder. She was wearing a tee shirt too big for her and some pajama bottoms. Draco thought she looked much cuter than she had any right to. It was confusing and he didn't like that.
"But you want me to take that risk to help you?"
"I want you to take that risk to help your parents."
Draco laughed under his breath. "You're gonna have to explain yourself with that one, Granger."
"Okay." She lowered her gaze. "You keep asking who hit you with that curse at the Ministry. Well, I saw who it was."
His eyes widened. "Who?"
"It was your father."
Draco wanted to laugh, but instead he could only gawk at her. What a strange thing to say! "What?"
"Malfoy, believe me. I saw your father hit you with that curse. I saw your mother point at you, and then he hit you with that curse."
"But why would they do that? Assuming I believe you."
Granger shook her head. "Can't you see? Because now you're here with us. They knew we'd protect you and keep you hidden. Your parents were trying to save you."
Finally, he managed a laugh. It sounded terrible, though. "Um…why wouldn't they just let me fight? I was doing okay! Until that last curse, nobody could touch me! I was hexing people left and right!"
"Yeah. With Bat Bogey hexes."
His face reddened.
"How long do you think you would've been allowed to get away with that? You know, I've heard a few stories about how Voldemort runs things. At a certain point, probably soon after you returned from the Ministry, he would've forced you to kill."
And Draco knew that was true. He'd seen it too many times—Death Eaters who'd shown mercy on the battlefield. The Dark Lord would bring someone in, some captured Hogwarts professor or some Muggle he found wandering around late at night. He made Theodore Knott torture someone until they went mad, just as an initiation exercise ("Now kill him," the Dark Lord said when he'd grown bored). Draco shuddered at the memory.
"Could you have done that, Malfoy? Could you have killed?"
He glowered at her. "I've already told you I can't."
"Alright then. So doesn't it make sense for your father to do that?" She tilted her head to one side, exposing the long line of her neck. Draco was once again mad at her for having skin that looked so nice.
"I guess."
"And I'm fairly sure I'm the only one that saw him to do. But can you imagine what might happen if Voldemort found out?"
"He'd torture them, and then he'd kill them."
They sat in silence for a few moments as Draco thought things over.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
Granger shrugged. "I guess you can't know. But I'm not lying. The sooner we can defeat Voldemort, the better chance your parents have of surviving. So." She leaned forward a bit. "What do you know about horcruxes?"
"Well," he shrugged.
Draco thought of his parents. It made sense, everything Granger said. That was one of the most infuriating things about her, actually-why did she always have to be right? It was a well-known fact among the Dark Lord's followers that the Malfoys weren't liked. Every day Draco woke up at the Manor, he wondered if this would be the day the Dark Lord grew bored of them. He'd already taken a fancy to throwing the occasional curse at Lucius, just to see him writhe around a bit. His mother would stand back, horrified, waiting for it to be over.
"Don't think this hurts you more than this hurts me," the Dark Lord would coo. "It's so painful when your children disappoint you, isn't it, Narcissa?"
And she would hug Draco close to her.
"I can't imagine you're very proud of your son or your husband. They're quite embarrassing, aren't they?"
Bellatrix would cackle at that. "I told her she should've married better! You don't just throw away the Black name so easily!"
Draco thought of his parents now. Were they even still alive? Granger was right—what if someone spotted his father throw that curse at him? The Dark Lord would punish him gravely for that. Probably his mother, too.
"Malfoy?" Granger asked quietly.
His head snapped up. "Sorry, I…"
"Yes?"
"I was just about to tell you that I know where a horcrux is."