Heeeeey all. How's spring break going? I'm in Georgia hanging out with the Alligators...So If I randomly stop uploading, it's because I've been eaten.

I swear I was going to update sooner, I felt so motivated yesterday. I got up, went on a run, and came back all like "Yeah, I'm gonna upload another chapter today!" and then spent the whole day on the couch of the hotel room in Savannah watching and rewatching YouTube videos... I can say that my grades are suffering because of it, but deep down, I don't really care. Take that, crabby english teacher! *childishly sticking out tongue*

Anyway, yet another chapter, yet another part of the journey that we take together...I feel so very sentimental. Okay, moment's gone, back to the story.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter Series.

Mr. Weasley was not the happiest of people at the moment.

He was currently in one of the upper right-sided wings of Grimmauld Place, once again the hiding spot for the Order, and was cleansing (or to use a more proper term, dumping buckets of icy water) on the blonde head of a certain unfavorable and recently splinched young Malfoy.

Having heard from Lavender Brown not moments before he was about to set off for the Burrow that a few Muggles had wandered upon a seemingly dead Draco Malfoy and had panicked, he had been obliged to go forth and do as any good order member would do; detain the enemy. But when he realized the critical condition that Malfoy was in (not that he cared much for the stuck-up prat, after all, he was Voldemort's right-hand-man) he knew that he would not be filling in the job of an interrogator, but one of a nurse. And never having had much time to prepare for his new nursing-a-death-eater job, he was less than enthralled about it.

Grabbing another bucket from under the running tap, he waited until it was ¾ of the way full of icy water and then poured it over the blond head. Most of the blood had been washed away the first three times, but Mr. Weasley figured why not make it an even four. Or odd five. Or even six. But by the seventh dunking, Arthur Weasley's feeling of amusement had dissipated, and he began to worry if the drunkard would even wake up, or if he was dead.

The wound on his chest had been healed relatively quickly by Luna, and he showed no more outward signs of damage other than some bruising and cuts on his hands.

Shrugging, Arthur poured the water over the blonde once more. Eighth time's a charm.

Indeed it was, because no sooner had the latest installment of freezing water been poured upon him, Draco Malfoy awoke from his inebriated stupor, spluttering for air and rambling on something about a vase. Mr. Weasley had the foresight to tie his hands to the back of the chair while he was still unconscious and had disarmed him before, giving his wand to the wandless Parvati. So when Draco's gaze changed from confused to murderous, Arthur was relatively unconcerned.

"Your wand's been taken away, you've splinched after drinking yourself into a vegetative state, and you're currently not in the optimum position to do anything about your predicament, so I wouldn't even try." Draco didn't look surprised, he was almost bored. He stared evenly at the elder man, his icy eyes revealing nothing and a disdaining sneer ever present on his face.

"So, you've managed to catch yourself a drunk Death Eater, who couldn't even run away. You must feel very accomplished indeed. Must be a big break for you, Weasley. I guess you've always been good-for-nothing, but now maybe the Order will consider keeping you." He drawled, relaxing in the chair, and presenting the picture of a young man on vacation, where, if he could, he would have his hands behind his head and his legs crossed.

Mr. Weasley' s face changed to a shade of red and he pointed his wand at the boy who stared at the wand in front of him. "Adstringo." A gag tied itself roughly around Malfoy's face, cutting into his skin slightly and preventing him from speaking.

Though Malfoy could no longer speak, his eyes remained fiery and full of hatred towards the older Weasley. Mr. Weasley spoke loudly and clearly, to ensure that his message was received. "Just because I work for the Order, doesn't mean that I will not hurt you. You bastards killed my son, and I haven't forgotten all that you did before that. Dumbledore may have believed your little façade of goodness, but he's not here, and we all know who you truly are." He stopped, keeping himself in check lest he do anything other than shout. "Someone will be up to see you shortly." He growled.

With that, he quickly strode out of the room, without looking back, slamming the door behind him. He stomped down the stairs into the kitchen area where a few Order members were talking in-between bites of a late supper. He poured himself a cup of tea, whilst everyone looked at him, waiting for information. Drinking it in one large gulp and wincing at the burning sensation it caused in his throat, he turned to face the others, nodded, and walked back out the way he had come; and once at the door, stepped outside and apparated back to the Burrow without another word.

Harry POV

With every step he took, Harry's stomach dropped lower and lower until he felt he was about to throw up. He was walking down the long and foreboding hallway to the prison-like room where his life-long enemy, Draco Malfoy, was being held; in charge of interrogating him, and whatever else he would like to do.

Kingsley had told him that he was in charge of interrogation, because Malfoy would be most likely to talk to him. But Harry figured that the Auror just didn't want to deal with it himself, and recognized that if Harry was sent in there, he would be susceptible to Malfoy's taunts and get mad, most likely injuring Malfoy and placing him in a more vulnerable position for further questioning. Not to mention that Kingsley was already pissed at Harry for questioning his authority and wanted him out of his hair.

The previous day, Harry had walked in on Kingsley talking Jacob through the layout of the Ministry; the dungeon, the minister's office, the Floo hallway, and showing him pictures of people he should know; the minister, Pius, his aunt, Bellatrix, and various other Death Eaters.

"What's going on?" Harry had asked.

Kingsley had given him a look, saying, "Going over Jacob's mission, you never know when he could be sent in." Harry opened his mouth, about to interject his opinion, but one look of Kingsley made him hesitate.

"Were you going to say something? What were you going to say?" Jacob had noticed the silent exchange between the two men, and cut in, his voice beginning to sound a bit more scared. Kingsley sighed.

"Nothing, he wasn't going to say anything."

Harry grit his teeth."I was going to say that I wanted to talk to you, Kingsley, alone, but not now."

He turned heel and walked out of the room.

A few minutes later, Kingsley walked out, past Harry, and into the nearest open room. Lavender and Parvati were gossiping over the Daily Prophet and George Weasley was in the corner, a book in his hands, but staring out the window.

"Everybody, out." Kingsley said in a firm tone, directing his gaze at the two girls who rolled their eyes and flounced out of the room and into the kitchen.

George gave Kingsley a blank look but didn't move. Kingsley cleared his throat, and George, as if he almost didn't see Kingsley there before, blinked, and recognition passed through his face. He lifted up his left hand and gave Kingsley the finger, going back to staring out the window.

Before Kingsley could react however, Angelina swept into the room, brushed past Kingsley and went straight to George's side. She gently lifted the book out of his hands, and put her hand on his arm, applying enough pressure for him to notice and pay attention. "Come on, George. Let's go get a cup of tea, Merlin knows that you've needed it these past days. I don't think that you've moved from that spot for the past three hours. Come on, I can't do this by myself."

She helped him stand from the chair and supported him as he slowly walked across the room, glaring pointedly at Kingsley as she went. They followed Lavender and Parvati and moments later you could hear the sound of water being poured into a kettle and cups being made.

After shutting the door behind them, Kingsley gestured with a sarcastic flourish towards the armchair that George had vacated. Harry stalked past, ignoring him, towards a straight backed one facing the empty fireplace. Kingsley sighed and pulled up another chair, so that he was across from Harry.

"Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Harry drew a breath and tried to find the words that would least-irritate Kingsley the most.

"Idon'tthinkthatJacobisthebestfort hisjob."

Kinglsey blinked. "Sorry?"

Harry tried again, slowing down his words. "I don't think that Jacob is the best for this job."

"What do you mean? You chose him yourself; if I don't recall, you called him 'perfect for this sort of work'." Kingsley's gaze was stern, and Harry got the feeling that he was trapped in an argument he couldn't win. Lucky for him, he was unbelievably stubborn, a trait he credited his dad for.

"That was before I saw the effect of outside people and events on his ability to function. Give him a straightforward mission with everything he needs to know, and he has no problem. Add any complications, and he's all of a sudden a mess with an inability to function properly. You and I both know that what is going to come of this mission is entirely unpredictable, yet you weren't going to tell him that there is a 99% chance of something going wrong, for fear of him backing out. He's entirely unprepared because you have only shown him a fraction of what he should know, what would happen if the mission went perfectly, which we know it won't. That's why we didn't send in one of our own people, because then when they are captured, the Death Eaters won't be able to find anything out about our plans. He knows who he's filling in for, and who he's rescuing. He knows a few Death Eaters, and the minister. He knows how to get in to the Ministry, but not how to get out. You do realize that you never gave him an escape route or a backup plan? Because you know that if you did, he would know that something wrong is going to happen." Harry's voice had risen a degree, and he was beginning to get desperate.

Kingsley neither denied nor affirmed the accusations.

"We can't afford him to panic, Harry. Surely you understand the need for that. I'm sure that Mr. Amanar is more than capable of what has been set out for him, as long as he keeps his head." He lowered his voice, as if this making it more confidential would make it less of a problem.

"That's just the thing! He won't!" Harry burst in.

"And how do you know that he won't? How do you know that he isn't perfectly able to do something that maybe he could be born to do?" Kingsley boomed angrily. Harry clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palms.

"I know, because I've seen the way he acts around Hermione. He fancies her, Kingsley. And when he sees her in that jail cell, tortured or dead, you know how problematic that's going to be. He's either going to want to make himself a hero and take revenge, killing himself and blowing our cover and the mission, or he's going to give up and break down, killing himself and blowing the mission. Either way, we are going to be caught, and neither him, nor Hermione is ever going to make it out of there alive."

Kinglsey had left the room at that point, ending the conversation with a "You do not have the authority here." leaving Harry alone. He had given no sign to thinking about Harry's words, and when Malfoy had shown up, had sent Jacob off to the Ministry without a single word of warning.

Harry was intercepted on the way to Malfoy's room by Bill Weasley, who had stayed behind at Grimmauld Place as a head of the Order.

"Harry, did Kingsley say who he gave Malfoy's wand to?" He asked him. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know. He's downstairs, if you want to ask him."

Bill frowned. "He wanted to give it to Jacob for the mission, but I stopped him. There was no way I was going to give a non-experienced member of the Order the wand of a dark wizard, the possibility of corruption is too high. I wanted to examine it before it was given to anyone to make sure it was safe, but he took it before I could say anything. Jacob will perform best with his own wand, anyway. And as long as no one notices the difference, he should be fine." This piece of news disturbed Harry, and he paled, thinking of what could happen if Jacob was found out, but if Bill noticed, he made no sign of it.

He patted Harry on the shoulder and made his way downstairs, leaving Harry facing the large, oaken door that was the only thing between him and Draco Malfoy. He pushed, and it swung open easily.

In the middle of the room was a wooden chair. Puddles of water surrounded it, dripping off of the clothes of the chair's occupant; a fashionably dressed and recently bloodied Draco Malfoy. Malfoy looked up as Harry entered the room and smiled to himself.

"Hello again, Potter."

Well, there's that, anyone else feeling kinda bad for Jacob? And I apologize for making Kingsley such an arse, but it's gotta be hard being the head of the Order in times like these.

Free Kittens to all that Favorite/Review, I love each and every one of you!