Author's Note: This is a completely useless author's note that you can disregard. I just wanted to say that I am somewhat annoyed by the new thing they've put to the right of the top line for sharing stories because that if I don't put an author's note at the top, then it pushes my chapter title to the left, making it off-center, which pisses off the OCD part of me.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 6

I'm lounging in a worn-out, high-backed armchair facing the fireplace in my godfather's study. My mask is hanging on the armrest, and my extra cloak is draped over the back of the chair. It's already been twenty minutes, and still Potter hasn't shown.

I decide to give him ten more minutes before leaving.

Then I hear the floorboards creaking very quietly.

Someone's coming.

I wait calmly until they're in the room before letting my eyes wander up to the small mirror that hangs over the fireplace.

A head of red hair.

Why am I not surprised?

"This is hardly good for trust-building," I say.

I see his surprised expression, but then he looks at the mirror and scowls.

"I'm not here to build trust with you, you insufferable bastard. Now, what kind of information are you giving to us?"

I click my tongue and stand up, turning to face him. "Do you really think you can just show up, after I specifically asked to see Potter, and expect me to tell you what I know? Even after I kept my word and didn't bring a wand?"

He points his wand at me. "Yeah, I do expect that. I could kill you, and no one would care. I could just tell them that you attacked me."

"It's true. That's certainly something you could do. But you'd regret it."

Weasley narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"I won't tell you," I say. "I asked for Potter. I suppose since the Order doesn't care for my information, I'll just go back. It's safer for me that way, anyway."

I start to walk around the armchair.

"Don't move, or I'll blast your arse to hell," Weasley says.

I don't stop moving. "Go ahead," I say, stepping toward him.

He lets me pass by him.

"Answer me this," he says as I start walking down the hall, away from him. "Why would you offer information to us anyway?"

"Has it never occurred to you that you're not the only ones who want the war to be over?" I reply.

"Malfoy, wait," he says. "I'll take to you Harry."

I spin around and wait. So Potter is around here somewhere, after all.

"I'm only here to make sure that you held up your end of the deal," he continues. Then he points his wand at me. "Expelliarmus!"

Nothing happens, as expected.

I raise my hands to shoulder height and turn my palms out for him to see. "See that? No wand."

He glares at me. "Fine, let's go."

He storms down the hallway past me.

I smirk and follow him. We exit through the back door of my godfather's house.

Weasley raises his wand and whispers, "Expecto Patronum."

A silver dog emerges from the tip of his wand and flies off into the dark.

"Funny, Weasley, I would have thought your Patronus would be a weasel," I say.

"Yeah well, I'm sure yours isn't a bloody ferret either, so I suppose we'll both just have to be disappointed," he replies.

"So, why's it only you tonight, Weaselbee? Where's Know-It-All Granger? Or did she die already?"

He spins around, jabbing his wand into my chest. "I bet you'd love to hear that, wouldn't you? Asking something like that makes me question how much we can trust you," he growls.

I grin. "Sure, I wouldn't mind hearing it, but I don't know if I'd love it."

His grip tightens on his wand. "You bloody—"

"Ron, stop," Potter says, stepping into view.

"Perfect Potter, here to save the day," I say sarcastically.

"Malfoy, I'm surprised you've lived so long," he responds. "I thought you'd be picked off in the first few fights."

I smirk. "Yeah, I'm just full of surprises, aren't I?"

"You wanted to talk to me," he says impatiently. "Talk."

"Sure. Come back inside, and we'll talk. Weasley has to stay outside, though."

"Anything you tell me, I'll tell him."

"I don't mind that. I don't care if he listens. I just don't want to hear his input, and since he seems to be unable to exercise self-control, it's better if he just hears about it later."

Weasley glares at me but manages to hold his tongue.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's full of surprises," I say. "Come in then, Potter."

I walk back into my godfather's house without bothering to check if he's following. I enter the study and sit in front of my godfather's desk. Potter enters and sits across from me. He waves his wand to shut the door.

"Ron's waiting outside. Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Surely Blaise told you why I wanted to see you," I say.

"He may have mentioned something about you wanting to provide information for the Order, but I wanted to hear it from you."

"Well, he wasn't lying. That's what I want to do."

"Why?"

"Why? Hmm, I don't know. Maybe because I'm tired of living comfortably and I'd like the excitement of being hunted down like a wild animal."

He raises his eyebrows.

"I suppose you want a nice little sob story from me, something that would make me different from all the other Death Eaters," I say. "I don't have one. I'm not going to tell you that I only became a Death Eater to please my parents, or that I was afraid of being killed by Voldemort if I didn't join. I joined because I wanted to."

"Then why are you thinking about switching sides now?"

Yeah, why the bloody hell am I switching sides?

"Because I've decided that I hate war," I reply. "I don't like all the fighting that's been going on. I don't like hearing about friends dying. And if Voldemort wins this war, the killings will never stop. Even when he finishes killing Mudbloods, I'm sure he won't stop. He'll just find something new to exterminate. To stop the killing, the Light side has to win the war."

Fuck, I sound like a bloody environmental activist. Next thing you know, I'll be waving signs that say "Protect the Pygmy Puffs!"

"Well, if that's the truth, we want the same thing," Potter says.

Looks like he bought it.

"But you could have come long ago. I doubt it'd take three years for you to decide that you don't like war. Why are you coming now? There must be a reason why you've chosen to turn now."

I shake my head. "I didn't really have an opportunity before now, did I? It's not like I could march into your headquarters without getting my head blown off. That is, if I could find your headquarters in the first place."

"I suppose that's true," he says. "What kind of information are you going to give us?"

"Anything that I think would be useful to you."

"Give me an example."

I lean back in my seat and steeple my fingers, thinking, deliberately taking my time. I don't know why it feels good to make him wait.

Finally, I speak, "I heard you were pretty badly injured at the Leaky Cauldron two weeks ago, and a rare herb was stolen from Hogwarts the same night. It's not a big leap to say one of your people stole it, is it?"

He shakes his head. "Go on."

His patience irks me, but I continue anyway, "Although they got away, it's not easy to get in and out of Hogwarts with our patrols. I could provide you with schedules, shift changes, patrol routes. And not just for Hogwarts. Is that a good enough example for you?"

He looks doubtful. "How would we know whether or not you're telling the truth?"

"How can you ever know if anyone's telling the truth?" I return.

He blinks, seemingly surprised by my reply.

"I can give you the times and locations of shift changes right now," I say.

"Why?"

"For the same reason that I didn't bring a wand tonight. Building trust."

He frowns. "All right, give them to me."

I pull open a drawer of my godfather's desk and take out a roll of parchment. "These are all the times and locations for shift changes at Hogwarts."

I pass the roll to Potter, who takes it and partially unfurls it.

"You can send someone out there, any scout, and check any one of those times. Or check all of them, if you want," I say.

"This is a risky position," he finally says. "I doubt you're going to give us information for free."

"Of course I won't," I reply. "I'm still a Slytherin. It's in our nature to think of our own needs."

"How could I forget?" he says sarcastically.

"I have only three conditions, and I trust they won't be hard for you to meet."

"What are they?"

"First, I will give information to only one person. Second, our rendezvous point will be known only to the two of us, and I will come and go as is convenient for me."

"Well, we can't give you complete freedom," Potter says, stopping me in the middle of listing conditions. "At least, not right from the start," he adds.

I frown.

"You'll have to be present for us to examine you," he explains. "It'll be just one time."

"Do you honestly think you'll be able to examine me? I'm probably the best Occlumens there ever was."

"Whether or not that's true, you're probably the most arrogant bastard there ever was."

"Thank you," I say with a smile.

I watch his jaw clench as he attempts to control his temper.

"Regardless, you'll have to come," he says evenly.

I nod. "Very well."

"Then your last condition?"

"I'll choose my contact."

"Do you have anyone in mind?"

"I want Granger."

"No," he says immediately.

"Well then, I suppose that's that," I say, getting to my feet. "You can keep the list of shift changes. Call it a parting gift."

"Malfoy, hold it," Potter says. "Sit back down—please."

I watch him as I sit down. What's going on in that head of his?

"I want to know why you would ask for her," he says slowly.

"Why not?"

"I was under the impression that you hated her. Something about Mudblood scum, remember? I just want to know why you would choose her when there are so many other—"

"I have my reasons," I say. "Knowing my rationale won't help you if your goal is to persuade me to choose someone else. I won't change my mind. Now, make your decision. If you can't meet my conditions, I won't help you. After all, it's my neck that will be going on the line."

"Let me think about it."

I shake my head. "I don't have time for that. Can we work together or not?"

"Don't you think you should at least give her a choice to reject you?" he asks.

"Potter, I don't have to be here right now. I can stay on the winning side and be perfectly fine. I don't have to help you. This is something you don't seem to understand."

"Oh I understand, all right," he says. "I just don't want—"

"Then it's simple," I cut him off. "I'll walk out, and we can act like this never happened."

I almost want him to turn down the deal. After all, offering this deal in the first place was a death wish. Who would be thick enough to do this? Oh right, I would.

But he's considering it, and that's enough. I'm almost positive that he'll accept.

It's true that the Order is in trouble.

Although most members of the Order have remained unscathed, Muggle cities are being decimated all across the globe, and there isn't much they can do to stop us without inside knowledge so that they can reach the targeted cities in time to make a difference.

Finally, his green eyes meet mine. I can see that he's given up.

"Fine, I accept," he says.

"Good. When do you want to examine me?"

He doesn't reply.

Since I still have eye contact with him, I dive into his mind. He flinches, and I can feel him scrabbling, trying to keep me out. But his walls are weak, and I pry them apart with hardly any effort.

I'm looking at the back of a rather large boy's head. What the…?

I try to move closer to the present. He's moving down a hallway at Hogwarts, and I hear soft sounds that seem to be someone crying. Then I recognize the voice—it's me. This must be sixth year.

Repressing the anger that rises as I remember how I was attacked, I continue flipping through memories.

I see a dingy room, with a long, very old-looking table in the middle. Many people that I recognize from school sit on either side. There's a fire roaring in the fireplace at the end. Kingsley Shacklebolt is speaking.

Yes, this is what I'm looking for.

I skip forward a few meetings until I hear my name.

"Are we really going to trust Malfoy?" a dark-skinned girl asks.

I recognize her as one of the Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but I don't know which she is.

Then Kingsley Shacklebolt is speaking, "We don't trust him. Harry and Ron will meet him to see what he has to say. If he seems trustworthy, they will render him unconscious and bring him here, so that there will be no risk of breaking the Fidelius Charm."

Render me unconscious? Not without my permission.

I withdraw from Potter's mind, and he bolts to his feet.

"Malfoy, you had no right—"

"So, how are you planning to 'render me unconscious'?" I ask him.

He glares down at me.

"It's all right, go ahead and Stun me. I won't resist."

"I should kill you," he mutters, pointing his wand at me.

"You probably should," I reply, smirking.

A flash of red light blinds me.

Author's Note: I've got some new ideas to keep me going, so there is no need to worry, this story won't be going on hiatus for the time being. Yay!

Oh, and don't forget: review, review, review! :)