Winter's Flame

The meeting proved to be rather long and dull, with several witches and wizards that Draco had never seen before standing to give updates on undercover operations, the progress of certain people in other countries and what they were doing, speculations on what the Dark Lord may decide to do next, and so on. Draco had to give the Order credit, they seemed to know what they were doing. Especially considering he had never heard of them before now, though his father may have had prior knowledge. It would certainly explain why he hated Dumbledore so much.

For the most part, Draco was largely ignored, which surprised him. He had expected to be interrogated then thrown in the basement to rot for a while. As it were, he sat on a grey couch between Remus and Mundungus Fletcher, the latter of which had something suspiciously alive in his coat pocket which kept moving against Draco's leg. He noticed that the entire Weasley clan - bar the parents - were present and glared at him with intense dislike. If looks could kill, he'd have eighty-five stab wounds to the heart by now. The person whom Draco had thought most likely to attack him in the middle of the meeting sat in the corner, away from everyone else. He stared intently at Dumbledore, as if committing each word he said to memory.

"And now," Dumbledore dispersed the image of Romania he had been previously referring to. "We address the very grave issue of Miss Hermione Granger."

Ron Weasley immediately straightened and Potter broke form his concentration to flick a quick hate-filled glare towards Draco. Dumbledore did not look to him, however, but to Snape who, like Potter, had been on his own in another corner of the crowded lounge room. Snape did not move from his corner, but drew himself up a little taller.

"I have confirmed our previous suspicions," he began in his monotone voice. "A source has informed me of what underwent at a meeting last night which I could not attend. It seems that Miss Granger was there, with another young girl. Each was bound to different tree."

"Who was the other girl?" One of the Weasley twins interrupted.

Snape served him with a stern look, but answered his question anyway. "Pansy Parkinson."

"Pansy Parkinson?" Ginny Weasley squawked. "What was she doing there?"

"It seems she was branded without my knowledge," Snape said. "However, her family has been under suspicion from the Dark Lord for some time now. He feels they are rather losing her nerve. Mervyn Parkinson was killed in July following a failed attempt on Ronald Weasley, which we are all well aware of. Miss Parkinson was caught on her way to alert Professor McGonagall of what she knew of the Dark Lords plans, which was not much, I assure you. Her mark was then taken away." Draco glanced at Professor McGonagall, who sat in an armchair next to Dumbledore. Her eyes were downcast.

"I thought that once branded, one could never lose it?" an elderly wizard asked. Draco had never seen him before.

"You can't," Snape said plainly. "He carved the mark from her arm before casting Avada Kedavra on her-"

"WHAT?!" The outcry in the room was enormous as many jumped to their feet, disgusted.

"What happened to Hermione?" Ron demanded over the noise.

"Miss Granger was not hurt," Snape assured him. Draco felt a guilty pang in his stomach. She had been hurt. She'd had a chunk of skin sewn onto her arm. He'd seen himself the horrid, thick stitches that shabbily secured the mark to her. That was the one detail he'd neglected to tell Snape. "She was still on this tree when my source left the meeting."

"So how do you know she's alright?" Ron burst out. "She could be dead, for all we know! Those bastards probably chopped her up into tiny little pieces and-"

"Ronald," Dumbledore interrupted softly, "if Miss Granger were dead, we would know of it."

"The Professor is right," Snape nodded to the ageing Headmaster. "Miss Granger is being kept alive for reasons which would be advantageous to him. He seeks to draw Mr Potter out."

Draco glanced at Potter, who didn't react. He'd obviously grown used to the numerous plots to catch and kill him by now.

"You would know where this meeting was, though, wouldn't you Severus?" the long haired Weasley asked him.

"If you are implying that a member of the Order simply apparate in and free her, Bill, the answer is no," Snape dismissed the question. "She will be in a far more protected location by now. However," he said loudly as those gathered began to murmur to each other. Draco could see the Weasley clan growing increasingly irate. "This and the death of Lavender Brown has raised an opportunity to further infiltrate the Dark Lord's society. He has shown that he is interested in recruiting members of the 'new generation,' as he calls it. Teenagers. He has already begun to do so, as we now know that these children were behind the abductions of the three girls."

"What's that got to do with anything?" another Weasley twin asked, but was hushed by one of his older brothers; a freckled one with deeply tanned skin.

"You're going to send in a kid, aren't you?" said the woman Draco had seen in his house on the same day he'd met Mundungus. Something Tonks, her name had been. Her hair now, however, had grown impossibly long and straight, and in a rather odd shade of green.

"I am, yes," Snape nodded. "Professor's Dumbledore, McGonagall and I have discussed this in depth, and have nominated Mr Malfoy for the task."

"WHAT?" Remus leapt to his feet, outraged. It was an emotion Draco had never seen him wear. "Mercy's sakes, has the boy not been through enough lately? Was he even consulted?"

"Probably volunteered," Ron muttered darkly.

"Slimy little snake," Ginny added vehemently.

"He probably already is one," Potter said loudly. Everyone fell silent and looked to him whilst Draco finally realised the extent to which everyone present hated him and his family.

"You're right, Mr Potter," Snape said coolly, not appreciating his comment. "Draco has been branded, and has begun his work for us. He was my source for last night's meeting."

"What?" Remus stared at Snape in apparent disbelief. "You had him branded? I am his legal guardian! He was put into my care! You can't touch him without my permission!"

"It was an ill handled case!" Snape snapped back. "He should never have gone to you in the first place. You are clearly not fit to care for a child in your state."

Lupin growled, a growl not unlike the one Draco had sent in Potters direction only an hour earlier. He saw Ron's eyes widen for a moment, then glance suspiciously at him.

"Temper, temper," Snape said snidely. "You wouldn't want to show the boy a bad example now, would you?"

"Oh, honestly!" the Portly Mrs Weasley stood between them, her hands on her hips. "You're both behaving like children. Remus, I've never seen you like this before! Sit down, for goodness sakes, before you hurt somebody. And Severus! I don't care what danger you may throw yourself into, but he's just a boy!" She drew Draco up from the cough and placed an arm around his shoulders. In the current volatile situation, he tried his best not to cringe.

"MUM!" On of the twins complained loudly, an expression of pure disgust on his freckled face. "You're hugging a Malfoy!"

"George Weasley," she glowered. "Quiet, or I'll set you to cleaning house for a week! Draco's here, brought by Albus, and so he is one of us! Understood?"

George muttered something under his breath.

"I HEARD THAT!" She thundered, but was brought to a halt before she could launch into a full blown attack.

"How do you know he's working for us?" Potter asked, voicing the thoughts of most of those gathered. "What if he's working undercover for Voldemort? What if he turns out just like Pettigrew? And it's not as if he's going to be able to keep all this from him. He's not an Occlumens."

"Actually, I am," Draco lied, speaking up for the first time. He was bright enough to know what was happening. Snape had told Dumbledore and possibly McGonagall that he'd already been branded and had set up a scenario in which he could join the Order without being murdered. For the time being, it was in his best interests to play along. "Besides, I'm the perfect person for the job. Dumbl- Professor's Dumbledore and Snape saw me about it a while ago." He glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded at him slightly, a twinkle in his bright eyes. "I'm a Malfoy." He ignored the muttered 'no shit' from George Weasley. "My father and mother are respected Death Eaters. The other Slytherins look up to me." He was taking quite a few liberties here, but at least it all sounded good. "Vol- Volde- the, uh, Dark Lord won't suspect me at all. He's involving kids in his plans much more. Like Professor Snape said, before I was branded they were behind Lavender Brown's murder. Maybe I can find out where they're keeping Granger."

"Maybe you helped put her there," Potter snapped.

"Harry," Ron said warningly. Harry gawped at him in amazement as Ron shook a strand of red hair from his brilliant eyes, pulling himself up to his full height and looking down on the blonde Malfoy. "I don't like this slimy little toerag anymore than you do," he said darkly, not taking his blue eyes off of Draco's golden ones. "But if he can help bring back Hermione… if he can help… then I'll accept him."

Draco restrained the urge to raise his eyebrows or laugh at the serious expression on the taller boy's face. What he'd said wasn't funny. It was… sort of noble. The last thing Draco would ever have expected from the Weasel king. But then, maybe Ron had grown up, too.

"And you wondered why I made him Prefect," Dumbledore nudged McGonagall before raising his voice. "Well, then. Meeting adjourned. Snape, Remus. I'll see you in the basement. Now."

~

It was strange, he realised. Sleeping in a house full of those he'd always considered enemies. Yet they accepted him. They weren't exactly happy about it, but they had allowed him inside. They left him alone. Most were even civil. The crazy witch with the green hair had even spoken with him in the kitchen earlier, when everybody had left or was heading to bed.

"Where do they keep the food in here…" she had mused to herself, searching through the cupboards. "I know there's some in here somewhere… oh, wotcher, Draco! …Ugh, don't bother trying to pronounce that. I hate it anyway. Just call me Tonks. Say, do you know where the peanut butter's run off to? Oh, wait, here it is. Do you want one? Course you do. You look famished. You're too skin- Oops! Well, good thing it's only made of plastic, right? Pull up a seat. If I can find the plates…here they are. Oh, I've been meaning to ask… is green my colour, or does it look horrid? You can say. I thought maybe blonde would look better… OH! Whoops! Reparo!"

The only problem was that now he was in bed, his stomach full of peanut butter sandwiches and his mind full of the events of the day, he couldn't sleep. He tried counting sheep, though as always it didn't work. Probably for the lack of sheep. He tried counting the stars he could see twinkling in the sky outside, but that only served to frustrate him. He kept losing his place.

Moving softly, so as not to disturb the sleeping Remus in the bed across the room, Draco tiptoed out of the room which had once belonged to Sirius and his brother.

Remus had been in a foul mood for the rest of the night. He had stormed into the bedroom very late, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat. He had sat down briefly at the piano, but after striking a few angry chords he had bid Draco goodnight and wrapped himself in the blankets of his lovers childhood bed and not made another noise.

Not sure what to do now that he was wandering in this strange house at night, Draco decided to make his way down to the kitchen and fix himself a coffee. He'd grown increasingly reliant on caffeine over the last few weeks. He found they calmed his nerves. "Now where did that bloody kitchen go?" he wondered, before crashing headlong into a dark shape as he bypassed the front door.

"OUCH!" the shape growled, "what are you doin' down 'ere at this time 'o night, boy?"

"Mundungus?" Draco asked, rubbing his head. "Where are you going?"

"I've got some errands I 'ave to run," he replied shiftily, though Draco could have sworn the man was smiling.

"All perfectly legal, I assume. Can I come?"

"Ah, one 'o yer guardian's would skin me alive, they would. Maybe next time, lad. I'll introduce you around."

Draco grinned. "I'll look forward to it. Don't get arrested, now."

"Arrested?" Mundungus spluttered indignantly as he disappeared out the front door. "I 'aint never been arrested…"

Draco smothered a smile and made his way through the empty lounge room to the kitchen, where he occupied himself for a while by searching for the coffee, milk and mugs. The milk seemed to have run off to some unknown place, so he'd had to settle for straight black coffee, which surprisingly seemed to calm him more effectively than white coffee did. He resolved to have it more often. He sat at the kitchen table by himself for a long time, staring into space. He contemplated calling Morgan to him, but to what purpose? All he wanted was somebody to talk to, and he didn't fancy that the Queen of Winter, currently help prisoner by an evil overlord would supply the company he so yearned for.

With a pang, he realised that he missed the Hart twins. He needed Maria's scathing commentary on life and Carlos' easygoing attitude. Too bad they were currently in Italy, or somewhere else equally inaccessible.

"I'm telling you, I don't trust him," Potters voice broke through the thick darkness of the night. Draco froze. "I say he's a spy for Voldemort."

"Would you stop saying his bloody name?" Ron Weasley stressed as he heard them both flop into the thickly cushioned couches in the next room. "You'll give me a heart attack one of these days."

"Well you already seem to be brain damaged," Potter shot rudely.

Ron sighed. "Harry, don't you think Dumbledore would know if Malfoy was a spy for You-Know-Who? And Lupin seems to trust him. I thought he had good judgement."

"Professor Lupin was saddled with him ages ago. He's obligated to look after him, and for some reason, he's gotten attached to him. He's obviously not seeing clearly!"

"What about Dumbledore, then? There's no way he could get past him."

"Crouch did," Potter replied simply. "And so did Pettigrew. You heard Malfoy, he reckon's he's an Occlumens. So what's to stop him blocking his thoughts out from Dumbledore?"

"Because he was probably lying," Ron scoffed. "You've been having all those lessons and you're still terrible at it. And who would have taught him? He's a gutless snake but I don't think he's here for Vol- ah- You Know."

"You sound exactly like Hermione," Potter muttered.

"Well one of us has to," Ron shot back, suddenly defensive. "At least she's got some sense."

"Yeah? Well how come you're suddenly best friends with the guy who kidnapped her?"

"Christ, Harry, would you just listen to yourself? Lupin said Malfoy was with him when Hermione was taken. And I don't give a flying fuck who I have to be best friends with to get her home. I'd make friends with You-Know-Who if I knew it would bring her back. Stop acting like such a kid!"

Draco went to take another sip of his coffee, but accidentally knocked the ceramic mug as he did so, cringing as it made an audible bang on the wooden tabletop. "Here we go…" he murmured as the two in the next room reacted in the expected way.

"What was that?" Potter asked sharply.

"There's somebody in the kitchen," he heard Ron say before the freckled face peered around the doorframe. In the stark moonlight, his ginger hair appeared a dark brown. Like Draco's, it had grown rather shaggy of late. Probably due to a universal negligence in the light of recent events. "What are you doing down here?" Rona asked darkly.

"Couldn’t sleep," Draco shrugged, deciding at once to be civil. Rudeness at this point wouldn't do him any favours. Especially since Ron had emerged as an unexpected ally.

"Spying, more like," Harry appeared next to his tall friend.

"Hardly. I was here first," he gestured to his half drunken coffee. "You'd have heard me, otherwise."

"We didn't hear you until now," Ron said suspiciously. "Why didn't you let us know you were here?"
"Because I didn't feel like being attacked in the middle of my coffee," he said blandly. "Which I suppose I'll have to deal with now."

Ron rolled his eyes, the whites flashing in the moonlight. "We're not going to attack you, Malfoy."

"We're not?" Harry asked flatly.

"No," Ron replied firmly. "We're not."

"Christ, Weasley, when did you get all grown up?" Draco muttered into his coffee cup, secretly relieved at this new mature presence. At least he didn't have to get all weird like had earlier. The power he'd felt as he'd thrown Potter across the hall was extraordinary, but the insane redness which flashed across his eyes, marring his clear vision was terrifying. Exhilarating, but… he didn’t want to have to deal with that again. Especially not at two in the morning.

"I've got bigger things to worry about than people like you, Malfoy," Ron said flatly.

"Granger," Draco took a wild guess.

Ron's face remained blank. "Yeah. Bring her home, and do it soon. And if I found out you've hurt her in any way…" he trailed off, leaving Draco to wonder what the tall boy presumed he would do. Deduct house points?

"No," Potter said suddenly, a deep light burning in his strangely bright eyes. "Don't bring her home."

Ron shot him a look. "What?"

"Find out where she is," Potter said. "And take us to her."

"What?" Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Are you bloody insane?"

"I don't believe he'll just bring her home," Potter maintained. "He'll get… Maria Hart, or somebody to take polyjuice potion and pretend to be her. They'll infiltrate the Order. We can't risk it."

"Maria's in Italy," Draco pointed out mildly.

"I'll only believe it's her if I see her with my own eyes," Potter insisted.

Ron fell silent, as if considering it.

"You're a bloody idiot, Potter," Draco said. "If I take you to Granger, Vol- Volder-"

"Don't say his name," Ron said automatically.

"The Dark Lord will be waiting for you. You coming to free her is exactly what he's counting on."

"I can handle Voldemort," Potter said flippantly.

"Don't say his name!"

"My, aren't we getting blasé?" Draco snapped, Potter's idiocy irritating the hell out of him. He suddenly recalled some things he'd heard when spying on his father as a boy. "From what I've heard, you're the only one with any hope of killing the bastard-"

"So I'll kill him when we get there," Potter stressed.

"Don't be stupid! You won't be ready!"

"Ready for what? I'm supposed to kill him, or he's supposed to kill me! Let's get the damn thing over with!"

Draco clenched his jaw. He couldn't believe he was trying to talk Potter out of getting killed. What was up with him lately? "I'm not going to be responsible for you getting killed. Remus will skin me alive."

Potter reached over and grabbed the front of Draco's shirt. "You find Hermione, and you find a way to get there from here. And then you take us there. Understand?"

Resisting the urge to fling him across the room again, Draco's eyes filled with red once more and an almost inaudible growl emerged from his throat. Potter seemed not to notice it, but Ron frowned slightly. "Fine," Draco gritted. "I'll take you to Granger. Just don't come crying to me when you get killed."