"All right," Draco stood in front of Harry, Hermione and Ron, who were sitting rather stiffly on a couch in the front parlor of Malfoy Manor. Not the one in Scotland, mind you, but a smaller mansion his father had given him for his sixteenth birthday located in Canterbury, England. In order to keep the location a secret, he'd immediately sold it and then bought it back anonymously. He'd decided it was the perfect place to take Harry, Hermione and Ron to tell them what he knew. "After we left Hogwarts, we went to join up with the Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor. Voldemort had busted Dad out of Azkaban, so he was there too."
Harry held up a hand. "Lucius is out, and he didn't stop you from leaving?"
Draco sighed, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to explain elementary Death Eater policy. "I was taken in early, on my sixteenth birthday. That hadn't ever happened before. It was a sort of trial period, I guess you could say. Death Eaters have to be seventeen before they can be officially considered a member. So I had a choice, when I turned seventeen to pledge myself for life, or to revoke my membership."
"And you revoked yours." Hermione said kindly. She felt sympathetic toward Draco. His parents were evil, all he had ever known was evil, and yet, he was turning his back on that, on his family, and on the life that he had known, in order to do what he felt he had to do. "Why didn't they kill you?"
"My father." Draco looked pained for an instant, as he remembered the torture he'd gone through. Being told that all he had to do was tell them he'd changed his mind and it would stop. The Cruciatus curse, septumsempra. Being whipped the Muggle way, beaten with fists and feet. But he'd known, deep down, that all he had to do was survive and then he would be free. That the hours upon hours of pain were well worth the freedom he earned by enduring them.
"He stopped them from killing you?" Ron scoffed. "He's Death Eater to the core. Family comes well after Lord Voldemort."
"Death Eater or not, he is still my father. And I think he believes that once I've seen the other side, and gotten a chance to see things for myself, that I'll come crawling back."
"The Prodigal Son." Hermione whispered.
"What was that Granger?" Draco demanded, his silver gaze sharpening on hers.
"The Prodigal Son. It's a story they taught us in Sunday school. A man has a son who leaves with his inheritance. He wastes it on gambling and women and all manner of things. Once he can't take anymore, he goes crawling back to his father, begging to be a hand on the farm. To clean the pigpens, I think it was. His father holds a party and gives him jewels and clothes and a feast. He doesn't care what happened. All that mattered is that his son is finally home."
"All that's well and good, but I wouldn't get a feast and a party. More like a beating for leaving in the first place, and then a reinstatement as a Death Eater at the lowest possible level. Anyway, can we please get back on subject?"
Harry waved a hand. "Please. Continue."
"Thanks." Draco said dryly. "Once we got back to Malfoy Manor, there was a big party, celebrating the fall of Dumbledore. Eat, drink and be merry, I guess. Plenty of wine, food, and willing women. And there was Snape, in the guest of honor seat. We were planning a way to take over the rest of the Wizarding World. Maybe even the Muggle one if we had the whim. That's what seemed wrong to me. The Muggles are stupid, and while I still don't believe that Muggle born witches and wizards are as good as purebloods, they don't all deserve to die. They don't have a chance against us. It'd be like slaughtering puppies or kittens. Babies, perhaps."
Hermione barely repressed a smile. The self proclaimed Mudblood and Muggle hater had left partly because the Death Eaters had been planning on butchering those very people. She was beginning to realize that Draco had been all bark and little bite all through their years at school. She relaxed, enough that she shifted to use Harry's shoulder as a pillow. With all the precautions they'd had to take against being see together for more that a couple minutes, it had been after midnight by the time they'd all arrived at Draco's house. He'd had to Apparate them inside, and they'd all had to Apparate from separate spots. She was tired.
"Okay, so they want to take over the Muggle world." Hermione didn't phrase it as a question, though Draco nodded to assure her that she had it right. "I should Owl my parents and let them know. They can look out for any unusual activity. More strange deaths, attacks. All that. They know what to look for."
Draco pondered that. "No Owls. The Death Eaters could intercept them. You'll use Muggle mail. Email. Do you know how to do that?"
Hermione nodded, tongue in cheek. She'd been using email since she could write. "I know how."
"Good." Harry took command of the conversation at that point. "Is that all of their plan so far? Take over both worlds? Do you know the how? What to look for?"
"The same way they did last time." Draco paced. "Death Eater numbers are low. A lot have died, or are still in Azkaban. Still more did what I did and carved off their Mark. They need to recruit. Pureblood, than Halfbloods. What they can't recruit, they'll kill. After that, they'll attack the schools. Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, all the American schools. Mosnar's, Clockworth's. Once they control all the schools, it'll be the Alleys. Diagon, Knockturn, Draconis, Pelicula, Jarthra. All of them. After the Alleys are under their control, it'll be the Aurors, and then finally the whole of the Ministry. Once they control the wizarding world, it won't be hard to attack and destroy that of the Muggles."
Harry expelled a breath. "So we need to stop them." He looked at his friends, and at Draco. "And I'm afraid what we've been doing simply isn't going to cut it anymore. We need to go to the Order, and Malfoy, you need to make up a list of all their hideouts. We need to know where they are. Once we know that, we can start to stop them. Hopefully, if we do enough damage, Voldemort will decide to come after us. Or at least start sending the big wigs in this whole thing. Like Belletrix and Narcissa, and Lucius. Crabbe and Goyle, Snape." Harry's eyes shined with anger. "I'd really like for him to send Snape. I've been practicing."
Draco couldn't believe what he was about to say. "Snape's been practicing too. And Voldemort was planning on sending my father and Snape to get you. They want you alive, Potter. Voldemort wants to kill you himself."
Harry sneered, and managed to look dangerous. Malfoy was unwillingly impressed. "He'll get his chance. And I'll do to him now what I did to him then. Except this time, I won't be a baby. I'm going to end this."
Ron patted Harry's shoulder. "I believe you will, mate. Or at least that you'll take him out with you."
Hermione glared at all three of the boys. "No one is going to die." She said sternly, and Draco realized just why the other two men had listened to her for so long. She sounded just like his mother. Strict and daring you to defy her. "Except," she added, almost as an afterthought, "the Death Eaters."
Draco lifted his glass of wine. "Amen to that. Now, it's getting late, and I'm exhausted. You may," he said, with grudging hospitality, "Stay here if you wish. Or, I'll meet you at the Weasley's tomorrow to meet with the Order. It is ultimately your decision."
Ron laughed as they got their cloaks. "There's the pompous ass we all hate."
Hermione tucked her wand into her pocket. "We'll go back to the apartment. This is one of few nights we get to sleep in our own beds."
Harry opened the front door and the three friends stepped through. He looked back at Draco. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this, Malfoy, but we're trusting you as much as you're trusting us. That means we both have a lot to lose here."
"Save your breath, Potter. I've absolutely no plans of betraying you. It would be my neck in the proverbial guillotine right next to yours." He smiled for the first time. "And if we're nothing else, we Malfoy's are self preservationists." He turned back into the house. "I'll be there at noon. Make sure everyone knows I'm not there to kill them before I arrive. I don't want to be cursed on sight."
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The Weasley's weren't happy about the arrangement, and Harry didn't suppose he could blame them. But they had done as he had asked with little fuss and protest. When push came to shove, they trusted him. After all, he'd saved the lives of most of their family. And he had Hermione's support on the whole matter. That had helped too.
Molly was puttering around in the kitchen when Hermione and Ginny bounded in. She looked at her daughter and the woman she considered hers and felt tears well up in her eyes. They'd both been forced to grow up much faster than she would have liked. And they'd bloomed from girls into women, despite their young ages.
Hermione had sprouted a good four inches since the end of her sixth year, landing at five foot eight. Her hair had lost it's frizziness and settled into ringlets. Her features had softened, lending her the look of elegance and classic beauty. Strong cheekbones, big chocolate brown eyes, and a lush mouth no one had noticed before she'd had her teeth fixed. Her hair had changed colors slightly, to a deep whisky color, as opposed to the mousy brown it had been through her childhood. Her body had curved gently, straying from the straight lines that had plagued her adolescence. Overall, she was happy with her less than voluptuous, but relatively proportionate frame.
Ginny was the opposite. She'd stopped growing at five foot five and was a powerhouse. She reveled in her wildly red hair, loved the fact that it was straight. Her features were striking. High cheekbones, huge, bright green eyes, high dramatic forehead, pointed chin, straight nose. Her mouth was wide and full, her teeth straight and white. Her body was packed full of curves, lush and full, though her body remained slim. She worked mercilessly to keep it that way. She'd come quite a way from the stick figure she'd been throughout her first fifteen years.
The boys had grown into their looks too, Molly mused, looking at Harry and Ron. Both had stopped at over six feet, though Ron was the taller of the two. They had filled out as well, becoming slim and muscular rather than skinny and gangly. Harry was more filled out, his body like James' had been. Wide of shoulder, narrow of hip, rakish grin and a heart of gold. Ron took after the twins. Always looked like he was up to no good, and normally was. It was the combination of that impishness and boyish charm that kept the girls watching them.
Molly saw Arthur let Draco in, and her mouth dropped open. He wasn't the small, almost evil looking boy she remembered. No, he too, had changed drastically. He'd stopped growing at probably six feet on the dot, she estimated, and was built like a brawler. Muscled packed tightly beneath the plain t-shirt and jeans he wore. His face had lost its gauntness and filled out, making him handsome. He, too, possessed the rakish grin that made most women fawn, but Molly imagined he was most likely a rake, where Harry wasn't. His hair was longer than she remembered, but it worked for him. Molly saw Ginny head into the front room, stop and stare. Draco was in just as much shock.
"Well, Weasel," he said, and the voice shook Molly from her trance, "you've certainly grown up since I saw you last."
"So have you, Malfoy. You look less like a snake, and more like a human."
"Such a compliment. Potter, I need to talk to you."
Harry made his way over. "What's up?"
Draco took a deep breath. "There's something I didn't tell you last night."
"What?"
"They aren't dead."
Harry's brow creased. "Who isn't dead?"
"Your parents. Sirius. They're still alive. See, when you defeated Voldemort, the last curses Voldemort did were reversed. But the Ministry took your parents to a safe hiding place and placed them in a sleep state, if you will. The same with Sirius. That thing that was supposed to kill him simply took his to the same chamber as your parents."
It would be to his eternal consternation that Malfoy's face was the last thing that Harry saw before he passed out.
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