Thin Lines

The Returning of What was Left and Lost

Draco laughed quietly in relief as he recognized the face under the hood.

"Good God, Weasley. You gave me quite a fright. I could have ..." He stopped, seeing the grim look on Ron's face.

"What? What's happened?" Ron looked at him for a moment as if he were trying to find the words. A faint trail of light fell across the yard from Dominic's window and Draco spun around. Instinctively, he started for the back door.

"It's okay! Ginny has him; he's safe. You have to come back with us now, Malfoy. I can't explain it here." Draco stared at him in disbelief.

"Can't explain what? Dammit, Weasley! You are not going to just rip us out of our house with out so much as an explanation." Draco squinted at him in the growing dark. Ron looked at him for a moment before his own frustration took over.

"I wouldn't be here if it were not important. This is not the time, nor the place to discuss this. And even if it were, I'm not sure that there are any words that can explain it!" The men stared at each other defiantly until they noticed Ginny's presence beside them.

"The portkey is just a few steps into these trees. Let's hurry, the Eagles said they would keep watch on your house." Ginny said, leading the away with the sleeping Dominic in her arms.

Draco followed in a daze. As he touched the old can that was the portkey, a million scenarios ran through his mind. What was so desperate that they would risk bringing him back to England? His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a frightened Briseis, scratching his hand in fear as a familiar street materialized in front of him.

As they walked toward Number Eleven, it jumped aside and the grimy door and walls of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place appeared. Upon entering the House of Black, Ginny rushed off to put Dominic back in bed and an impatient Briseis squirmed her way free into the hallway in front of them. Harry emerged from his left, the expression on his face unreadable. Draco stared at him expectantly as the Order of the Phoenix gathered behind Harry.

~~~

12 Grimmauld Place, 9 years earlier

Draco stood outside the study, listening to the impassioned voices coming from inside.

"How could you bring him here, Hermione? How!?" Harry demanded.

"Really, Hermione! You might as well have just sent the Dark Lord an owl with 'Twelve Grimmauld Place' written in a note! What were you thinking?" Ron added.

There was a pause before Hermione answered them. Draco smirked; he'd been subjected to that silence, that calm before the storm.

"I brought him here because I believe he can help us. Obviously Dumbledore thinks so as well or he wouldn't have given me permission to bring him here. You don't have to trust him, but you do have to trust me. I've never given you any reason to doubt my judgment, please don't start now."

Draco smiled at the valiance of her speech. He could almost hear them crumbling in front of her.

"Mr. Malfoy. Please follow me. The senior members of the Order would like a word."

Snape led him down the hall into a room that looked as if it had once been a bedroom. Now it looked rather like a conference room. Six tables were arranged in an outline of the square room; the wall to the right of the door held several magical message boards and moving maps. A dozen faces stared at him as he was led to a chair in the center of the room.

Dumbledore gave him a reassuring look as he sat down--which was more than he got from any of the others surrounding him. It didn't take a genius to see that he was not trusted or even wanted among these people. He kept his eyes on Dumbledore as he stood up to address the room.

"All right, everyone. Let us begin. Mr. Malfoy, I will begin by addressing you with several questions about your intentions toward the Order and then the other members are to follow suit." He adjusted his half-moon spectacles and glanced at the parchment he held in his hand, then back up at Draco. "What has led to your desire to join the Order and its efforts against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters?"

Draco sat in overwhelmed silence for a moment, carefully formulating his words. He had expected this question, but he still wasn't sure how to answer it. So that's exactly what he told them. The whole timeline of the previous year and a half followed liquidly. He told them about his father and his summer in the depths of Voldemort's hell. He told them, in vague detail, about his relationship with Hermione and his dissociation from both the proverbial good and evil.

"Don't come to the conclusion that I am doing this for love. I had an innate loyalty to my father, to being a Malfoy. Maybe a small part of me always will. But my previous willingness to participate in my father's dealings came from life-long breeding. I was raised on one side, that does not mean that I chose that side. In fact, I have never chosen a side period; I've never had the option. I am choosing now, however. That's why I'm here."

Draco realized that he was now standing, his chair several feet behind him. As he searched their faces for a reaction, he slunk backward, sitting back down. To his relief, much of the malice he had seen upon entering the room was gone from their faces.

A short time later, after several more speeches and explanations, he left the room, alone. A worried looking Hermione met him outside the door, gazing up at him expectantly.

Having no words, he only grinned at her.

~~~

Draco was struck by an ironic sense of déjà vu as the members of the Order closed in around him. He continued staring at Harry as silence filled the room.

"What's going on? Why has everyone been brought back here?" Draco demanded. Harry looked at him with the same pained expression Ron had given him. He motioned for Draco to follow him, and with Ron close behind, they left the others in wake and entered the door-lined hallway.

"We followed a pack of Death Eaters into Paris last week. They were using the Catacombs as a secondary headquarters." He opened the door to a small office lined with books and potions. "Some of our aurors and now some of the French aurors are still down there sifting through all of the passages. One of our junior aurors followed two stragglers out of the city, trying to escape with half a dozen captives. One of the stragglers she managed to kill, the other she captured and then brought the captives to a safe house outside the city." Harry paused, handing him a file.

"Crabbe and Goyle? They were transporting captives? No wonder they were caught." Draco marveled, flipping through their files. Each had a fresh, red stamp: Crabbe's read captured over his scowling picture, Goyle's flashed dead in bold, capital letters.

"Who were the captives?" Draco glanced from Harry to Ron, who were now making every effort to avoid his eyes. He saw Ron take a deep breath.

"When it was safe, we transported the six of them to St. Mungo's to be identified and treated. Three of them were too far gone from the torture to give us any information. One of them was a member of the French Ministry of Magic. Neville was also among them; he went missing about three weeks ago. And the last of them we've moved to a guarded room upstairs."

Draco noted uneasily that both of them seemed to be avoiding the true answer to his question.

"Well, Potter, who is it?" he demanded, growing more impatient with each of the worried looks that passed between Ron and Harry. Wordlessly, they brought him upstairs to the entrance of the aforementioned room and he began mentally tallying all of those he remembered were in the Order. The Pavarti twins joined just before he and Hermione left for America, but he recalled seeing them in the mob downstairs. There was that Creevy kid--he was so clumsy, it was feasible he could have been captured. That didn't make sense, though. Why would they risk bringing Draco back for him?

Harry and Ron stopped before the chipped, wooden door and nodded to the guards. Harry motioned for Draco to enter, the anxiety on his face increasing the speed of Draco's heartbeat. Hesitantly, he opened the door, still unsure of who would be on the other side, and debating whether he should continue in or just take Dominic and leave.

Pushing the door open the last few inches, Draco looked around for the sixth captive. A small bundle of ragged cloaks and tussled hair sat huddled in the corner of the dimly lit room. As the light from the door fell across it, a head rose and squinted in fear at the men. His eyes now fully adjusted, his grip tightened on the doorknob. He stood dumbfounded as he stared into a face he never thought he would see again.