Chapter Five

The Young Order of the Phoenix

Hermione was looking for Harry.

She walked through the dark corridor, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She could keep her thoughts cool and logical despite the hot insistent hammer of panic beating in her chest.

Harry had been seen last with Draco Malfoy, walking down the school steps.

Nobody knew what had happened to them next - that had been five hours ago, and in that time...

Hermione was holding fast to her wand, though she knew that a wand would be useless to her, as it had been to the others. She bit down on her lip and told herself to stop thinking about it.

Ron was looking around the Slytherin dungeons, although Hermione figured the only way the Slytherins would let Harry onto their turf would be in pieces.

She had checked the fourth and was about to check the fifth floor.

Please, please let him be all right. Please, please let him be...

"Malfoy, get out!"

...here.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, and ran down the corridor to hug him.

He reciprocated, looking rather startled. He also looked a right mess. His hair was all over the place, his face was streaked with mud, his clothes torn and filled with twigs - and he was smiling a little, looking far more at ease than usual.

It was... strange. Almost disorienting.

"Harry - what happened?"

"Oh - um." Harry blinked. "Nothing much. Malfoy and I went for a walk in the Forbidden Forest-"

"You did what? Why? Where did all the, er, mud come from?"

"Well, there was this ditch."

Hermione resisted the urge to tear out her own hair in handfuls.

"Harry. What happened?"

Harry smiled again. "Ah. I happened to mention certain things about giant spiders, and somebody," he raised his voice, "lost it when he heard a noise and dragged me into a ditch."

A querulous and, Hermione thought, distinctly unpleasant voice answered him. "It could have been something dangerous."

"It was a deer, Malfoy," Harry said to the door. "A little, helpless, harmless fawn, to be exact. And I'm covered in mud, and you've been hogging the bathroom for over an hour. So get out."

Hermione was just... too tired for this.

"Harry - why couldn't you have used the Gryffindor bathrooms?" she asked.

"This git said he'd only be a minute!"

"Correction, Potter," came Malfoy's cool voice. "I said I would only take as long as I needed to get my hair right."

"You've been in there an hour! And you've probably used up all the ice-white foam."

"I just happen to like it, all right?"

"Did you know that there's a ghost in school who likes to peep at prefects from out of the taps?"

"What?"

There was a hasty splash, as if someone were diving under protective layers of foam.

Hermione was beginning to feel left out of this conversation. She was also horrified at the thought that nudity of a Malfoy nature was happening nearby.

"You seem to know all the school's dirty little secrets, Potter," Malfoy observed in his condescending voice. "It's hardly decent for a Gryffindor

"And how would a Slytherin define decency?"

There was a pause.

"What's Granger want, then?"

And that was when Hermione felt her surface worry and relief fade, leaving only the grim reason she had come looking for Harry.

"Yes, Hermione, what-" Harry saw her face and the small smile left his lips. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Hang on, if it's interesting I want to hear too," Malfoy announced. "I'm getting out - but if any ghosts peep at me there will be very serious consequences."

Hermione was quite ready to tell Harry at once whether the prat liked it or not, but to her amazement Harry held up a hand. She just didn't have the strength to argue now.

In a moment Draco Malfoy appeared in the doorway, a billow of steam preceding him as if to herald the arrival of a demon king in a pantomime.

Rather appropriate, Hermione thought.

The wretched boy's figure became clear after a few moments, vigorously towelling his silvery hair.

"Well, Granger?" he said. "What's going on?"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest again, to protect herself from Malfoy's uncaring eyes, from Harry's concerned ones... and from her sudden chill.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan have - gone," she said slowly. "Just like the others. They were in the Hufflepuff common room and - then."

There was a heavy silence.

Eventually, Harry said, "They couldn't have... run?"

"Don't be stupid, Potter," Malfoy told him sharply. "They were Hufflepuff's representatives in the Young Council. They were taken, all right."

Hermione pressed her palms flat against her sides, trying to soothe herself, to pretend that it was Ron holding her and she was safe. "Besides, the-" She swallowed. "The Dark Mark was seen again. Over Hogwarts."

There was another silence.

People had been screaming the words until it seemed futile.

How is he doing it?

Nobody ever uttered it.

They were all held still and quiet, linked together by bleakness, and however much Hermione might dislike Malfoy she knew this link must remain. Each of them remained to carry the burden of those who had been taken. Each of them was the next potential victim.

"Oh no," Harry said at last, his tone deadened in the oppressive atmosphere.

"That about sums it up."

Hermione felt as if she was looking in on this scene, an indifferent observer noting the actions of three scared children.

Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe as both Harry and Hermione were leaning against the walls, unwilling to bear their own weight. The gesture was familiar to Hermione as everything about this situation was familiar.

These disappearances were more serious than before. Both the Hufflepuff representatives... a quarter of the Young Council...

We're being targeted.

Hermione resisted the urge to slip down the wall onto the floor, to clasp her arms around her knees and wait for comfort.

Instead she said, in a voice pinched into calmness, "Professor Lupin is holding a meeting of the Young Order tomorrow. The Young Council will probably be asked to stay afterwards."

Harry nodded wearily. It was no more than was expected.

Malfoy gave a sudden shiver. Hermione glanced over at him and noticed that he was still wet. His T-shirt was clinging to his skin, his hair looked like soggy tinsel, and his face gave no hint that the shiver was caused anything other than a chill.

When she looked over at Harry, she his face change from distress to... concern. Bloody hell. Concern for Malfoy? This friendship thing was going a long way too far.

"I'd better get back to my people," Malfoy said, in the muted tones they had all been using. Hermione noticed with a little quiver of distaste the casual, proprietorial way he referred to his housemates. "They'll be worried."

Hermione couldn't see the Slytherins being worried about anything.

"Yeah, of course," Harry replied at once. And now he definitely sounded concerned. "Will you be all right going down there...?"

He seemed to be looking at Malfoy's neck, where another droplet was coursing a path down the pale curve. Hermione had seen this before, of course - in the face of tragedy, you looked everywhere but into people's eyes.

Malfoy's eyebrow quirked.

"If the Dark Lord pounces from behind a corner, I'll give a girlish scream and you can come running to rescue me. Honestly, Potter!"

Harry laughed softly, almost reluctantly, and went with Hermione. She was feeling quite aggrieved.

All that worry because Harry had run off somewhere dangerous with Malfoy, and it wasn't like Malfoy could be trusted in a crisis - it wasn't like Malfoy could be trusted ever...

Something could have happened to him, but that was too terrifying even to contemplate. So many people had simply vanished - but not Harry.

Please, let it not happen to Harry.

Ron greeted her with a kiss and Harry with a hug - and he was not usually demonstrative, Hermione reflected.

She held onto him tightly and tried not to think about what had happened or what could happen. She looked over to catch Harry's eye and share more unspoken comfort.

But Harry was looking away, clearly thinking about something else.

*

Ginny Weasley was sitting through the minutes of the last Young Order of the Phoenix meeting and trying not to stare across at Harry.

She spent a great deal of her time in these meetings doing this, lulled into security by the fact that he either hung on Professor Lupin's quiet words or seemed lost in thought.

Of course, she also spent a great deal of time doing this during Quidditch matches, and at meal times, and just passing by in the corridors...

Ginny knew this was ridiculous. Crushes were not supposed to last for seven years.

Crushes were not supposed to last a lifetime, to have been taken in with a four-year-old's bread and milk. What small child could listen to a fairy tale about Prince Charming and not want to fill Cinderella's glass slippers?

What child could hear about a dark-haired hero who had saved the world, and been stranded like the princess in her tower among Muggles, and not want to reach out to him?

Ginny reckoned that every girl of her age had once cherished a secret fantasy about being the Girl Who The Boy Who Lived Loved.

It was just that every girl's brother didn't befriend Harry Potter. Every girl's mother did not practically adopt him.

Every girl was not rescued by Harry Potter when she was a lonely, trembling first year. Every girl did not realise that he was just what the propaganda said - brave, noble and true.

A boy like that only came by once in a lifetime.

Ginny had tried to stop embarrassing herself. She had exchanged awkward first kisses with Colin Creevey. She had even briefly dated Dean Thomas, that introspective artistic boy she had cared about, really cared, but... it hadn't lasted.

She had come to realise that her crush had been hammered diamond hard by time, and no-one else was ever going to measure up.

After all the hero-worship and the silly Valentines, the persistent yearning remained, and she had decided to just patiently wait it out.

There had to be a chance, just a chance. He had kissed her a couple of times last year, soft experimental kisses which had set her heart hammering with hope. He had not followed up on them - which she understood, of course she did, he had been wounded and unloved throughout his whole life, he couldn't possibly know that she loved him.

There had never been a whisper about him and any other girl, for which Ginny was profoundly grateful. His kiss with Cho Chang had been an unrepeated incident.

One day, Harry might reach out for Ginny again. And if he did, Ginny would be waiting.

Ginny surveyed Harry with shy joy. He was looking better recently, she thought, less unhappy. He was taking more care of his clothes and laughing more often. The Triwizard Tournament was clearly doing him good.

Even this odd little idea of friendship with Malfoy made Ginny smile indulgently. It was so like Harry to try and reclaim people, even hateful Slytherins like Malfoy. If Malfoy could distract Harry, and moreover could take up time that Harry might otherwise spend finding a girl, Ginny was all for it.

Harry would get tired of it soon, in any case.

Perhaps even today. Malfoy was bound to air his disgusting prejudices as usual.

Ginny glared over at Malfoy, whose head was bent over a piece of parchment. The hand that held his costly-looking quill seemed expensive too, all fine bones and pale skin. He was such a cosseted, detestable creature.

Ginny felt that girlish thrill - Oh, Harry's wonderful! - when she thought about the last time Malfoy had made a particularly off-colour remark about Mudbloods.

Harry, who had been sitting with that absent miserable look on his face that broke her heart, had looked up and his eyes had burned green fire.

Her fearless hero.

Ginny remembered it vividly.

"Say that again, Malfoy. I dare you," he'd snapped.

Malfoy, in his horrible icy drawl, had said it again.

Harry and Malfoy had stood up and leant across the table, snarling words of hatred at each other, their noses practically touching.

"Go on, Potter," Malfoy had urged him. "What better time to start a fight than in front of an admiring audience of Weasleys?"

He had sneered over at Ginny, who had gone cold.

Harry had grabbed the front of Malfoy's robes, looking about two seconds away from jumping over the table and doing something desperate.

"Leave them out of it!"

Ginny had glowed with adoration.

If Professor Lupin had not quietly broken up the meeting, who knew what could have happened?

Ginny noticed that Harry was watching Malfoy too.

Good. He wouldn't let that Slytherin get away with anything.

*

Harry was wondering if you could be schizophrenic for someone else.

He had the very distinct impression that there were two Malfoys hovering around Hogwarts, when one would be enough for anyone's sanity.

The two Malfoys bore a certain similarity to each other, but only an idiot would be fooled. Both the Malfoys smirked, and tossed around mean comments as if they were going out of fashion. Both the Malfoys had extremely dubious morals.

But one of the Malfoys laughed much more freely, and had ideas that were more about fun than evil. One of the Malfoys, whatever his opinions on Muggles, refrained from using the dreaded 'M' word. The other Malfoy didn't give a damn what he said.

One Malfoy was able to talk without malice. The wind constantly tumbled his hair into silver tangles, giving him a slightly softer look than the other Malfoy.

The second Malfoy was sitting across from Harry now, making some kind of notes on a piece of parchment. His hair was immaculate, the groomed tips of blond silk tucked behind his ears, and he did not look up from his parchment except when Pansy or Blaise spoke to him.

Harry was unobtrusively trying to attract his attention, for no reason he could think of. Perhaps he wanted some kind of reassurance that Malfoy would behave.

He didn't want to get into a fight with him today.

Eventually, he abandoned the indirect path and let out a noise that was half cough and half "Malfoy!"

Malfoy looked up, smiling slightly.

"Potter, you master of subtlety, you."

And in spite of the Slytherin death glares immediately trained on him, Harry felt a little reassured. He would have spoken further, but at that moment Professor Lupin came in.

*

Harry had liked Professor Lupin even back in third year.

He did more than like him now. He revered the man.

At the beginning of fifth year, Hogwarts had been frantic. Over the summer it had become clear to everyone that Voldemort was indeed back. People had begun vanishing.

The whole wizarding world had been suddenly plunged into war.

But children could not fight in a war. All they could do was go to Hogwarts, and wait in fear... for the news of the Mark being seen over their home, for the final horror.

Lupin had taken these terrified children and formed the Young Order of the Phoenix. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had flocked to the meetings, seizing the chance to discuss things - to feel as if they were contributing something and could learn.

Slytherins had not gone near the meetings.

Until Lucius Malfoy had died - over the Christmas holidays - and Draco Malfoy had turned up at the next meeting with a white set face and his Slytherin friends behind him.

Harry had been beside himself with annoyance at the intrusion. Lupin had accepted them quietly, and coped with the additional numbers by forming the Young Council, with two representatives selected from each House, for emergencies.

Many people hadn't taken the Young Order seriously until the next year, when the graduates from the Young Order used what Lupin had taught them to become formidable soldiers in the war.

Everyone knew now that the Young Order was vital. If you were against Voldemort, if you wanted a chance at survival... You learned the tactics and the reality of war around that table which Lupin headed.

Professor Lupin, always unassuming and yet utterly in charge. More reliable than the impulsive, temperamental Sirius, more available than the overburdened Dumbledore. He had become like a father to those whose parents had been - lost. And his calm presence had a great deal, Harry suspected, to do with so many people remaining at Hogwarts. When even Hogwarts began to suffer disappearances, there was mass panic.

Lupin had stayed calm, had made them feel safe, had talked to them.

He had won the love of most of his students, and the respect of even the Slytherins. Harry knew that the seventh years that were leaving Hogwarts would go into this battle with those steadfast grey eyes before them, seeing him as a symbol of hope, relying on what he had taught them.

He had done it all, this greying, shabby teacher who had been an outcast for most of his life.

Harry respected him greatly. Harry could see the adoration in many students' eyes when he called the meeting to order.

And that was why Malfoy's cracks at Young Order meetings had always annoyed Harry so much, and why Harry was dreading another now.

If Malfoy insulted Lupin...

Professor Lupin cleared his throat.

"We all know that - another disappearance has occurred," he said in his understated voice. "It would be pointless to tell you not to be afraid, or distressed. But do not let your fear or grief overwhelm you. Those who are left still have important work to do. Hufflepuff House has my deepest sympathy, and my admiration in that they have already appointed Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones to the Young Council."

Everybody clapped, a murmur of approval rising around the table.

Harry watched Malfoy clap in his decisive manner, much like the applause he gave new Slytherins at the start of every school year.

It struck him as strange that he knew how Malfoy clapped. Stranger that it was their last year, and that he would never notice him clapping for new Slytherins again.

Lupin was still talking.

"-am sure the other Young Councillors will do their utmost to help them. In other news, I'd like to commend Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Boot for their excellent diagram of their plan on last year's storming of the Riddle House. I believe their way would have ensured fewer casualties."

Terry Boot blushed red with pleasure. Malfoy inclined his head, accepting the applause as his due.

Insufferable git, Harry thought with a smile. So he was working on something with a Ravenclaw. Are they friends?

He watched Terry's hesitant glance over the table at Malfoy, but was unable to decide whether it was friendly or not. Malfoy was busy making eyes at pretty Susan Bones.

It was commonly known that Malfoy had little time for Hufflepuffs, and he was completely ignoring shy Hannah. But Malfoy always made exceptions for the cute ones.

"We have two motions to put to the vote, one practical and one theoretical."

Harry noticed that Malfoy almost returned Lupin's calm smile.

"Firstly, the question of protection, including drills. As we all know, there has been no year that has not suffered losses. Measures have to be taken to protect students. From now on, according to Miss Granger's excellent plan, teachers will accompany all first and second year students to their classes."

We are too desperately short-staffed to guard the elder classes, as you all know.

That part of Lupin's speech remained unspoken.

"The other students are requested not to go anywhere unaccompanied. Moreover, after the Duelling Club on Fridays we will have drills in case of a full-scale attack on Hogwarts. I want to see how quickly our Young Councillors, with prefects assisting, can bring the all the students down into the Great Hall and then put themselves into defensive positions at the entrances."

There were solemn nods all around. The Order voted unanimously in favour, though Harry noticed the Slytherins glancing at Malfoy before they voted.

"And then there is the theoretical vote."

Gazes were focused on Lupin all around the table. Everyone took theoretical votes seriously these days, since they knew that once they left school these issues would be reality.

"Should we, or should we not, share Mediwizard secrets which could save the lives of Muggles?"

"Absolutely not."

The sharp, cold voice rang around the room.

"I realise your viewpoint is different," Hermione said sharply. "You don't care whether Muggles live or die."

"And your viewpoint is different too," Malfoy snapped. "All you care about is your Muggle relatives, Mudblood."

An angry buzz rose around the table.

Malfoy had used that word several times in meetings, but he rarely applied it to another person. Especially not to Hermione Granger, their most respected Councillor.

Ron's face flamed red and Hermione's hand clenched. Lupin's remonstrations were lost amid the rising voices.

Harry felt his chest tighten, outrage and disappointment forming one fierce emotion that burned under his ribs and dimmed his vision.

He saw Malfoy in a haze, his pale face defiant and utterly without regret. His eyes met Harry's coolly, as if they were strangers.

"Malfoy." Harry heard his own voice almost with surprise, slicing sharply through his cloudy emotions. "Outside. Now."

Malfoy's lip curled.

"Why the hell should I go outside, Potter? Are you planning a little brawl out of the teacher's sight?"

"Harry, sit down," he heard Lupin say quietly, but Harry was past caring.

"I'm planning to get you out so everyone doesn't have to suffer from your revolting comments. And I'm planning to have a talk with you about your filthy mouth."

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. It was only then, when he noticed he was looking at Malfoy from a height, that Harry realised he'd risen to his feet.

"That kind of talk might well get you into a fight," Malfoy informed him with that slow, sneering air of his.

"I don't care," Harry said. "Get out here, and we'll talk. And then, if you like, we can fight."

Malfoy smiled suddenly, that lazy disdainful smile, and rose to look Harry directly in the eye.

"Well, Potter," he drawled, "it's always a good day for you to go down."

Harry strode over to the door, aware that his face was stormy.

"Get out here. And we'll see who goes down."

Ginny Weasley was leaning across the table, her eyes wide. Harry hoped the poor girl wasn't too horrified.

Malfoy had not moved. He seemed rather contemplative.

Harry met those cold eyes again, his gaze a direct challenge.

Malfoy walked out, sweeping past Harry and leaving him to shut the door against the incredulous gazes of the Young Council.

As he did so he heard Hermione say:

"Shouldn't we stop them, Professor?"

"Hermione," said Professor Lupin, "if we allowed our meetings to be broken up every time Harry and Draco Malfoy clash, we would never finish any of them."

Then Harry closed the door, and turned around to face Malfoy.

He was leaning against the wall, head tilted back to give Harry the full benefit of his chill scrutiny.

"Well, Potter? I'm eager to hear what you have to say - the sooner you're done, the sooner I get to give you what you've been asking for for years."

*

"I want to know what the hell you think you were doing in there! Don't you realise what you're making other people think about you? Don't you care what I think?"

"When I want your opinion, Potter, I'll give it to you," Malfoy drawled.

Harry slammed Malfoy against the wall.

"Get your hands off me!" Malfoy ordered, his eyes flashing.

"I will not!" Harry said, breathless with anger.

Malfoy lifted his chin, looking every inch the irate aristocrat.

"I can say what I think."

"Yes, but you're smart." Harry hadn't realised he thought that until he'd said it. "You can't possibly believe all that racist crap."

"I certainly don't believe in Lupin's do-gooder little motion."

Malfoy's voice was like ice. His supercilious tones were only making Harry's fury hotter.

Harry was so wrathful he stumbled over the words. "You - you don't think that helping people to survive would be a good thing?"

"I'd rather survive myself. Don't you realise that letting doctors and patients into magical secrets would just be another way to make the Muggle world aware of the magical one? Stop being Lupin's model boy for just a second and think!"

"It's people's lives we're talking about!"

"Yes." Malfoy's voice was flat. "It's us or them. Just like it's always been. You believe all that history they feed us about the Burning Times, Potter? Cutesy little stories about Wendelin the Weird making the flames tickle? You think that's all there is to it? Those were times of fear. Muggles soon learnt that all you have to do is take a wizard's wand. Once they've done that, they can burn you, drown you or break every bone in your body, and thread your limbs through the spokes of a wheel. That's what they did, and that's what they would do now. This is a time of war, it's a time to be more careful, and I don't care if Muggle-lovers are running the show, it's not safe to let our secrets out!"

Malfoy's voice had slowly become more impassioned. His eyes were gleaming now, and he had stepped forward, closer to Harry.

Harry took a step backwards, startled by the force of Malfoy's words.

"You didn't have to use the Mudblood crack," he replied in low tones.

Malfoy leaned back against the wall, his voice chill again.

"I don't trust that kind of people," he returned. "Each one of them gives the Muggles more chance of learning about us and attacking us. Don't you know the kind of resentment a magical person could stir up in a family?"

I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak!

Harry crushed down Petunia Dursley's words into the back of his mind.

"Take You-Know-Who," Malfoy said. "His father was a Muggle. My father told me that kind of people are unstable - well, what more proof do you need? Magic makes the Muggles mad. We should keep away from all of them."

"So why don't you refuse to work with Hermione?"

"I'm against You-Know-Who. She's already integrated into the magic world. I'll take allies where I can get them - it doesn't mean I have to like it."

"We're fighting this war against bigotry!"

"I'm not."

"Then... why?"

Malfoy shut his eyes, a move which left Harry staring. He seemed oddly vulnerable.

"I don't like Muggles," he said. "Doesn't mean I want to see them exterminated. But the main reason I'm in this war is - revenge." A small smile ghosted over his lips. "Is that so wrong?"

Harry had not dreamed he would be at a loss for words.

He had expected malice, not the reasoned argument of someone who had thought a lot on this subject. He had certainly not expected an explanation, however small, of Malfoy's motives.

Lupin's suggestion had seemed so reasonable and good. Harry hadn't thought much about the consequences.

But now... He recalled Hagrid's words, back when he was eleven.

We're best left alone.

The picture of wizards' bones being broken... the bitterness behind Malfoy's words and the realisation of the fear behind the hatred those pureblood families felt, with the dark history being passed down the generations.

Harry didn't agree, but he would have found it terribly difficult to argue.

He found himself... respecting Malfoy's point of view, which was perhaps the most unexpected thing of all.

He clung to one certainty.

"She's a good person," he insisted. "You have no right to fling foul insults at her."

"She started it," Malfoy defended himself.

Harry leaned back against the wall beside Malfoy, their shoulders touching. He felt somehow devoid of rancour.

"Don't pretend this is the first time."

"She started it the first time, too," Malfoy said darkly. "Saying I bought my way onto the team."

"Didn't you?" Harry asked, more in a spirit of curiosity than accusation.

"No, I bloody well didn't, Potter! I participated in perfectly normal try-outs after Terence Higgs quit. After I got the position, my father bought the brooms. My father didn't reward people until they showed themselves worthy."

"Look-" Harry decided to leave the question of Lucius Malfoy severely alone. "You know what that word means to everyone in there. It's the way Death Eaters talk, and it's a disgusting word to apply to someone who is honestly decent and kind. There's no reason to use it just to upset her. It's petty, it's childish and it's cruel."

"Cruelty is under-rated, you know."

Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who shrugged and smiled. The fierce surge of rage that had made him slam Malfoy up against a wall and shout had faded.

It was so bizarre, that Malfoy could make him that angry and then somehow be the one who could calm him down this fast.

"Come on, Malfoy."

Malfoy shrugged uncomfortably and looked away.

"Suppose I admitted you have a point. Would you do the same?" he asked at last.

"What do you mean?"

Harry was intrigued. This was becoming a not-uncommon feeling around Malfoy.

"I mean... I'll think about what you said. And you should think about what I said."

"Just think?"

"Certainly. It's beneath my dignity as a Malfoy to bargain." Malfoy smiled suddenly, that rather impish smirk which was less malicious than usual, and which Harry was getting used to. "Bribery is quite another matter."

Harry considered, and then smiled back.

"All right then. It's a - deal."

As they returned by silent but mutual consent to the meeting room, Harry added:

"You do realise that I will fight you if you call Hermione that again."

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow. "I look forward to taking you down."

The Young Order looked stunned to see Malfoy and Harry returning, both apparently unharmed and in good humour.

Hermione poked Harry suspiciously in the side, apparently checking for internal damage.

Harry was amused to note Pansy Parkinson doing the same across the table.

Malfoy glanced over, and they shared a small rueful smile.

Ginny Weasley glared at Malfoy as if she thought he had performed a quick Imperius.

"Could we have the vote now?" inquired Professor Lupin wryly, choosing to be judiciously blind about the entire affair.

Harry thought about it. Malfoy had had a very valid point about this motion...

He voted against it.

Now most of the room looked as if they thought Malfoy had performed a quick Imperius.

"And the motion is lost by one vote," Lupin observed in his neutral tones.

"Hard luck," Malfoy told Hermione in his gloating manner... and the whole room winced apprehensively as he opened his lips to add another word.

What he said, in thoughtful tones, was "Granger."

Now the whole room looked nonplussed. Many people looked intensely relieved when Lupin broke up the meeting, and as the Young Order filed out the gossip was already rising behind the door.

*

The Young Council stayed behind for Lupin's last words.

"Young Councillors," Lupin said, his voice graver now that the last members of the Order had left, "We all know that times are dark. You are in a sense responsible for your fellow students, without being able to protect them completely. Now is not the time for house rivalries or personal dissent. I am putting you all in charge of the practice drills. I want to see all of you working in amicable co-operation."

Harry looked around the table as Lupin spoke.

Hermione's dark intelligent eyes glowed beside him. The round fearful face of Hannah Abbott and Susan's quivering mouth were set in an effort at bravery. Terry Boot and Padma Patil appeared anxious. Blaise Zabini's dark cunning face wore a serious expression for once.

All of them were joined in a sense of grave unity. All of them, in this moment, seemed trustworthy.

Malfoy had tipped back his chair and was smiling a rakish and distinctly unreliable smile. He looked bright and carefree and somewhat evil.

Harry shared that smile, just a little, like a whispered exchange of secrets.

I'll think about what you said. And you should think about what I said.

Well. Harry was thinking.

"Just try to be friendly," Lupin urged.

"I'll try," said a sudden cheerful voice. Harry was surprised to realise it was his.

Malfoy yawned and stretched. "Oh, why not?"

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws