A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I know I said it would probably be out before December, and now it is December. I'm terrible. I know. But hopefully this will make up for it :P

That said, I hope you all enjoy this…happy reading! Oh yes, and Draco does appear in this chapter – a lot.

Thanks to my beta-reader Soror Ava for beta-ing for me :P

FABRICATIONS

Chapter 1

"Death-Eaters escape Azkaban," the headlines of the Daily Prophet declared. Harry Potter placed the paper atop his desk and sighed. It was to be expected, especially with the Dementors leaving the wizard prison but that did not make the news any easier to take. Voldemort had his supporters back at his side now. In the light of the recent disappearance of Cornelius Fudge Harry could not help but wonder what else Voldemort had planned. Did he already have an attack ready to be executed once Lucius Malfoy and the other Death-Eaters made their way to him?

The phone rang. Harry ignored it, knowing it could not be for him. He turned his thoughts instead to the disappearance of the Minister of Magic and the wizarding world in general. With no Minister the wizarding world seemed to flail, and with that Dumbledore had stepped in. He'd offered to help and the world had accepted. Two weeks had passed already and Dumbledore had not yet left.

Someone thumped up the stairs. Harry thought it was Uncle Vernon but he could not be sure.

Things had been very different at Number 4, Privet Drive since Harry's return from Hogwarts. Now he was free to do pretty much anything he wanted and the Dursleys hardly ever threatened him. In fact, they were constantly nervous when Harry was around them and seemed just as anxious as Harry for the summer holidays to end. Harry found it easier on everyone, including himself, to stay out of their sight, or the house. Harry couldn't say he particularly enjoyed this new attitude because it was a bit disconcerting at times, but it did mean he could do anything he wanted.

A knock came on the door and Uncle Vernon popped his head in. "Phone call for you," he said gruffly before disappearing down the corridor.

A phone call? For him? Who on earth would want to call him? Harry scrambled out of his chair and out the door, knowing Uncle Vernon was just as surprised as he was.

Harry reached the living room and picked up the receiver. "Hello?" he said tentatively.

"Harry?"

"Mr. Weasley?" Though still puzzled Harry had to admit he welcomed the call. "What – why –?"

"Bad news, Harry. You're not to leave your aunt and uncle's house and wander the streets … You-Know-Who may attack you and even with the surveillance we don't want to risk the chance of him attacking and succeeding."

Letting go of the fact that he was still under surveillance and not being told about it, Harry said, "But you don't know that he's planning on attacking me. Besides, it would be hard for him to sneak up on me with someone watching – whoever it is will be bound to notice something wrong."

"And yet he may not," Mr. Weasley said. "Dumbledore seems to think there's a good chance of You-Know-Who launching an attack, even if he isn't actually one of the attackers. It might even be an attack planned to fail, just to rattle us – but there is a chance the attack could succeed and we don't want to take that chance."

If I'm going to be murdered, Harry thought, it'll be by Voldemort. Of course if I just stood there and let a Death-Eater curse me … "So I have to stay indoors?"

"It's the only place You-Know-Who can't get to you," Mr. Weasley said apologetically. Harry saw Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley peek out from the living room doorway. "That's not to mean you'll have to stay with your aunt and uncle for the entire holidays, Molly and I would love to have you over, that is to say, if you want to –"

"I'd love to," Harry interrupted. "I love going to the Burrow … when can I go?"

"We're still working on that … and Ron would love to have you as well – yes, yes, Ron, all right – Ron wants to speak to you, Harry …"

Harry heard Ron's voice next. He wasn't shouting, but it was still too loud for comfort.

"Ron? You don't have to be so loud, I can hear you fine –"

"Sorry, Harry," Ron sounded much better now. "I keep forgetting … it's weird how you can hear me, we're so far away. Anyway, how have you been?"

"All right, you know …" Harry was not going to mention that Sirius crossed his mind often, or that his godfather's death played in his dreams sometimes. "I can't believe you still remember the phone number I gave you." It seemed so long ago, now.

"Yeah, well, it's not like we could owl you to tell you, could we? It'd probably be intercepted. Then Hermione came up with the brilliant idea for us to use the telephone –"

"Because Voldemort would never think we'd use a Muggle invention," Harry finished for Ron. "Wicked. Does that mean I can call you now, then?"

"Well – er – no. We don't want You-Know-Who to know we're using this so my dad's only using it when we absolutely have to. In fact I can't talk too long and Hermione wants to speak to you, too."

"She's at the Burrow too, then?"

"Only just." Ron added quickly, "We'll get you out of there, Harry, we promise, and you can join us and we'll have some real fun."

"What are you going to use?" Harry asked eagerly. "Floo Powder again?" While it was not his favourite way to travel it was how he'd gone to the Burrow the last time.

"We're not sure yet," Ron responded. "You-Know-Who might be watching the Network but we don't know for sure. I'm sure we'll be able to get you out soon, though."

"I hope so. I don't want to be cooped up here," Harry said. "It's bad enough as it is without having to stay at the house all the time."

"Yeah, I can imagine, mate," Ron said sympathetically. "All right, I'll pass the receiver to Hermione now."

Hermione sounded a bit breathless when she came on the phone but happy nonetheless. "Oh, it's really good to be able to talk to you, Harry …"

"Yeah, that was brilliant to think of using the telephones," Harry smiled. "How's everyone at the Burrow?"

"Oh, we're all doing fine, really … and Crookshanks loves it here, he's chasing all the gnomes, you know how he is. Everyone else says 'hi', by the way –"

"Oh, tell them I say 'hi' back," Harry said, missing the Weasleys and Hermione very much then. They were like family to him; more of a family than the Dursleys had ever been. "Heard anything about the Order?"

"Quite a bit, actually … we'll have to tell you when you get here, though, I can't say anything now," Hermione said.

"Oh, all right, then," Harry was a little disappointed. "Any idea when I'll get there?"

"As soon as we can," Hermione promised. "Look out for us, Harry, it'll be a surprise!"

Draco Malfoy scowled. This was not a good day for him. It had started out badly and was going to get a lot worse.

Morning had brought him a nasty shock – after looking forward to seeing his father again he'd woken up to have his mother tell him he couldn't.

"Why not?" he had demanded, his good spirits dissipating quickly. "He's coming here, isn't he?"

"No, darling, he's not," his mother had said gently. "We can't risk him coming here and being seen harbouring an escaped prisoner from Azkaban."

"Where's he staying, then?" I miss Dad. I hate that he ever set foot in Azkaban. Azkaban, for Merlin's sake!

"With the Dark Lord, but only for a while."

"I want to see him."

"You'll see him when the excitement dies down, when he can come here unwatched and unseen," she told him.

"I want to see him today," Draco said adamantly. "Mum, I haven't seen him for so long!"

"I know, darling, but you can't," she stood up. "You're not going near the Dark Lord, not if I can help it."

"I don't care. I want to see him." Draco was sullen, now.

"No, she said, and Draco knew her answer was final.

Of course, he didn't exactly fancy entering the Dark Lord's stronghold. All the Death-Eaters, and Dementors … and the Dark Lord himself. Draco had never met Voldemort and he hoped he would never do so. If his father wanted to risk his life like that he could but Draco preferred playing his part outside the direct line of danger. Not wanting to enter Voldemort's fortress did not stop him from sulking, however. He did still want to see his father.

It was bad enough knowing his father was in Azkaban, bad enough missing him and not seeing him without this whole 'Dad-can't-be-seen-at-home-because-the-Ministry-might-catch-him-again' business.

Oh, he knew the logic behind it all. He still didn't like it.

His mother had left to see Lucius Malfoy that morning, leaving Draco to his own devices. The sixteen-year-old spent the hours leading up to lunch in a bad mood, the mood worsening with the realisation that there was no one in the house to see him in the bad mood. Dobby had been set free, after all.

And now … indignity! The nerve!

There he'd been, enjoying his lunch (as much as one could when alone and in a foul mood, anyway) when all hell broke loose.

He'd dropped his spoon, of course. Dropped it with surprise and shock as three wizards 'popped' into the room and pointed wands at him – and quite threateningly, too, Draco thought. In any case, after the initial clatter of metal against glass he remained frozen. What was going on?

Then he recognised one of the wizards as an Auror – Kingsley Shacklebolt. With dark skin, a bald head and the silver hoop in his ear, who else could it be? Draco thought he'd seen the other two before but he couldn't place where, or when.

It didn't matter. It was clear, now, what was going on. The indignity of it! To barge in, and point wands at him, as if he were criminal …

Draco quickly composed himself and in place of the shock that had been on his face there was indignation, anger and annoyance. He remembered the arrogance, too.

"What," he said very coldly, "is going on?" It was clear, of course, that he did know exactly what was happening.

The Aurors did not answer immediately. They were looking around the dining room, up at the chandelier, the 19th century dining table, cabinets containing china, wine glasses, goblets and wine bottles, and finally, one of them inspected the curtains. Another looked under the table.

Draco lost his temper – or rather, gave a good impression of it. Ignoring the wand that was still trained on him he stood up. "What is the bloody meaning of this?"

He spotted another Auror through the doorway leading out into the main hallway. Draco strode out of the dining room, his face set in a scowl. Definitely not a good day for him.

"What the hell are you doing here? Invading my privacy, my home … I want you out! Now! Do you hear me?" his voice was raised.

"Calm down, young man," the Auror in the main hallway said. She had a brisk voice and eyes that were hard. "We've received intelligence," her eyes flicked around the hallway, "that escaped convict Lucius Malfoy is here. We're here to find him."

Draco was incensed. Escaped convict … did she have any idea she was speaking so callously to his son? "This is a raid? You're raiding my house?"

"We're looking for an escaped convict," she corrected him. "Who happens to be my father," Draco was very cold.

"Exactly why he should be here," the Auror nodded. "You're family, the only ones willing enough to take him in. Now, it would be a lot easier on all of us if you told us where he is –"

"Well, I don't know where he is," Draco snapped. Did she think he was stupid? Did she think he would actually tell her if he knew? "He's not here. I suggest you leave before my mother gets back."

"Ah, now where is your mother?" she said swiftly. Draco could imagine the clogs moving inside her head; Narcissa Malfoy is with her husband, wherever he is.

"Out," Draco said shortly. He turned round at the other Aurors. "I want you all to leave. This is an invasion of privacy."

"We will leave when we finish our search," the Auror said.

"Finish it now, then, because my father is not here."

The Aurors didn't listen to him, of course. Draco considered throwing a fit but decided against it. Instead, he leaned against the balustrade of the main marble staircase with a scowl on his face, complaining loudly and irritating everyone.

When Narcissa Malfoy returned she was, to say the least, very displeased at the sight of Aurors in the house. They had only been there for ten minutes but already, she claimed, it was much too long a time.

"I am not harbouring my husband here, now leave!"

The Auror Draco had spoken to previously, whom he later learned was Janid Lucer, questioned his mother about her whereabouts.

"If you must know," she sniffed, "I was with a friend."

"Could you give us the name of your friend?"

"Severus Snape," Narcissa snapped. It was the truth, too. Snape had been there with her. "I want you to leave."

They left, eventually. They didn't find Lucius Malfoy, of course, though they did seize a highly suspicious looking vial. It contained, in actual fact, the venom of a highly poisonous snake; a healing ointment if used on the skin but fatal if swallowed. It was also an illegal product. Draco and his mother were not too worried, however; the vial had been taught to disappear if taken outside Malfoy premises, along with its contents.

"How's Dad?" Draco asked the moment it was safe enough to do so.

"Fine," Narcissa Malfoy replied. She shivered. "It's a good thing there were no Dementors in Azkaban … although with them at Casa Serpente –" Casa Serpente was a very old mansion, full of Dark history and perfect as Voldemort's stronghold – "well, I'll be glad when your father gets here."

"When is he getting here? When can I see him?" Draco asked eagerly.

"Not for a while, darling." Draco's face fell. "We can't risk him getting caught again. And you saw the Aurors, they'll be keeping a close watch on us for – well, Merlin knows how long."

"Huh." Draco slumped onto the couch, crossing his arms and looking very moody. "What about that room underneath the drawing room?"

"We need to get your father here without him being seen and right now we can't do that." Mother sat down next to son. "Bear with it for a while, all right darling?"

Draco made a noncommittal noise.

It all came down in the end, he realised, to Potter. Potter and the Order of the Phoenix were what had gotten his father caught and thrown into Azkaban.

Mostly it was Potter's fault, he decided. The guy ruined everything. He constantly humiliated him and beat him at Quidditch and now he was the reason why his father had been imprisoned. He was the reason why Draco was having the worst summer of his life; summer without his father.

Hating Potter was easy; always had been. In the beginning it had been 'I'm supposed to hate him' and now, he truly did. It wasn't hard – when someone kept embarrassing you in public it was easy to form feelings of dislike and hatred.

He could still remember, the week before he'd been due to start at Hogwarts, his father sitting him down and explaining things. Oh, he knew about the spy business, all right. He just didn't know his role in the entire affair.

It was lucky he knew how to act well. If not, the entire plan would have fallen apart by now.

In the long run, Albus Dumbledore would later ponder, maybe it would have been better for everyone if Draco hadn't been able to act, after all.

A/N: Heh. What did you all think? Please review! They're the only way I'll know what you're thinking, and also that people are actually reading this!

So, yeah, if I don't get at least one review, I'm not updating (it's not blackmail, I just need to know at least someone is reading this – otherwise there'd be no point, would there?)

Criticism welcome, of course, I love feedback of any kind.

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