Disclaimer: Thanks to J K Rowling for lending me her characters.

Author's Note: Hey guys, this is my first chap fic! So bear with me, and review if you feel like it! I plan to (hopefully) finish this one by the time summer ends, so you won't be waiting around forever for updates that never come.

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"You have a lot of nerve showing your face here after what you've done."

Harry had never heard McGonagall's voice so low and menacing before. His interest was immediately drawn to the door, where she had gone to let in whom she had thought was Tonks. The kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place was suddenly very quiet, as everyone attempted to listen in.

"You know as well as I do, Minerva, that Albus and I made arrangements for such a situation. I was simply following orders," Snape explained slowly, as though speaking to a small child.

"Perhaps, Severus. But you put us all in grave danger by bringing him! Could you really be so careless?" Her voice was rising.

"I was acting on Dumbledore's orders then, and I continue to do so now. The boy is to be under the protection of the Order."

"Absolutely not! Your loyalty cannot be taken for granted after what you've done. He will feed us to You-Know-Who in an instant!"

Draco stood behind Professor Snape, shocked and frightened by the look of fury on McGonagall's face. He had never seen his professor so angry, and to think that it was because she didn't trust him? Because she thought he could put her in danger? The feeling was absolutely bizarre.

Snape had warned him not to expect much hospitality. After casting the killing curse and dragging Draco with him as he fled Hogwarts grounds, Snape had sat the boy down and explained everything. Draco was already in shock from seeing a murder right before his eyes, and the sudden mind-blowing news was nearly unbearable. Snape, on the light side? A spy for the Order of the Pheonix? His father's friend, betraying the Dark Lord? Draco knew first hand what Voldemort was like, and, aside from absolute, world-shattering shock, all Draco could feel was admiration. The Dark Lord was fucking scary, and messing with him was a suicide mission. Snape must be a bloody occlumency beast.

When Snape explained Dumbledore's plan for Draco to be protected by the Order, Draco was caught between guilt and resentment. He was going to kill this man who seemed to actually care for his well-being. At the same time though, the presumptive old man had assumed that Draco would fail. He just assumed that he was weak, was a coward, couldn't do it. The headmaster's complete lack of faith in him was entirely insulting, no matter how insignificant Dumbledore's opinion might be.

And then there was the fact that he was going to be under the protection of the Order. The little band of do-gooders who cared about muggles and mudbloods and just wanted to love thy neighbor? Gross. He couldn't stand the idea of how smug Potter would be, or how good it would make Granger feel about herself, to be showing him bloody compassion.

Unfortunately, it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. As repulsed as he was by the idea of the Order, Draco knew that any other plan would end with his rapid and painful death. In fact, this plan could soon end that way as well – who, in the Order, would really stop Potter from mauling him in his sleep? With Dumbledore gone, what was left to protect the Order from the Dark Lord? Potter? Please. Draco trusted Professor Snape, though. If Snape thought this was the best plan, then it must be. He could not believe that his life was in the Potty twat's hands.

It had taken them several days to reach the Order's hideout. Most of the journey had been made on foot, travelling only at night, through woods and back alleys. They had occasionally apparated, Snape bringing Draco through side-along, but when they did so, they apparated to several places in rapid succession so as to throw off any followers. The first time they did this, Draco found himself spewing his meager dinner all over the ground. It was not a pleasant memory.

Tonight, when they had reached the edge of Grimmauld Place, Snape had turned to Draco and warned him, once again, that their reception would be less than warm and welcoming. He was so right. Draco was suddenly very afraid that they wouldn't take him at all – what would he do then? They hadn't discussed back up plans. Perhaps there were none? Shit shit shit.

Draco fucking hated the Dark Lord. Now, thanks to him, Draco had stooped far lower than any Malfoy in seven centuries.

"And to think I held you in such high regard, Minerva." Severus drawled. "Trust me, or don't. Give me fucking veritaserum if you must! The boy stays."

Draco thanked whichever deity was listening that he had Snape with him. He didn't know too many people who would stand up to McGonagall like this.

"He most certainly does not! Leave this instant, Severus, or I'll – "

"I will not allow him to be fed to the blood-crazed Death Eaters!"

Oh God, please, no. Draco could almost feel himself being surrounded by Death Eaters, his Aunt Bella casting the cruciatus…

"Then take him elsewhere! We cannot afford such risks at the moment – "

"The boy stays."

McGonagall spun around in shock. Sirius Black stood at the entrance to the corridor, looking intently into the frightened gray eyes of Draco Malfoy.

Draco couldn't look away from the intense gaze of the dark man. It was pointed, calculating, evaluating, but there was also something soft in the stare. Was that pity? Draco hoped not, but knew he was in no position to protest.

McGonagall scoffed, then began impatiently, "As much as I appreciate your input, Sirius, this is not your decision to make. Dumbledore left me in charge of the Order, and as such – "

Sirius glowered at her before interrupting loudly. "It's my fucking house, Minerva! If he won't be accepted by the Order, then he's my personal guest. If you're really so afraid of a 16-year-old kid, then you can find a new fucking headquarters for all I care!"

McGonagall's face paled with fury, her lips pressed tightly together in a livid line. Snape, on the other hand, looked calmly at Sirius. The two enemies shared a moment of eye contact, and Snape gave an almost imperceptible nod of gratitude. He might hate the ex-con, but if Sirius would take Draco under his wing, Snape would be able to focus on his own survival without worrying about the boy. Black was arrogant and obnoxious, but he was a capable wizard. Perfect, actually, for watching Draco, as neither would be leaving the house any time in the near future.

"Come," Sirius spoke now to Draco, who was frozen in place. Draco blinked, and then walked quickly to the unfamiliar man who had stood up for him.

Sirius reached out instinctively to grip Draco's shoulder, but Malfoy jerked his shoulder away, treating Sirius to a scathing glare. Sirius rolled his eyes. McGonagall crossed her arms with a huff, and Snape simply watched through narrowed eyes as the odd pair entered the kitchen.

There they were met with gasps and the scraping of chairs as Harry and Ron immediately stood, furiously pointing their wands at Draco. "Stop right there you murderous son of a bitch! After what you've done – "

"Sit down! And put your bloody wands away this instant!"

Harry was stunned. Never before had Sirius raised his voice to him, let alone in defense of Draco Malfoy. Sirius sensed the hurt in Harry's eyes, and sighed, his face softening. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, Harry."

Harry regained some of his courage, and tried again. "But Sirius, that's Draco Malfoy! Don't you know what he's done?"

"I know exactly what he's done, Harry." Sirius looked up, and addressed the whole room coldly. "And I'll thank you all to stop assuming that I'm an idiot. I know exactly what I'm doing."

Malfoy took that as his cue to sneer at them all haughtily from his place behind Sirius. He looked from Potty, to Weasel, and finally to Mudblood Granger. Apart from fury, Draco was thrilled to see a bit of fear in the boys' eyes, and he took the hurt in Potter's eyes as a personal victory. The look in Granger's eyes, however, was unacceptable. That soft look in the dark man's eyes was present in hers as well, only this time it was the dominant emotion portrayed. She pitied him. Fuck. Draco was utterly disgusted – the stupid bitch was going to be so proud of herself. She probably got off on being the better person. Pitying him, the evil bastard who had tortured her for six years, must be fucking orgasmic.

Before the pair could leave the kitchen, Remus caught Sirius's eye. The air around Sirius was practically humming from his obvious frustration. The two friends exchanged a wordless conversation. Sirius stared into the hazel eyes of his friend imploringly, but Remus could see the determination behind the plea. If Remus wouldn't back him up, Sirius would continue anyway – but it was clear that a little support would be very appreciated. Remus gave a sympathetic look and half a smile. Sirius blinked his thanks for his friend's support, and left the kitchen without another word as Remus went to soothe Harry and Ron.

Draco followed the man up a dark, spiraling staircase, down a dark, creaky corridor into a small room. A single candle lit upon their entrance, and Draco could see a dusty bed in the corner, a grimy window, and dark green, peeling wallpaper; he wrinkled his nose as he surveyed their surroundings. Sirius closed the door behind them, and sighed.

"Stay here for now. I don't think it would be safe for you to come downstairs just yet. I will bring you dinner in a bit."

Draco took the opportunity to study the strange man on whose compassion, it seemed, his life depended. His hair was black and glossy, coming down to his shoulders. He was tall and lean, with a rangy build and an easy grace that was familiar to Draco. The skin on his face was beaten and weatherworn, but he had striking black eyes and a noble bone structure. Draco knew a pureblood when he saw one.

Draco cleared his throat – making a noise for the first time since entering the house.

Sirius looked at him, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Professor McGonagall called you 'Sirius'," Draco began, "Am I to presume that you are… er…"

Sirius smiled a little, and leaned back against the doorframe. "Yes, Draco. Sirius Black. Your mother's cousin, actually."

"And this," Draco sniffed, "place, is – "

"Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The ancestral home of the noble House of Black." There was a sneer in his voice as he looked around the room, shaking his head.

Draco silently looked around the room in wonder. The Blacks were an ancient family, like the Malfoys: one whose blood ran through his veins. He had thought that the line of Blacks had ended, and that he, as Narcissa Black's son, would soon be the only one left to carry on their blood, if not their name. But Sirius Black was still alive! Something clicked in Draco's mind, and he looked up at Sirius once more.

"So, when Aunt Bella was going on about her traitorous bastard of a cousin…?"

Sirius actually chuckled a little at that. "Probably me, yes."

The boy was fascinating to Sirius; he was so clearly Lucius's son. Sirius found himself reliving his years at Hogwarts, teasing Lucius and paying dearly for every jab. But he also saw a bit of Narcissa, even a bit of himself. They shared the same elegant cheekbones. Weird.

As much as Draco resembled his father at the same age, the eyes staring back at him were so different. Lucius had always been so sure of himself, confidence oozing from every glare. Draco's eyes told a different story. There was arrogance, of course, but the confidence was absent. Instead he saw fear, incredulity, confusion and, above all, bitterness. Those eyes had seen far more than his father's had at sixteen.

A minute or two passed in silence, each of them curiously eyeing the other, before Sirius cleared his throat, and stood straight once more. "I better head downstairs. I will return in a few hours time. You should probably get some sleep."

"Right." Draco looked at the dusty bed doubtfully.

Sirius opened the door to exit, when Draco spoke up again. "Black?"

Sirius turned to look at the blond boy.

Draco swallowed and stared at the air above Sirius's head. "Your," he searched for the correct word, "hospitality, is appreciated." Thankyous over with, Draco met Sirius's eyes once again. Draco exhibited his incredible ability to look down his nose at people, even when said person is much taller than he is.

"No problem, kid." And with that, Sirius left the room and headed back downstairs. He missed the look of repulsion on Draco's face at his choice of endearment.

When Sirius entered the kitchen, the anxious whispers suddenly died and all eyes turned to him. McGonagall spoke up first. "Sirius, I really think we should give this a bit more consideration. I know why you're doing this, but I really think the situation is completely different!"

Sirius sat down at the table next to Remus, who gave his friend's arm a quick squeeze. Sirius turned to him, eternally grateful for his understanding. He swallowed, and turned back to McGonagall.

"You were there, Minerva. Surely you remember how messed up I was when I made the decision to turn my back on the Blacks? If the Potters hadn't been so completely wonderful to me, taking me in as their own, I probably would have gone crazy with confusion or killed myself out of guilt! And I was dealing with the Blacks. Imagine leaving the Malfoys! The poor kid's gotta be seriously fucked up right now. And you lot want to turn him out in the cold! I promise you, he'd be dead by sunrise."

The room was silent once more. Harry didn't know what to think – Sirius had never talked about that part of his life, and Harry had never considered that it had been hard for him. He had always assumed that it had been like leaving the Dursleys – easy and painless, a cause for celebration.

Harry could almost feel the strength of the bond between Lupin and Sirius as they looked at each other now, and he understood that. When people went through serious shit together, they tended to come out of it bonded for life. He looked at Ron and Hermione, surprised to see tears in Hermione's eyes, fixed as they were on Sirius. Harry guessed she had never considered Sirius's emotional struggle either.

Someone sighed, and all eyes looked up at Minerva McGonagall as she spoke up once more. "Sirius. I understand. I do. But this situation is different. You were James Potter's best friend and had always been on the light side. Draco Malfoy is not just a Death Eater's son – he is a Death Eater. He was working for Voldemort for almost a year. We cannot just trust that his loyalties have suddenly switched, and forgive him so easily for his wrong doings!"

"And so you want to let Voldemort kill him? He's a fucking dickwad – but he's only sixteen! What would Molly say if I told her you all threw a cold and hungry boy out onto the streets? She'll get here soon, and she'll support my decision."

To everyone's surprise, Ron spoke up, albeit a bit timidly. "I don't know about that, Sirius. Mum knows Malfoy's tortured us from the moment we started school. I don't think she'd be quite as forgiving as you think…"

Sirius smiled a little at Ron and answered, "Are you kidding? When she saw how thin and pale he was, she'd be shoving stew down his throat whether he liked it or not."

The tension in the room broken a little, Hermione stood up and suggested that they all start on dinner. Lupin and McGonagall stood to help her with the cooking, and Ron turned to talk to Harry. Harry gave him an apologetic look before glancing at Sirius, and Ron got the picture. He grumbled a little and headed off to help out the folks in the kitchen.

Snape had left long ago, so that left only Harry and Sirius in the kitchen together. Sirius turned to Harry. "I know you're upset with me. I know you hate him, Harry, and you have every reason to feel that way. I shouldn't have yelled at you before – you have no reason to understand my decision."

"There's just one thing I don't understand, Sirius." Harry looked up into the sad black eyes of his godfather. "My grandparents took you in because you were my father's best friend. Malfoy is not my best friend! In fact, he's up there with Voldemort on the list of people I loathe. He doesn't deserve your pity!"

Sirius shook his head at Harry. "You've had it tough, Harry, in ways I can't even imagine. But the ferret's had it tough too. You can't remember your parents, but you know that they loved you. Imagine, if they had been alive all this time, teaching you that muggleborns are equal to any other magical folk. And then, imagine that you discovered otherwise. Your world would be totally blown to pieces, and you would be torn between your parents, everything you've ever known, and the new truth that you can't make yourself forget. Even I can't completely understand – I knew from early on that my parents' pureblood stuff was bullshit. But if anyone has a chance of helping him get through this, it's me."

Harry nodded. "Sirius – you never told me about that part of your life. I, I didn't know it was so hard for you…"

Sirius genuinely smiled at Harry now. "Harry, Harry, don't pity me. Your life is already full of darkness and distress – I couldn't responsibly dump any more on you, now could I?"

And so Harry embraced his godfather, and they switched their conversation to lighter topics. Food was soon brought to the table, and cheerful chatter filled the air as warm food filled their stomachs. When the meal was over, Lupin and McGonagall went to clean up as Harry, Ron and Hermione wandered off to go play Exploding Snap. The rest of the Weasleys would arrive soon, but until then, everyone was content to ignore the fact that Draco Malfoy was upstairs.

After Sirius left him, Draco studied the dingy room he was in. He was intrigued by a fine silver design that covered one wall, and went closer to study it. To his surprise, Draco found a family tree, dating back to the Middle Ages. After a few minutes' perusal, he found his mother and his Aunt Bellatrix. A little further to the right, he found a scorch mark where he was pretty sure Sirius's name had once been. Not really surprised, Draco mulled quietly over how his parents would react when they found out where he was.

Lucius, of course, would be furious. Draco would almost rather face the Dark Lord than his father. Not only had he proven himself to be of a weaker constitution than his bloodthirsty father, Draco had failed the Dark Lord, and dishonored his family. If Draco fell into Lucius's hands, there would be no mercy. Death would come, but only after a series of long and excruciating tortures.

All his life, Draco had strived for Lucius's approval. A simple nod from his father after watching him fly around in circles on his toy broom had been enough to send five-year-old Draco into a frenzy of joy. He had nearly hugged his father on that occasion. A sharp rejection and reprimand had quickly ensured that he would never have such an inclination again.

In his first year at Hogwarts, Draco had been excited to return home for the holidays, eagerly anticipating a nod of approval for his stellar grades. Lucius may as well have smacked Draco across the face with his ebony cane; the pain would have been preferable to the humiliation when Lucius had torn the letter containing his grades in two and tossed it into the fire. "No son of mine", he said, "is outscored by a mudblood at a school for magic."

Draco remembered listening from the stairs as Narcissa tried to talk to Lucius that night. She scolded him for being too rough on his son, and proclaimed that she was incredibly proud of him for all his hard work and excellent marks. As much as Draco appreciated her efforts with Lucius, Narcissa's approval meant next to nothing to him. If his father was not impressed, than anyone who was must be soft in the head.

Narcissa had continued to fight for him, even on the night that Draco was to receive the dark mark. "At least let him finish school first!" She had begged, "He has so much potential!" Draco now felt a twinge of regret. He had scolded his mother for her request, accusing her of not honoring the Dark Lord as she should. Draco had always been cold to his mother after such incidences, and yet she continued, always, to fight for him.

She was probably so worried about him right now. If he could find her, she would certainly take him in, comfort him, tell him she was proud. But then Lucius would kill them both. It was best not to think of her at all.

Soon, Draco gave in to his exhaustion. He removed his cloak and spread it over the covers on the dusty bed, preferring not to come into physical contact with the possibly vermin infested bed. He listened to conversation downstairs, knowing that it probably concerned him. He was instinctively nervous, knowing that at any moment he could be at the mercy of the elements and the Dark Lord himself. Draco tried, but he couldn't make out what was being said downstairs, and so drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

He awoke with a start to a hand on his shoulder. Draco's hand dove instinctively to the pocket in his robes, where he found, to his dismay, no wand. He had been without a wand since the night on the tower, and he hadn't been able to shake the awful helpless feeling since then.

Draco calmed down soon enough, seeing the so-far non-threatening figure of Sirius Black standing next to the bed, a tray of food in his hands. Draco's stomach growled. He shook the hand off his shoulder, and Sirius handed him the tray.

The only sound in the room was Draco's voracious chewing of the much-appreciated dinner, though you'd never know it for the look of disdain permanently etched on his face. Sirius watched quietly from the corner, where he leaned against the wall.

Sirius looked at him, studying his face. He then noted the dark mark, exposed on the boy's left arm by his rolled up sleeve. Sirius looked into Draco's eyes sternly.

"I put my head on the chopping block for you; you better not be working for Voldemort."

Draco's eyebrows came together on his forehead and he scoffed. "Please. After my epic failure? I'm still alive, aren't I? The Dark Lord is not quite so forgiving."

Sirius was somewhat surprised. He shouldn't have been, of course. It made sense. "Hm. I would have assumed your parents would take care of that."

Draco went quiet for a minute, considering this. "I don't believe my mother would actually dispose of her precious son."

"Lucius?"

Draco didn't answer. He just raised an eyebrow and looked up into Sirius's eyes, which were glinting with hate. He looked dangerous, Draco noted.

Sirius took his silence as a confirmation. He sighed. "My parent's were none to pleased when I left them for the Potters. My mum wasted no time in forgetting that I ever existed."

Draco's eyes went to the scorch mark on the family tree. "Is she the one who blasted you off the tree?"

Sirius sniffed, then nodded, shrugging. "Yup. She was quite the gem, my darling mother."

He remembered the day he left, his mother shrieking at the top of her lungs. He was a traitor, she had known all along; he was a failure of a Black, an embarrassment to the family. She had commanded him to stay, and then ordered that he leave, claiming that he was turning his back on his family, and then shouting that he had never been a Black at all. She had blasted him off of the family tree during one of her "you never were a Black" swings, in a fiery display of purple flame. As determined as he was to leave, teenaged Sirius had never been so hurt as he was when she did that. That moment of being disowned by his own mother was forever seared into his memory, and his heart. From that point on, he had never said a kind thing about his mother. The evil bitch deserved everything she got.

Sirius looked over at Draco, whose face had lost its customary sneer and gone sort of, well, blank. His Arrogance seemed almost sad all of a sudden. Sirius guessed that the boy was thinking of his own mother, and he felt a pulse of appreciation for Narcissa. He gathered, by the look on Draco's face, that the boy actually cared for her. She must not have been a terribly awful person after all.

"She probably doesn't care," Draco stated, too matter-of-factly. Sirius wasn't fooled.

"Draco, if you want, I can find a way to send word to Narcissa, tell her that you're safe."

Once again, Draco opted for silence in place of an answer.

"Well, I'll let you think about it."

Draco shook his head, giving Sirius an irritated glare. "I don't need to think about anything, thank you very much. I'm not some stupid six-year-old; I can make my own decisions. You think you know me, think you 'get' my situation. Well I am not your charity case." Draco sneered, "I don't need your fucking pity, filthy blood traitor."

"Oh, really? I couldn't tell! I seem to remember an arrogant, blond fuckwit with his tail between his legs, cowering behind Snape at my doorstep." Sirius was standing up straight now, walking towards Draco, staring him down, all ablaze with dark fire. "And watch who you call traitor – I know plenty of people who would love to wring your traitorous little neck."

Sirius spun on his heel and exited the room, slamming the door hard enough to extinguish the single candle. He was scowling at the floor when he saw a pair of boots and looked up to see Severus standing outside the door. Snape did not cower from Sirius's glare, but rather raised one eyebrow coldly. "Tsk tsk. That doesn't sound like any way to treat houseguests."

Fuming, Sirius leveled the Slytherin head with the same blazing glower he had used on Draco moments before. "Fuck off Snivellus," Sirius snapped as he strode past his childhood enemy, banging his shoulder purposely against Snape's. "And get the fuck out of my face."