Slytherin Squad started off in their Training Room again today. Ginny headed straight over, determined to show them she was good, prove that she could handle—

The training room was empty. She took a few steps inside, hearing the muted click of her own boots echo off the walls. Wait, not completely empty. Malfoy lounged in one of the thick comfy chairs scattered throughout the walkway area.

“Weasley,” he drawled. “Good to see you’re prompt, if still here.”

“Malfoy,” she returned icily.

Silence. She stood there awkwardly, desperately trying to find anything to look at to keep from remembering that the ever annoying Malfoy was a mere 20ft away.

The door burst open, dumping the exuberant boy from the day before into the Training Room. “Good morning, Draco!”

“Theo,” his Captain replied cooly. Apparently used to such a greeting, Theo sauntered over to the lounge chairs. Only the sounds of his newspaper pages rustling broke the heavy silence.

Ginny stood awkwardly. Malfoy continued to ignore her, silently continuing his work on his clipboard.

“Is...there anything I can do to help?” she volunteered hesitantly.

Malfoy looked up, his icy gaze boring into her. “Are you familiar with the team roster?”

Ginny winced. “No.”

“Can you fill out any of their forms?”

“No.”

“Can you make tea?”

She couldn’t have heard that right. “Excuse me?”

Malfoy shrugged. “Theo usually does it, but as he seems hard at work…” The boy in question had located the comics section of the paper. Every few seconds, a giggle issued from him. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Ginny. “Unless you have something better to do?”

Of course Malfoy would have his Lieutenant do the work of a House Elf. Silently fuming but not about to let him see it, she strode out of the Training Room.

Finally. Draco closed his eyes, tipping his head back on top of the armchair. Peace and quiet. The Weasel was gone, at least temporarily. Usually, he didn’t even get his tea till mid-morning, but being a Captain had its advantages.

His throat closed for a second against the memory. If he could be half so good a captain as Richard… A clench of his jaw brought reality rolling back in. Everyone was prejudiced in their own way. If anyone ever wondered why Slytherin Squad spent so much more time than other squads training, well, that was why. Other squads got to do things, go on missions.

Draco chuckled dryly. The one mission they’d gotten had been funny, at best. Poor Richard. A simple rogue spell decimated the team, the surrounding property, and nearly killed Goyle. No one ever wondered why they hadn’t gotten a second one.

What a glorious first mission, Draco remembered sarcastically.

The door to the Training Room opened. Without saying a word, Weasley deposited the steaming cup on the table next to him, retreating toward the spell-proof glass into the battle zone.

He looked down at the cup, surprised she’d even done it, let alone without complaining. Cautiously, Draco took a sip. And nearly choked. It was incredible! Before she could reach the glass, he called out, “What did you do to my tea, Weasley?”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t like it, go make your own.”

“And if I command you to make more? I am your Captain, like it or not. And insubordination is not looked upon lightly in the Aurors.”

“Then I report your megalomaniacal ways to Hermione.”

He smirked unpleasantly. “And then you’d be out of your field job. I hear there’s an opening with the Instructors.” He faked astonishment. “Oh, that’s right. That’s your spot that’s still vacant. I doubt they’d let an able-bodied Auror stand idly by, especially one with such excellent Instructing experience.”

Draco could see as she struggled through her temper, jaw clenched so hard he wondered how long it would take to crack.

“Fine,” she snapped, still struggling. “How would you like the new tea, oh Captain?”

He took his time responding. Swirling the tea, he tapped the spoon against the cup. Sipping slowly, he savored the wonderful flavor almost as much as the priceless look on Weasley’s face. Draco placed the cup deliberately on the table. “It’ll do.”

That was the last straw. “After all this—!” She lost it and stormed into the glass room mid-sentence.

The sound of the practice targets blasting to smithereens followed a few seconds later.

Draco chuckled to himself, sipping at his delicious tea. Some things, he noted sagely, one could get used to. And a Lieutenant with such an entertaining temper… Well, that might be one of them.

A desk warrior or a despotic Captain? The longer she stayed with the Slytherin Squad, the better that desk looked. Slowly, the team trickled into the lounge. Even through the glass Ginny could hear the friends chatting easily back and forth.

Daphne pushed open the glass doors, making a face when she spotted Ginny. “Oh. You’re still here.”

That was the last straw. An idea hit Ginny, and she marched out past Daphne. Malfoy grinned at something Blaise had said, but she couldn’t care less that she was interrupting. “Malfoy?”

He spun, surprised at being addressed by her.

“I’m assuming you don’t need me for any of today’s plans?”

The blond chuckled. “Very astute observation, Weasley.”

“Then I have business of my own to attend to,” she replied, striding out of the Training Room. Safely away from Slytherin eyes, Ginny let herself grin. Malfoy had no idea what he was in for.

Hours later, Draco sat in his office, grateful for the peace and quiet from a long day. The scrimmage, as usual, ended with injuries. Luckily it was only Goyle and Warrington, but he’d dismissed the rest of the team early regardless.

The knock at the door of his office rudely interrupted Draco. “What do you want?” he snapped, not bothering to look up.

“How did you know it was me?” Weasley asked, pushing open the door.

He sighed. “No one else would bother to knock.” She giggled without explaining. Draco rolled his eyes. “Find something amusing?”

Her grin was practically audible. “I assumed the same thing with Minister Shacklebolt.”

Draco masked his surprise well. Merlin, he hadn’t even considered that! “Figures, a Weasley having such poor manners.”

“Poor manners! Who are you, Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows?”

“Did you come in here to do more than nag me about my manners? Because, really, one mother is enough.”

He did look up, then, and the sight was well worth the wait. Weasley’s face twitched with barely suppressed rage. Something that had once been a paper crumpled in her clenched fist. “Malfoy--!” she started, then cut off in restraint. “If I could--!” No more luck with the second attempt.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, enjoying her fury far more than any sane man should.

A few calming breaths later, she tried again. “I came in here with a mission for this ridiculous squad. I hand-picked one they could probably handle, and wouldn’t mutiny over.” Her eyes stared hexes down at him. “But apparently, it’s their Captain I should have been worrying about.” She turned on her heel. “Good luck with the squad. Mark me ‘present and attending’ for the rest of the month, and we’re done.”

A mission. Draco’s brain lagged hideously behind his gaping mouth. As she yanked the door open, he called, “Wait!”

Weasley turned, glaring at him over her shoulder.

No words of wisdom stumbled into his head.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Unbelievable.” His chance at doing anything with the rest of his life waved him a cheery goodbye and fluttered out alongside Auror Weasley. The slam of his office door sent a much-needed jolt to his brain.

Draco jumped up, racing to fling the door open. “Weasley, I’m sorry!”

She stopped dead in her tracks. Barely turning her head to see him, she said, “Do my ears deceive me? I could have sworn I just heard a Malfoy apologize.”

Draco winced. It took concerted effort, but he managed it a second time. “What I said was uncalled for.” She waited for him to continue, but his pride already smarted enough.

Ginny sighed dramatically. “Bribery creates the most-heartfelt of feelings.” Her angry eyes pinned him like a bug. “No more belittling, no more treating me like a second-class lieutenant. No more making tea. No more paperwork.”

He couldn’t stop the pained gasp in time. “But... but…“ Impassively, she waited for him to finish. “What’s the mission?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Yaxley’s going to trial, and he needs an Auror guard. Good enough for you, oh Captain?”

Yaxley? Most of the squad knew him personally. No doubt, it was a good mission, but with an insanely high risk factor. “He’ll try to break out, with us guarding him!”

The girl grinned devilishly. “I’m counting on it.”

Draco’s stomach dropped out the bottom of his chest. Insane? Insanely brilliant! “You’re assuming no one will, you know…help him.”

Her eyes narrowed further. “I was told these were reformed Death Eaters. If that’s wrong…?”

“No, no!” Draco instantly protested. “That won’t be a problem!” A light sweat broke out. Not her problem, at least.

“No more being unnecessarily rude, tea, or paperwork,” Weasley reminded him impatiently.

“Not paperwork. If I have to do it, so do you.” His own words shocked him. He hadn’t meant to sound so…fair.

Grudgingly, Weasley nodded. “Close enough.” She handed him the crumpled sheet. “Tomorrow at three.”

He could barely believe the beautiful sheet in his hands. Combat could wait for another day. This was a real mission, and a pretty damn good one at that. “For the record,” his mouth blurted before he could stop it, “I doubt you could be much worse at this kind of extortion.”

She stepped up to him, nearly toe-to-toe, forcing him to look up at her. “I’m here for one reason—to lend political credence to your joke of a squad. You’re the fool if you think this is the best the sister of the Dark Wizard Duelist, ex-girlfriend of the Boy Who Lived, and best friend of the Head of the DMLE can do.”

“Ooh, riding off everyone else’s coattails. How talented,” Draco drawled. Quickly, he tacked on, “I only agreed to unnecessary rudeness.”

Except for a hard blink, her face remained impassive. Her control impressed him. With a sickly sweet smile, she replied, "Don't be bitter because all your contacts are behind bars. The game's politics, and I'm playing it. I didn't think my actual credentials mattered one whit to you."

Draco gave her a wolfish smile. "You're right. A flobberworm could do your job, so long as its last name was Weasley."

She sighed dramatically. "But alas! The poor worm lacks the skill to check the 'Fit for Leadership' box on your evaluation form." She spun on her heel, heading back out the door. "See you tomorrow, Malfoy!"

"They always call us 'Reformed Slytherins and Death Eaters', but I really don't understand what a Slytherin should be reforming from in the first place. Ambition?" Blaise drawled, sipping his firewhiskey. Daphne and he shared the love of this bar, and, as usual, were each other's wingmen. As of recently, both had become more and more unsuccessful at picking up dates. Neither of them seemed to mind.

Daphne snorted. "It's shorter than Reformed People Who Would Have Become Death-Eaters Eventually."

Blaise looked at her sideways. "Would you?"

Daphne shrugged. "My father was forced to. Thankfully, that was common knowledge. I know Astoria would have, with enough pressure. You?"

Blaise took a sip of his drink to buy time. "I'm not too fond of being branded like cattle."

She smirked. "Always the looks, with you."

About to protest that she'd missed the point, the crack of apparition split the air. Draco frantically searched the crowd.

Blaise waved a hand lazily in the air. "Oy, mate, over here!"

Draco shoved his way over, sizing the two of them up. "Are you drunk already?"

Blaise grinned. "The night is still young, my friend!"

Draco paused. "That's a 'no'?"

"We're not alcoholics!" Daphne protested.

Draco raised an eyebrow at their lovingly straightforward responses. "Still not a 'no'. But I'll take it, because tomorrow, we have a mission."

About to take a sip, Blaise instead gracefully spluttered it down his shirt. "A what?!"

"Yaxley's on trial, and we're escorting him."

Daphne learned from Blaise’s example, setting her glass down hard on the table. She whistled in appreciation. "Weasley must have worked her ass off to get this."

Draco scowled at the instant assumption. "What makes you say that?"

She shrugged. "I've only heard her brother the Weasel King gloat about Yaxley’s sentencing about a million times. He’s been hunting him for months."

Draco's scowl deepened. "Weasleys aside," he re-directed the conversation, "Someone on the team is inevitably going to break him out. You know I'm right."

Blaise nodded, seeing it all play out in his mind. Quite a few were notoriously volatile and irrational. They'd free Yaxley, all right, and to hell with the consequences. "You need a plan of attack? Prevention or containment?"

"Anything. I don't have any brilliant ideas, or I wouldn't be here asking." The blond's mouth pulled into a taut line. "If our Weasley even catches on to a hint, we're done for."

Blaise sat stumped. There were nine others on the squad, sure, but most of them barely cared, and would applaud, if not help. Counting those he could depend on left him with Draco, Daphne, himself...and Goyle. Fantastic.

"I have an idea," Daphne sang, a delightfully devious glimmer in her eye.