Harry Potter 1. The Summer&its Distractions

**Love's Fallen**

A/N: This little fic takes place at Hogwarts and starts the summer before sixth year. I'm not sure where the it shall end just yet but I've got the general idea. This is my first fan-fiction, so I'd appreciate if you'd review or message me and tell me what you think. All opinions are welcome! Enjoy the story(:

Disclaimer: I wish I was J.K. Rowling

Draco's father was in prison. If Malfoy Senior had been around Draco supposed he would get some Malfoy babble and maybe how his father should sort out his priorities; like perhaps _acquiring a brain. _The absolute joys of the Malfoy way. but of course Draco knew that in ten years he'd be in the same exact position; kissing ass like his father at Lord Voldy's feet. And of course Draco wouldn't have it _any other way._

These were his thoughts three days prior leading up to the first day of break; worries of having to put up with his _batty _old mother his whole holiday ceased to exist in his mind. Now he was on his way there. The place he had never been allowed. It was like he had gone ten years into the future, and he had predicted correctly. Although he hoped that then he'd be able to make his way there with dignity.

Of course Draco really didn't know for sure where he was going. This was because he had been kidnapped from his house -although no one had really tried to stop them- and after being apparated he was dragged down a dark cobbled road leading to Knockturn alley. He would've much rather spent his stay in Diagon Alley, maybe sneak into the Weasel's joke shop when no one was around.

A breeze picked up, and Draco heard a newspaper scuffle off with the wind. A chill ran up his spine.

The night air had gotten crisp, so bitterly cold that Draco Malfoy imagined he could feel it permeating his insides. He thought of icy fingers twisting around his intestines, turning and tangling and yanking. Nothing but blood on the inside, blood and the ugly bits that were his guts, and it would hurt worse than a Cruciatus when it all froze. He knew that for fact. He had seen it once, when he was five, seen life ripping its way from a body, and death was not beautiful. His father had almost proved that to him; his life just waiting to pour out of him, but of course, the Dark Lord let him suffer. _And then the Golden Trio got him thrown into Azkaban._

He was here because Voldemort was upset with his father. Maybe two years prior, he would have gladly taken up the Dark Lord's wishes - impress his father and the whole of the Wizarding world- _he wasn't a bloody eleven year old anymore._

But now he had no choice, and he had the whole of the Malfoy name on his shoulders. His father and his grandfather had spent years edging themselves into the deep cracks of Knockturn Alley and wedging their way into the tightest rings of the Dark Lord's circles. No matter the costs. But now they were back at the bottom of the food chain again.

Draco was being pulled along, down a dark alleyway, around a corner… His captors pulled at his arms so roughly that it burned. He suspected he'd have bruises tomorrow- if he lived until tomorrow. But Draco dared not struggle, that showed cowardice and unfaithfulness in the Dark Lord, something which he was sure they were trying to provoke out of him.

The air blew coolly over his face, and if he hadn't known any better he would have thought it was late winter, the leaves and grass around them were shriveling up and being coated with a thick frost. Draco gasped, but his silent captors just moved him along: they hadn't realized yet. A cry was in Draco's throat, to shout out, to warn them. But it sunk back down into the bowels of his stomach –they wouldn't, would they? The Death Eaters haven't gained that much power yet,- but he was just lying to himself. The dementors were here. Draco hadn't thought he was such a valued item in the Dark Lord's eyes.

Draco felt an odd mixing of a very different array of emotions; fear, honor, and fear again. But mostly surprise! Bloody hell, he never thought he'd get here! Maybe in his wildest dreams, or in his darkest nightmares...

_Fuck,_ he thought about his mother and his father and the whole of the Malfoy's. _He was their last heir! They were going to kill him. They were going to kill him without a second thought._

Or perhaps suck out his soul. Horrid scenes from his deepest night terrors flashed through his mind.

Draco Malfoy was brought back to his days of blissful childhood, and wished he'd saved his last cry over not getting that teddy bear he had wanted for Christmas for this. But he couldn't, not in front of them. That would prove he was weak; _weak like his father. _

Throughout most of his life, Draco had aspired to be just like Lucius Malfoy, but now, at this exact moment he wanted to be nothing but. It was his father's fault he was in this situation, the reason his whole family was. He wouldn't show his fear, he wouldn't show his anger, he would listen calmly to Voldemort, do as he wished, and then hopefully leave with his body whole. _Unless of course they killed him._

After seeing Harry fight off Lord Voldemort for the fourth time in her life, after seeing how so many people were effected by one human being's own troubles, the war had never felt more real to Hermione than ever before. She had read about the first Wizarding World War in many history books, and it had felt like something was brewing, she had memorized the facts and the people killed and captured, she could recite them with confidence when asked. But Hermione couldn't hide behind her books or memorize the facts of what was to come. She couldn't see into the future and tell everyone how many people would die. This was different, and it was no longer in the pages of books, but right there, standing naked in her face; a war, and a deadly one at that, was brewing. Although, what scared her more was that right now, anything could be happening, and she couldn't even bat an eye at it. _She would have no idea._

Hermione had left Harry and Ronald at King's Cross Station with the Dursley's five days ago, and although she was sure Mad Eye had scared some sense into Harry's ludicrous Aunt and Uncle, she was feeling slightly uneasy. This is what she hated most, being in the dark. She hadn't heard from Ron or Harry in days, and both of them could be dead! Hermione had finally decided to take matters into her own hands. And so.

She was headed to the post office in a fury. _How dare Ronald promise her something this important and not even follow up on it! Especially now! Especially after what had happened to Harry! _Hermione knew that Ron wasn't very keen to his word, but she had hoped he'd be responsible just this once in his life! Bloody bastard! Harry's last family member _died,_ and he hadn't even wanted to talk about it, but preferred to spend his time alone.

_Harry, blaming himself again for something that anyone could have done. Blaming himself for others mistakes._

So Hermione had decided to mail the letter the old muggle way. She had no access to owls, and this was urgent. She had remembered that the Weasleys had a mailbox – due to Author's obsession with muggles- and Hermione supposed that even if the Weasley's weren't aware, the muggles in their area had addresses, which the postman should know, even if they didn't have their numbers up. She just hoped that Author checked the mailbox on a daily basis, or Hermione would be stuck in the dark until next June.

The Post office was hectic with letters and stamps flying everywhere, people bustling out. Hermione's letter matched the pace of the hurried feet as she scribbled (it would be a miracle if Ron could even read this) her message down onto the rumpled paper;

_Ronald,_

_You know it's urgent to get back to me, so the next time I see your face it better be under The circumstances that we worked out before the summer. I don't care if you break a dozen of the Wizarding World's laws to fly over in your father's car. It's important we get a plan together to take Harry to the Burrow as soon as possible._

_-Hermione_

Hermione licked the stamp and slapped it onto the envelope, stuck it into the awaiting mailman's arms, and marched her way out of there.

Hermione needn't have worried, and was quite cross when she reached her house and thrown down her coat on a kitchen chair. A brown barn owl sat perched on the counter, cooing at her with suspicion. Her temper rose, and Hermione batted the owl off the counter so that it wouldn't leave a mess.

_Hermione, we will be coming to pick you up seven o'clock sharp tomorrow evening. Be ready with all your things packed._

_~Mrs. Weasley_

Hermione sighed and slumped down into a chair. Ronald wasn't even responsible to write the letter himself, _Mummy Dearest_ had to do it. But Hermione liked Mrs. Weasley just fine, and so she batted away her disgruntled thoughts towards Ron and looked about for the old barn owl. And it just so happened that it was inching it's way towards the nearest window, obviously feeling concerned towards the brunette's nasty temper. "Come here, you." Hermione grabbed at the owls tail feathers in exasperation - frightening it more, which caused it to coo rather loudly and flap it's wings, looking up at her haughtily. But Hermione just glared at the bird indignantly and began to scribble a note back to Mrs. Weasley; all well and fair, she didn't want Ron's mother to read the furious letter she had just mailed.

A/N2: I'm pretty satisfied with this chapter, although it is a bit short. I think I made enough corrections and edited it enough times. I don't know when the next chapter will be finished, especially since I haven't started it just yet, but I am on holiday break so maybe I'll be able to patch some things together before the week is done. We shall see though, I am a notoriously slow writer at times. Review, review, review! xP


	2. The Train Ride In

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long! I've been busy with school&im an amazing procrastinator at the best of times- a horrible combination- but I'd really love to finish this story so I'll try my best to write whenever I can!

They were meeting at Borgin and Burkes in two months time, a day before school. Around the time where the students would receive their Hogwarts letters and head to Diagon Alley to retrieve their books. Draco's shopping trip was, however, much less pleasant and far from the calming and comfortable realm of the traditional back-to-school shopping hustle&bustle. They walked through the winding streets, -he and his frantic mother. Past the Weasley's joke shop full of laugher and forgetfulness of the outside world. And as the customers in the shop forgot all their troubles, the two worrying and rushing away seemed to carry a heavier burden on their shoulders, reminded of their despair.

They slipped down the dark passage leading to Knock turn Alley, full of whispering people with bloodshot eyes, just waiting for a bit of hope; willing to sell their souls. Some of them had lost their way to power and had become twisted with greed- leaving them alone, the narcissism leaving them to rot on the streets, turning slowly insane, like drowning in their own bad blood (and to put it frankly, any homeless had bad blood in the Malfoy's opinion).

Draco shivered, feeling their shrunken eyes watching him follow his mother around the corner. It was a secret -what he had to do- so of course everyone knew, or at least that's what the whispers told him.

Everything along the shop road was dark, the windows, filled with cobwebs, were shadowy- anything could be going on behind those windows- and he could only just make out the outlines of the haunted things in the shops still open, shivering with the anticipation to be bought and brought home- perhaps to strangle it's newfound owner.

Draco took a moment to curse his new predicament, but welcomed the light that reached out to them in the shadows. Borgin&Burkes was easing up on them in the darkness, like a beacon in the night- but not a comforting one. Draco tripped over the threshold and was greeted by the smirk of Mr. Burke. Draco looked down on him with an unruly huff. Burke had practically been in his fathers pocket last time Draco had been into his shop, he had no right to look down his nose at the Malfoy's when they'd practically handed him his pay check; Lucius Malfoy liked to fill the Mansion with various Dark Magic bits and bobs, making for a very entertaining childhood. The philosophy: curiosity killed the cat, was adopted by Draco at a very early age.

A hiss issued out of Burkes mouth at the look he received from Draco, but his mother pulled him away from yet another pointless battle and led him through the maze of littered Dark objects. A disembodied hand- brought back memories with Goyle during first year. Dark power: that time they slipped it into Pansy's drink to see what would happen- the result landed her in the hospital wing for weeks and got them into detention with a very reluctant Snape. Draco almost smiled at their silly carefree pastimes and wished to go back. But times had changed.

He grabbed a packet of Dark Powder on his way towards the back staircase. He figured he would put it to good use sometime this year.

The clatter and the noises of a deadly whispered discussion rose up from his stomach and howled into his ears- rising fast. The terror of what was about to befall him had him consumed. The flick of a wand, the feet of the Dark Lord-purple and clawed- his high haughty, hissing voice that was indisputable. The cold, meaningless, almost mocking pat on the back from his new up-and-coming ringleader.

Scattered memories, the flash of light- the sting- holding the desire to scream deep in the pit of his stomach, like a child hiding from the unknown. Swirling, swirling, swirling -stop.

Draco's pillow was solid underneath his pounding skull, and so common, so familiar that it didn't seem right. Now that everything was different. The morning light streamed through his dark emerald curtains, but Draco had no desire to open them up onto the long day ahead of him. His brain was too busy calculating his escape route. He had no desire to get out bed and feel the pounding of his brain against his skull as he denied every idea and found the loopholes in each plan. He wished it were as simple as throwing his cautions to the wind and having faith that by the time everything came around he'd have it worked out.

The smell of bacon and eggs wafted up through the shellacked floorboards, finally stopping him for more than a moment and waking up the rest of his senses.

In his robe he went down the stairs to the kitchen, where his mother sat at the head of the table reading the newspaper and having her tea cup filled by a house elf Draco had never seen before. He snapped his fingers and his place were set, a steaming cup of tea alongside his meal.

"We have to leave by 10:30, the floo to the pickup area is going to be packed since its September first"(Mrs. Malfoy said the same thing at the start of every school year, seemingly forgetting that her darling Draco was in his sixth year by now). We'll get picked up by... We'll walk from there to the station." Draco almost forgot to chew his bacon before swallowing. Never before, in all his five-year attending Hogwarts School has they walked to the station. His father, having friends in high places, always managed to get them a driver and a vehicle. "How long is the walk?" Draco asked, almost calmly. "Only a few blocks," she said mildly, as if this happened every year. Draco might as well go live with the Weasleys now, swallow his pride and buy himself a pet rat.

His mother hardly twitched at his words, although he was sure she had heard him. Mrs. Malfoy was the queen at avoiding things. Draco knew her silence. Not like his father, who hardly acknowledged his presence and gave the silent treatment better than Charlie Chapman (there was always a new reason for it): Something had happened with the Dark Lord, a new plan or idea has com into the picture, new obstacles that either threatened his own life or his family's.

His mother's silence was routinely comforting. She wasn't ignoring him, more just the idea of what was to happen to him. Instead of doting on him like some parents might, she tended to pretend everything was normal. This was how it was at the Malfoy Manor.

The morning was cool and misty, the air streaming up from the ground like a toxic gas. The walking path was damp and smelled musty and wet. The floo was indeed crowded and they had gotten off a stop early due to that. (Draco thanked God his father wasn't able to take his magical ability away from him like his pride as he watched muggles drag their luggage along.) They stepped out of the old Pawnshop that they had been dropped off in. The fireplace was in the back room; they wound their way through the scattered abandoned items and opened the glass door. The greeting bells tapped against the glass, a small innocent sound that reminded him of the willows on the Manor: the wind blowing through them in the late evening, and settling over the small pond nearby.

Draco spent most of his summers there near the willows, trying to get away from the constant visitors in his house – who usually lacked manners- and stepped back from his life for a moment (a life that lacked spontaneity and warmth). He had that willow tree no more. In time (sooner rather than later) he'd be that same intruder, blowing off the dust from his family life and taking out his wand to crucio whatever the Death Eaters dumped on his carpet.

The stale smell of Trains and their running steam rose up to Draco's nose and he thought of the journey to Hogwarts, acting like a normal teenager with his friends (or as normal as Slytherin teens were, anyway). He'd get some Canary Creams and relax for a bit. Draco hugged his mother goodbye in front of the Platform and disappeared through the bricks.

The steam rose up from the chugging, breathless train –Draco wondered fleetingly how old it was- and he loaded his suitcase onboard. Waving away Hannah Abbots call of: "All prefects meet in the compartment for a half an hour to discuss rules and regulations!" And he headed down to the opposite end of the train.


	3. The suitcase&The Owl

A/N- Thank you so much for checking out this fic and for the reviews I've gotten. Special thanks to unknownkyitty for her reviews and for sticking by this fic. I hope to be updating more often now that I'm on holiday. But please, please PLEASE review. Even if it's negative! I always appreciate constructive criticism!

Here's chapter three...

Hermione had settled into the summer beautifully. The Weasley's had come to pick her up right when they said they would- it had only been Mr. Weasley and Charlie(who he'd had to drop off along the way back to the Burrow) to pick her up but that had been fine just the same. She was greeted by the rest of the family once they arrived home and was moved comfortably into Ginny's room. They had spent many a night sitting up well past midnight talking and gossiping and laughing about everyday things. Ginny had been happily surprised at how at ease Hermione was that summer; once you got her talking she could talk for hours- but she never bored her.

Hermione now lay at the foot of Ginny's bed, having fallen asleep during a sleepy conversation that had involved lots of yawning. She snuggled deeper into the comforter around her and tried to ignore the sounds of Mrs. Weasley waking the boys downstairs. The sunlight shined lazily across her eyelids making it harder for her to ignore. Hermione rolled onto her back and stretched, making sure not to wake Ginny in the process, and arched her back. She then opened her eyes lazily and listened to the movements downstairs.

"Get up!" -that was clearly Mrs Weasley, Hermione heard a few muffled slapping sounds against soft cotton and grinned to herself. Ron was not a morning person.

A few grunts and then "Okay, okay! I'm up Mum". The familiar sound of slippers upon the stairs, Hermione heard the top step creek and the. There door was open and filling it was the plump woman with her bright red locks. She shuffled over to the bed and nodded a good morning to Hermione, and then gently shook at Ginny's ankle. Not wanted to be there for another rude awakening, Hermione excuses herself from the room and made her way down the winding tangle of stairs. Skipping the squeaky step outside Ron's room to make sure she didn't add to his already prodded bad morning attitude.

On her way to the kitchen she passed the knitting chair and the wall filled with old childhood drawings. She smiled absently as her eyes passes over them. A toad, a warty witch, several rainbow colored cats and a talking hat- obviously inspired by the Sorting Hat. She found Mr. Weasley picking at his teeth in the kitchen at the head of the long table that could seat nine. When he spotted her he nodded fondly and then hurried his nose into The Daily Profit with a worried furrow on his brow. This had become accustomed to Mr. Weasley's morning routine these days; the news seemed to worsen every day and many unexplained disappearances were reported. The lists long and tiring. It was almost easy to forget, the Weasley household was anything but quiet, and Hermione was preoccupied most of the day. Not that she had forgotten about Lord Voldemort, she just caught up in all the life the Weasley's had, she reminded herself firmly.

Hermione had had a lonely childhood and she finally felt like she was living out her fantasies(not thatcher parents had kept her lonely, there has just never been anyone around her age to truly listen to her and understand). Going downtown with Ginny and looking for attractive boys their age, finding cute trinkets in shops that they had scrapped up enough money to buy, constant jokes from Fred and George, making Mrs. Weasley scold and Mr. Weasley hide his laugher behind nasty coughing fits.

She sat down at the table after scooping her scrambled eggs out of the pan and salting And peppering them up just the way she liked. Once she had settled herself into the table she heard the first signs of life coming from upstairs ("I know how feel about it Mum but I really don't care-"). And the. The pounding of bothered footsteps on the stairs, not bothering to skip the squeaky step, and Ginny appeared at the foot of the stairs, casting an aggravated glance behind her as Mrs. Weasley appeared at her shoulder. They'd clearly just had an argument, not that they'd let on. It must have been a deeper problem than just the daily annoyances and disapprovals that Mrs. Weasley voiced quite daily - Ron slowly trudging down the stairs, his hair rumpled and sleep still in his eyes, "I wish you'd get up when I ask Ronald, save me the trouble!"

"Oh shut up, Mum. It's_ summer_.". Hermione and Ginny ross their eyes up at the ceiling. Hermione has picked up fast that it was never wise to pick at something Mrs. Weasley started, especially in the morning. Ron, in all his years, had obviously not touched upon that, as Mrs Weasley's scoldings became the background noise at the breakfast table.

"Gin, where are Fred and George?"

"If they're not down at the Tavern flirting with the waitresses then I suppose they're at the joke shop," Ginny shrugged. "it's open that early?" Hermione wasn't that surprised, the Weasley twins never had trouble with the ladies- and they knew it- they'd fit flirting in whenever they could. Hermione hated to admit it but she actually had a crush on Fred back in fourth year, she'd been dying for him to take her to the dance, but too shy to ask. They were both quite charming.

But they'd both seemed to become more serious after fifth year, when they'd made their final prank a legend of fireworks and Boggs blocking hallways. They got revenge on Umbridge and got the hell out of Hogwarts, swearing to never do anything academic again. Of course they hadn't lost their humor, but they seemed to have sobered up a bit, become more responsible, and manned up to take on their own shop. Which required specific timing. Times when they had to show up, in work clothes, organize the shop before hand. They'd grown into their responsibilities beautifully, and Hermione was very happy for them. But she couldn't help the sting of disappointment in her stomach. They made things fun and carefree and spontaneous. They gave her a good summer attitude, sure she'd have fun with Ginny- loads of fun, but she'd miss them none the less.

Her and Gin made their way down the hill, after Mrs Weasley's precautions. It was a miracle they were actually able to roam about considering how dangerous everything was becoming. Hermione tried not to stumble a they made their way down the foothill into the heart of town, although she knew the path by heart it was still hard for we to keep her balance on the uneven path. She was quite clumsy although she hated to admit it.

They explored the shops they hadn't gotten to yet and then picke out their favorites, Ginny got excited when she saw a dress in a shops window and dragged Hermione inside. She waited until she was done to see it. Their casual talk escalate into their favorite styles and things, they lost track of time until it was late afternoon, they had missed the lunch they had promised to attend as a check in with Mrs. Weasley. They were two hours late, and she'd already been cross at Ron this morning. They practically tripped up the hill as they hurried through the landscape ,Iike naughty children caught out of bed after dark. They snuck through the back yard, careful not to step on any garden gnomes underfoot. When they had finally fought their way through the brambles they heard a gasp and footsteps running towards them. Mrs. Weasley let out a high pitched scream, "Where have you two been ?" Ginny grasped her mothers arm, trying to calm her down. But that didn't seem to work as Mrs. Weasley kept raging. "You could have been knocked out dead cold and dumped into a ditch and we would have never known!" "Mum, it's alright, we just lost track of time, we didn't run into any trouble.".

Mrs. Weasley rounded on her, "Alright? We didn't know where you were I've been calling out for ages and your father even skirted the town to look for you! You've worried us sick!"

"But Mum-" Hermione managed to edge her way out of Mrs. Weasley's wrath, earning a glare from Ginny , and by the time Hermione had reached the back door she was sure Mrs. Weasley had reached a pitch that only the rats could hear.

Hermione reached the kitchen and found Ron sitting at the table, trying desperately to peel onions without cutting himself. He had an exhausted look on his face and his eyes were droopy, when he looked up at her they open wide and he seemed to come alive. "You left me here with her!". He jumped to his feet and pointed behind him, meaning Mrs Weasley. "Alone! Left me with her when she was in a right fit! All I've done all day was sweep and dust and make beds!". He was furious at being left behind. Mrs. Weasley must have been in a horrible state. "Ron, you missed nothing! We just shopped around, nothing you'd like.". He seemed to ease up a bit at that but that didn't stop him staring at her reproachfully as he sat down. "Ow." he groaned as he shaves off another bit of his thumb.

"Give me that," Hermione held out her open plan for the razor and took his place at the table to finish his job. "How was the day otherwise?" she asked tentatively, looking up at him. "Alright," he seemed to be trying to stifle the rest of his rage at being abandoned back down his throat. "Fred and George, Charlie and Bill are coming back for dinner." Hermione smiled at the thought of having a full Weasley dinner and was just about to comment on how wonderful that was when Mrs. Weasley came in. With Ginny running after her. "What time is it?" she asked. Her voice had a nasty cut in it she was breathing hard. Her anger at Ginny hadn't died down and as her eyes got a glimpse of the mess Ron had made of the onions she went on the rampage, chattering like a chihuahua, and matching pitch. "I teach you how to skin the onions correctly and you still can't be arsed enough to do it correctly!"

Mr. Weasley banged through the front door, adding to the mayhem. "There you are," Mrs. Weasley said, opening her arms. "We have to have a discussion. Now. " She sent the three of them upstairs and they headed for Ron's room. "Thanks for leaving me here today," Ron took a dig at Ginny. "Ron!". Hermione tunes on him and he raised his eyebrows at her and backed off. "Just don't let it happen again." he muttered.

"It's getting worse," Ginny said. Sighing as she sat down on Ron's bed. "what?". Hermione asked, confused by the weight of a mood on the room that wasn't familiar.

A raise of voices through the floorboards seemed to answer her. "we can't send them back! It's unsafe!" Molly Weasley's familiar screech filled the empty house. Arthur replied with something unintelligible . "That." Ron answered. "Their fighting. Mum doesn't want us to go back to Hogwarts."

"What?" Hermione was shocked.

"She reckons its not safe"

"But Dumbledore-"

"She thinks he's getting too old."

"Dad still supports him, though" Ron contributed to the conversation. "Says its best we go back. He reckons if Dumbledore has lasted this long he'll last a little longer. At least until..."

"Until the war," Hermione stated. Ron nodded.

It was later that evening, when the crickets got louder and the fireflys lit up the curtained windows. Hermione tapped at the sink with her toothbrush and combed through her hair with her finger tips. Glancing in the mirror she whipped what was left of the tooth past off her lips and fixed her cotton light blue pajama top to make sure it covered everything. She was on her way down the hall back to Gin y's room when she heard a hoot. There were no trees next the the windows on this level of the house. Hermione furrowed her brow: the owl was inside the house. She ran to the railing and called "Is that Harry?"

"Harry?" Ron stuck his head out of the landing on the floor below her and then Ginny called up through the tangle of stairwells, "Yes, it's Harry. He's here!" Hermione could hear the smile in her voice. Even if Ginny wouldn't let on, she knew better.

They ran down the stairs like young children, eager. Hermione ran into Harry's arms, ad and final at peace that he was safe. No more wondering about how the Dursley's were caring for him. He was here, safe and healthy. Although Harry was the beacon, the reminder that there was a war brewing, and he brought up her guard and he got her mind ticking again on new ideas, she was so very happy to see him. He looked a but pale and underfed, but she knew Mrs. Weasley would get him back to normal in no time. Dinner would be any minute.

After dinner the trio headed off to Ron's room, who boisterously told Ginny _"No"_ when she tried to come in. Hermione caught a glint in Harry's eye.

After Ginny had given up and skunked upstairs, Ron sat back on his bed. "Right, well, how've ya been Harry, the Durlsey's treating you right "

"As right as ever."

"Yeah. Harry, what happened when Dumbledore picked you up?" Ron leaned forward, interested.

"He took me to convince an old professor to come back to Hogwarts, apparently I'm an advertisement to draw more people to the school now.". Hermione shook her head, " He must've had good reason."

"Yeah, but listen...". Harry continued to tell them about Dumbledore and his skeletal hand, how the house Professor Slughorn had been staying in was turned upside down and about the blood dripping for the walls...

They talked deep into the night, till the early hours of morning when you could tell that the sun was muffled under the darkness and that early morning coldness took over. They were back. Hermione felt the slight tingle of excitement and wariness in her bones. They were planning and plotting again. Back was the trio before all this madness, they'd always been best that way; when they had a task at hand. Harry came up with the brilliant. Implicated ideas, Hermione fine tuned them and Ron(who had never been good at planning) racked his brain for anything else they could use.

After that the summer went by rather quickly, the summer daze had disappeared as they introduced Harry to all the things he's missed the first few weeks(he had been quite frustrated cooped up at the Dursley's).

Summer was on its last legs and all the Weasley's had finally made time to get together. After having a filling dinner out under the sun Charlie and Bill organized a game of Quidditch- Ron even coaxed Hermione onto a broom- they were at an uneasy peace with the world around them, and George and Fred's witty remarks and fast banter eased them all into it. The last few days at The Burrow stuck out in Hermione's memory best. The laughing and the teenage tricks and utter lie in her stomach from Ron's arm around her. George's wink in her direction and Ginny's fast giggle, infections and light out in the night. At one point Harry and Ginny snuck down by the stream and when they came back to join them six pairs of knowing eyes turned on them. Ginny stared at the twins indignadely and stated "it was nothing, we were only talking!" Harry looked at her and stepped a bit away as Ron's jaw clenched, Hermione patted his arm.

Later she heard them arguing in Rons room as she walked back to her room from the bathroom. When she walked in on them they went silent. She stared at them for a bit before she. I'd then goodnight and got out. "Boys..." She muttered, shaking her head.

The next morning she awoke to the sound of Mrs. Weasley's voice and the shuffle of suitcases on the stairs. Ginny stumbled through the door, tripping over the books she had not yet packed, and almost seemed surprised to see her. "Hermione! We're so late already! I'm sorry I forgot to wake you, get up!" Her arms in the air like Mrs. Weasley as she waved at her, "Get_ up_!"

"Alright, alright I am! But you're one to talk, you haven't finished packing!" Ginny looked down at the books in front of her and threw them into her suitcase before zipping it up, Hermione levitated her bag at shoulder level and Ginny grabbed her arm, "Lets go!" Before pulling her down the stairs after her.

Hermione hadn't even gotten herself dressed and once they'd reached the bottom level she ran off to find a bathroom so she could at least change into her wizards' robes. Once everyone had been loaded into the car and Ron had located all his books that he had forgotten to pack last night, they pulled away from the driveway to make it into the Station at 10:50. Mrs. Weasley hurried all of them through the wall(Fred and George had come to wave them off as well), and when the twins almost snuck on the train with them to pull a few pranks on their first years, Mrs. Wealsey discovered their abseence and they were all waved off with her shreiking in the background. _Well, everything seems to be normal now. _Hermione loaded her suitcase on with the boys and found a compartment with all three of them to fit. They had a quick reunion with the D.A. that involved lots of back patting from Neville and whoops from Seamus, and then they settled into their compartment. Ready for the ride, Hermione had brought three new books for her she had bought in Diagon Alley a few days before. But when Harry said he had something to take care of Hermione looked up curiously and raised an eyebrow at Ron. "what's he on about?"

"Malfoy, he's obsessed," Ron leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and a mixture of emotions on his face. "Reckons he's a Death Eater, now if that was true it'd be a right laugh." Hermione looked at him amused, but after a moment, "We should support him though, even though the ministry's finally behind him there's still folks who think he's crazy. He doesn't need that." Ron nodded and shoved a chocolate frog into his mouth noisily. Hermione snorted and hid her eyes behind her book again.

"Hey yous, hows it going" Seamus had poked his head into their compartment and Ron waved him in. "Where's Harry."

"Off on buisness," Ron answered. They shared a laugh at that and started taalking about what sounded like Quidditch. When Ginny and a couple more of the D.A. girls joined their compartment Hermione relaxed her shoulders and was greatful, she needed girl time. Putting her book aside she happily welcomed them into their compartment and even Neville ended up in there too. It was a happy, noisey ride into Hogsmead Station, but once Hermione realized Harry wasn't with them when they'd gotten off the train she started to worry a bit more.

_What if he'd finally really gotten himself into trouble?_ She was just about to go off on this with Ron when he patted her shoulder gently and told her not to worry, Harry had faced Voldemort loads of times and hadn't died, he'd be safe on the train. They met the security at the gates and they both emptied out their pockets, Ron cept going through with chocolate Frogs in his pocket and kept being sent to the back of the line. Hermione waited for him until they were one of the last people going through. She glanced through the gates behind them one last time and when she didn't catch Harry as one of the stragglers really anxiety bloomed in her stomach. She took one last glance through the wrought iron gates before Ron pulled her away along the path to the castle.

A/N2- this chapter was a bit sloppy in the dialog but I'm just starting and I'm trying to put in more attention to detail. But it's 3 AM and I just wanted to get another chapter done. PLEASE review! Cookies to all who do(;


	4. Something Lost

A/N: Alright I just want to explain a few things about this story. First off, I'm sorry the Hermione chapters haven't been as vivid and detailed as the Draco ones, it's harder since I have to stick to the book with those and she has more dialog. I'm going to try to get more in her head the next few chapters, I'm just such an impatient writer. Also some of the dialog will stray from the original since I want to get creative. While at other parts with the Trio it may seem copied(although it is not). I also want to warn that this story is a major** **SPOILER**** if you haven't read from the fifth book on.

The Draco chapters are much slower paced and a bit freer since most of the sixth book he isn't involved. I'm writing this at a decent hour in the day as well so hopefully everyone enjoys this... I also wanted to say that Microsoft Word isn't working on my computer so I will probably be going to the library to publish each chapter. But depending on how often I get there I may be posting a few chapters at a time(lucky you!)

Hopefully it will be often.

It will get more Dramione later on, I promise! I just need a few more filler chapters to get them a bit into their school year and then it will get started.

****I'm also hoping for reviews, PLEASE! I'd really appreciate it!****

And so it had started. His school year at Hogwarts had begun. Here came his responsibilities of being the Slytherin ringleader and making fun of Potter and causing harmful mischief. This year he was going to have to balance that with his task at hand. He wasn't sure how hard that'd be, but he imagined it'd take up most of his time.

Not that he didn't enjoy making fun, it was quite a nice pastime.

He was making his way into the Great Hall with Zabini and Crabbe, glancing over the heads to find a clear passing to the Slytherin table. Once they'd sat down the other sixth year Slytherins gathered around him, making room and sitting comfortably in a circle around him. "What's got that grin on your face?" Zabini glanced at him, an undercurrent of disapproval in his voice. Draco turned to him, after glancing around the hall to see if his plan had worked. "I smashed Potter's face in. After all those years as seeker he can't move fast enough for the life of him." Blaise smirked, "really?" and the Slytherins around then guffawed with laughter and approval. "Oh and it gets better," Draco grinned to himself, finally getting the whole attention of the crowd around him. "Care to do a demonstration with me, Goyle?" Not that Goyle had a choice. He got up and stood next to Draco, who made a big show of how he wasn't standing right because he couldn't quite capture how Potter stood with a stick up his royal arse.

Finally, Draco mimed slamming Goyle onto the ground and stomping on his nose. He then told the crowd that he threw Potters invisible cloak back over him and left him there so he wouldn't be found until the train got back to London. Using his own weapon against him.

"Do you think he was found?" one Slytherin he didn't recognize asked. (Probably a fifth year, by the look of him.) Just when he was about to tell him to get a brain and think a minute because how could Potter have been found in his old trusty cloak?), he caught a view of Potter just sitting down at the Gryffindor table with the She-Weasel nursing him worriedly. She was dabbing blood off his face and helping with his bloody nose, which was back to normal. He felt a pang of anger in his chest and caught Potters eye a minute, and then turned back to his crowd to put on the show all over again. Leaving the Slytherin unanswered.

In that moment, Grangers eyes were like fire drawn to his, their eye contact caused a zing of electricity to explode up his spine, tugging behind his eyes.

He converted that energy into a snotty eye roll and mouthed "mudblood" at her, with the best sneer he could muster until she turned away, shaking her head and flipping her hair as she did. By then Dumbledore had started up his beginning of year speech. Snickers were spreading out over the Slytherin table, which was customary and not unusual. Draco sighed, knowing in a moments time it was his duty to roll his eyes at his superiors to fulfill his housemates expectations. "To our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back!"

"Welcome back is right," Draco smirked at his peers, "why would anyone want to be educated at this loony bin?" chuckles from his friends and good mannered pats on his shoulder made his smirk grow and he chuckled to himself. He still had it.

Hermione shot him a glare. He pleasantly smiled back.

"No!" Potter cried across the Hall, and Draco looked at him. He sounded desperate, he must've missed something that Dumbledore had announced. "Snape's become DADA professor" Blaise said, acknowledging his confused look, and at that moment the whole of the Slytherin table stood up to applaud, Draco with them. "Finally, yeah?" Draco leaned across the table to Zabini as they erupted into conversation, just like the rest of the hall.

When Dumbledore started talking about how You-Know-Who was once more at large, Draco knew it was his time to exit the path of a good listener and he decided to distract himself, he wasn't going to listen to this bollix when he knew more than the half of what the headmaster knew. And just looking at Dumbledore gave him a stomach ache. saying. He levitated his fork into the air and his whole place set soon followed. The Slytherins around him soon erupted into silent laughing fits. Triumph flared his features.

After Dumbledore's speech was over he and Zabini made their way through the crowd, bumping first years into each other and quickly passing through.

They received their schedules from Snape and Draco was happy to find he had two free periods until DADA. If it was going to be like that all year he would have everything under control in no time.

Defense Against the Dark Arts proved to be entertaining with Snape as their teacher. Now Draco knew he'd excel in both potions and defense against the dark arts since they finally had a decent teacher.

But Draco was anything but fond towards Snape at the moment since his mother had made him promise to watch over him. He wasn't a child anymore, he could handle what he had to do. It was his honor. Snape wasn't going to take that away from him, and so...

"The Dark Lord had used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..." Draco rolled his eyes and snorted, looking at his friends and shaking his head. Snape had no idea what he was talking about, he wasn't as close to the Dark Lord as the Malfoys. If they wanted a real DADA class they might as well hire Draco to teach them everything the Dark Lord has done and will do, because he actually knew. His friends caught on fast and sniggered at Hermione just a moment after. Her eyes slid over to them and Draco raised his eyebrows at her, smirking. If Granger didn't always have that indignant look on her face he supposed she might actually be pretty. But before he got a good look she turned away to glare up at Snape who had continued to lecture her on how she needed to control herself. That was Draco's cue to flail his arms around like Granger when she knew the answer. He jumped up from his seat.

Potter and Weasley Caught the movement from the corner of their eyes and turned to look at him. Draco slammed back down into his seat, avoiding eye contact. He hated to admit it but Weasley looked a bit too menacing for his own tastes, not that he cared to say that out loud.

After class Draco bumped his way past the Gyffindors and away from a confused Blaise. He made his way towards the dungeons to make him think he was heading to the dormitories. But Blaise caught up with him. "what's up, Mate? Why the hurry?" Blaise had almost managed to look concerned, so Draco decided to cut him some slack. "I've just got something I need to take care of." Right, now bugger off. Now that he didn't need to explain himself anymore Draco dashed off in the opposite direction, hoping to work his way through lunch and into sixth block.

The library as nearly empty, since it was just the first day of school and no one was worried about O.  or N.E. yet. All except Gryffindor' bushy know-it-all; Granger. Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head as he barreled past her, colliding with her elbow. She tuned to mouth him off but not before he pushed through her and practically ran to the restricted section, flashing Madam Pince the signed not from Snape- their alliance had come some what in handy- not in the mood to be scolded, and made his way through the gates. He headed all the way to the back and worked his way up the Dark Magic row. The first book he picked up "Wizardry Traiceret," traiceret meaning "transport." Draco wasn't even sure what to do, after rifling through the book there seemed to be no way to travel some place that blocked apparation and didn't have any sort of connecting link. Running his hands through his hair he sat exasperated, surrounded by the other books he had gone through including one that had screamed some very obnoxious words in his face and earned him a reproachful look from Pince. Slytherin almighty, Draco's brow furrowed as he sat, a strong headache coming on, and shook his head. Nearly everyone had cleared out of the library now that it was past lunch and the only student left seemed to be Granger.

The girl who'd driven him crazy since first year. She thought so highly of herself even though she didn't have much talent, just a photographic memory. Her life was consumed by her studies that she left no time for anything fun(unless you count the shenanigans that Ron and Harry got into every year). She had absolutely nothing Draco desired, except for true friendship, he'd always been jealous of the trio's bond. On the other hand she also seemed to be very brave….

Draco shook his head to drive his thoughts away. He needed to get back to work before sixth block was up and he had to head to Charms.

Professor Flitwick was a respectable professor. The type that knew when to live and let live; he knew when to look the other way and turn his nose. Or perhaps he was just scared of Draco… But that he would never know.

Draco arrived fifteen minutes late to class, and as he slipped quietly into the back row of desks he gave Flitwick his best nod and a piercing Malfoy look that demanded attention. He set his book bag down against the desk leg and took out his quill and a piece of parchment, ready to pick up on his slack. Although he thought he deserved a nice long break.. maybe in the Prefect's bathroom. He sighed at the thought and tried to inconspicuously stretch out his aching back. Damn those books. Giving up his normal haughty look he decided to stretch, and when he cracked his back quite loudly he heard a very deliberate cough come from the right of him; his seating partner. 'Bloody hell, I didn't know I had Charms with the Gryffindor!" He mocked whispered. He was actually quite surprised to see Granger there as well as the rest of the lot. Lucky him, potions and defense against the dark arts and charms, oh my! "Well if you weren't so busy cutting class and napping maybe you would've taken a glance at your schedule!" Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and almost looked concerned. "tsk-tsk, Granger," he clucked at her, "I was just in the library the last few periods. By the way, how to you manage to be hunched over books all day? I can barley sit up straight! Besides," he added as an after thought, "how would I have gotten here if I hadn't at least glanced at my schedule, hmm?" She gave him her best sneer, "Shove off, Malfoy."

"Nice chat, mudblood." He swiveled in his chair back towards the front of the class room.

The students enjoyed the rest of the class in peace.

At the end of the class Draco felt a tap on his shoulder. Knowing who it would be he pointedly paid more attention to Professor Flitwick assign their homework for the night.

"Two feet of parchment on-"

"I know you felt that, Malfoy.". Draco clenched his jaw in concentration and mimed jotting down the homework- which he had no intention of doing.

"...the cleaning charm and the sweeping charm are both very-"

"What? Too upset about your father being thrown into Azkaban?" That got him. A trickle of cold harsh anger ran through is forehead. "Don't you dare talk about my father like that!"

But she had already gone. Banging his book on the table before picking them up again, he ignored the startled looks from students around him and headed to Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs.

He couldn't even believe the nerve of her… talking about things like she knew every side to them. It was his business, and even though her goody two-shoes friends had gotten his father where he was now that gave her no insight on the whole situation.

Draco stalked through the rows of books in the library trying to find more texts on travel but hardly succeeding. He couldn't concentrate on anything; his head too jumbled with words like mudblood and ignorant. He rounded the corner of the row and ran right into her. "Sweet Slytherin, Granger!" They almost knocked foreheads; a rush of skin and an intake of breath later Granger had cocked out a hip and placed her hand dutifully upon it, comeback resting on her lips. "Maybe YOU should watch where you're going Malfoy!"

"Granger-" a snarl of breath furled from his mouth but was sliced in half by her words. "What? Haven't been sitting around the common room all day coming up with nicknames for me with your big goons? Why are you even-"

"Granger! Don't speak to me like that you filthy, little-"

"Mudblood." she finished for him, solidly. "We know you're up to something,"

"We?"

"Harry, Ron and I. We know. And I don't like what you did to Harry on the train either, just because your father got himself thrown into Azkaban with Harry at the scene-"

"Not twice in one day Granger." His words hissing out his mouth like a snake tasting the air, "You and your little friends are dimwitted Gryffindors who-"

"Watch your back." Her tone caught him, the earth rushing up to his ears and his demeanor snapped. It had been all talk, surely? But the look in her eye and the slice of her chin sternly cautioning him- "We know you're up to something. And don't put it past us to find _out_." She ground out the last word, emphasizing it; echoing in the air.

Draco thought better of himself for a moment. Putting aside his prejudices, he figured he had better _watch his back_, as the mudblood had put it...

Shaking his head at her wake he turned lightly on his heel, heading back down the row he had come.

Only a few hours later did he realize that he had searched this row many times before, caught up in Gryffindor hues and cocked out tips and indignant a words, he hadn't even noticed.

Back in his dorm, tossing a quad file around with Blaise and Theo and breathing Gryffindor-free air, Draco was at ease: The easy grip on the ball, sweat and stamina sticking to it, the light sticking sound as it passed through his fingers in a swift motion to Blaise...

"So you've seemed quite distracted recently," Blaise's easy conversational tone hitting the air and causing Draco to loose connection with the calm. Fighting the static invading his thoughts, he tried to ignore Zabini's words.

Mott coughed. "Leave it Zabini." Draco made no eye contact. For a person who very little ever showed emotion, his friend was good at detecting it and he did t want to attract anymore interest. _Not in front of Nott._ When the soft passing sound of the ball being passed between them came to a halt, Draco finally looked at him. "Leave it." he said. Direct eye contact and it passed between them, a slight nod from Blaise; hardly noticeable, and a confused look at them from Nott and the ball continued to be passed between them. As difficult as Blaise could be at times, he knew the life of a death eater-even though he wasn't one. He had grown up with his family members smack in the ring of Voldemort and had been influenced heavily by that and his family. He planned on joining Draco on the other side after he graduated from Hogwarts to begin a shiny new life full of, _he hoped_, power. Draco passed the ball back into Nott's arms and exited the circle of their game, holding up his hands in surrender, but his dark expression said the opposite. "I'll see you guys later," he made his exit fast before anyone could ask questions, and swooshed out of the room.

The footsteps approached fast and furious in his memory: A swish of a cloak around a corner and a light pant of breath. Fifth year. Professor Umbridge and Dumbledore's Army. His cause was lost, and so was the Room of Requirement, right? Hoping not to run into any sentimental Gryffindor he glided down the hall way until he reached the seventh-floor corridor. Looking over his shoulder he walked by the entrance three times.

_I have a lost cause and I need somewhere to fix it- somewhere safe. _He repeated that three times under his breath and then he too, slipped around the small, inelegant door that he didn't remember from fifth year, and shut the door firmly behind him.

Inside a large but cramped room stood Draco, glaring up at the high ceilings and the clutter that went high above his head. This was not what he had been looking for: He had wanted an answer, not a search.

He sighed, causing a current of air to blow the dust off the rubbish, Draco coughed violently on the dust and then looked about, frantically hoping for some sort of explanation.

Scraps of paper long lost from organized notebooks swirled in the updrafts and streams of dusty light shone down between the clutter that blocked the windows. A smell of musk and dust and.. Christmas? Filled Draco's nostrils and he stamped over the mess, pushing tapestries that were filled with bat droppings and trying not to nudge books that mumbled at him.

He came out into a clearing surrounded by the confusion of the rubble. Draco began to work through the piles that at least looked like _something _and wondered why the door to the room had been different... Probably because of the different destination, of sorts... When he had finished with the piles all along his clearing he pushed the hair out of his face and rubbed at his cheeks with sweat coated fingers. He knew accomplishments came with hard work. But when he had been assigned this task he hadn't pictured THIS. Draco had lived in his father's shadow all his life. Watching him work and knowing what came from it. He had reveled in his success and become frustrate with his losses, knowing that they would take him somewhere, someday. This was finally his chance to step out and make his own legacy; become his own Malfoy.

For the first time his task felt _real._ More realistic than his aunt's insane laughter and the burn of the Dark Mark on his forearm. He had known the consequences or the gain that would come from this. People who had failed the Dark Lord before- he knew the Cruciatus Curse etched into their backs like ants knew the paths through an ant hill. He had memorized their screams and had woken. In the night with them screaming in his mind, he could've been one of Voldemort's victims just by being present. He knew the smell and the taste and the touch of the Cruciatus just like them. But he was on the predator's side and had no intention of knowing all of that for real.

The terror consumed his mind and he knew he had to find a way to complete this thing that had seemed so simple a week ago. he had known then that Dumbledore was one of the greatest wizards of all time(dare he admit it), he wasn't ignorant or stupid. But it had seemed so unreal.

Now looking back he hadn't paid much attention but to the pain of his newly branded tattoo, and Bellatrix's squeaks of encouragement and whispering. He had no idea except that he was to kill Albus Dumbledore. Or die trying. Only the fear and the thought that there was _no way out now_. And the corners seemed to taunt him.

His future was set in stone.

Draco was honored to be a Death Eater; the youngest of all time in fact. But he hated that this was what everyone had predicated of him. He hated to be predictable.

The rubble swam before his eyes and the earth came back crashing around his ears, the Vanishing Cabinet in Borgin&Burkes... That's what they had been discussing: it's twin was broken... And _lost._

A/N: Hi guys, I'm sorry this is going so slowly.. I worked to make this chapter long and my fingers are cramped from trying to get into the fic. When it starts to get closer to Christmas in the fic it will get a bit more angsty… im going to try to hurry it up though since I'm very eager to start writing that bit. Hope you're enjoying and expect an update soon(:


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