Hello everyone, it's new fanfiction time! I am happy with how the story is turning out, and unlike my previous fanfiction attempts, I have a plan this time. Read, fallow, favorite, and review. Thanks. - Madi

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me in anyway.

Summary: My Dramione version of the sixth book, NOT Half-Blood Prince Compatible.
"I am not your precious Potter, nor am I some fucking Gryffindor." He paused knowing after all this she would end up probably hating him for doing this. Sadly, that is exactly what he wanted. "I am not a hero Granger… If you chose to remember anything, remember that…"
As the newest death eater, Draco Malfoy has the task of mending a certain cabinet, and with Hermione Granger, of all people, as his lab partner in potions class, she begins to get incredibly nosy.

Warnings: I have no idea whether I am going to make this M, but just to be safe, that is going to be my ratings. If there is some M rated material, in advanced I will add a warning in the chapter ahead of time, so do not worry.

Chapter One

Bleeding Out

"When the hour is nigh,
And hopelessness is sinking in…"

Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons

Saturday August 24th, 1996

The hollow snap of expensive men's dress shoes echoed loudly against the black and white marbled flooring, as he, Draco Malfoy, quickly made his way down the long narrow corridor. The distinct sound of silence caused him to pause just outside a set of large double doors, one of which sat ajar. Hesitant at first, not wanting to actually continue with what was about to happen, he exhaled rather loudly.

An unexpected hiss fallowed by the cold scaly brush against his ankle made him freeze; he then proceeded to eye the offending serpent. Watching as it slid across the smooth floor into the room before him, relaxing lightly as it disappeared. He let a shaky breath escape his almost thin lips, when loud flickering hisses rung out causing him to push the door open slowly.

Draco watched the snake, leaving through the cracked door once more, and then he turned his attention back towards Voldemort whom looked up at him for the first time this evening. The Dark Lord motioned for Draco to have a seat beside the fireplace across from him.

"My apologies my Lord, it seems I am a bit early." Draco mumbled as he made his way to the seat. Another abrupt hiss rang out again as the Dark Lord nodded.

"Nagini wishes for me to inform you Draco that your mother is lingering just outside the door." Timidly the door opened the rest of the way, yet again, as his eyes landed upon his mother. Draco watched her eyes landing upon Him, Voldemort, his naturally cold antagonistic features twitched upon eye contact, forcing Narcissa to look down bowing her head towards him.

"I meant no intrusion my Lord; I was curious about tonight and honestly just wanted to be present during my son, Draco's initiation." She spoke with evident fear woven into her docile words. Draco watched his mother turn towards him; making sure, she met a baleful look flashing across his face. However, his facial appearance almost immediately faltered losing its spiteful edge; he then attempted to remain stoic.

Though Draco was mildly irritated at his mother's presence, he mentally rolled his eyes, knowing why she was here. Attempting to relieve her worries, to make sure that he was not in immediate danger. He was angry, yes, but merely because she was here, putting herself in a position to be in the crosshairs of Voldemort's erratic and usually wrathful ways. Hypocritical, maybe, but he was not about to change his mind, her being here may have helped her, but it was not in any way helping to settle his own worries.

"Draco, do you wish for her to remain here throughout your initiation?" the Dark Lord's spoke delicately, his voice slithering in a familiar manor almost like his snake. While the serpent was currently curling up beside the Dark Lord, hissing quietly, with a flickering of its forked tongue. The platinum blonde hair upon the nape of Draco's neck rose, feeling the Lord's eyes burning into him. His jaw clenched while he glanced softly at his mother, her pale sharp features knotted with worry, he then gave a terse nod, turning back towards Voldemort.

For a slight second he considered her safety above her uncertainties of Draco's current position, but decided he was not about to fight her on the matter. It was also a selfish comfort to have her here really. To have someone who genuinely cares about his wellbeing during his introduction of dark magic, the dark ways. Though he would never admit it to anyone or even himself for another second, he was nervous, and rightfully so.

"Yes my Lord, allowing her to stay would put her mind at some sort of ease." Draco's lip convulsed lightly, as he lowered his gaze the floor, sensing the Dark Lord was weary of his decision, but he agreed nonetheless.

"Very well, we shall continue as planned." Sudden wisps of black smoke danced into the room, death eater after death eater appeared, twisting back into their true forms. The last one to enter was the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange herself, Draco's aunt whom gave him a debauched curl of her lips fallowed by a glib snort. Draco acknowledged her presence with a condescending sneer.

"Prepare yourself Draco, an initiation is not something to be taken lightly." Voldemort slowly stood, as did Draco, removing his custom black cloak. Draco nodded in understanding then proceeded to roll his left sleeve of his white dress shirt to his elbow, then shakily exhaled.
Draco could not stop the fear from sinking, taking hold of him, trying to drag him down. After tonight, nothing would be the same. He was almost livid, at the situation his mother and him were in, at his mother for allowing things to become difficult, at his father for doing this to him.

'Bloody hell, everything is sodding pointless... What is the point to being scared, or angry about this? Feeling the complete hopelessness of the situation, is nothing but a waste of time. Do well to remember that.' He thought to himself looking up, all eyes lingering upon him.

When Draco extended his arm to the Dark Lord, he pulled out his wand and gripped Draco's wrist in a vise-like grasp, his cold almost scaly hand digging into the soft skin. He felt the twisted magic trickle from the tip of Voldemort's wand lapping at his forearm, he then watched as a dull green light began to burn his arm.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, do you swear to serve me and my cause no matter the cost, no matter why or what is asked of you." The tip of the wand rested against his arm, as the pain increased and Draco attempted to distract himself by gnashing his teeth together. "Do you swear to serve me, the Dark Lord, to death if or when it should come to it?" Voldemort grinned sadistically, a crazed glint tugged at his snake like features.

"Yes, my Lord." Draco spat viciously through the throbbing ache in his arm, the magic twisting excruciatingly, and then proceeded to lick harshly at his veins.

The Dark Lord hissed gleefully through his sickening laughter, continuing to dig his wand into the pale skin of Draco's forearm. The green glow intensified robbing the air, polluting it with the reeking scent of dark magic. An agonizing hasty rush of pain enveloped Draco's arm completely, forcing his knees to buckle involuntarily. Falling down to his knees, his singular scream echoed throughout the wide room, then he roughly bit his tongue, catching his cheek slightly between his teeth, in order to silence the impending obvious signs of pain, of weakness.

Voldemort's grip tightened around his wrist, the prominent distinct metallic tang flooded his mouth as Draco watched a dark almost black like bruise forming beneath his snowy skin. He grunted in an almost desperate plea for the imminent pain to stop. Twirling underneath his skin, the dark bruise formed into a snake that slid across his skin and through the mouth of a newly painted scull.

The excruciating pain folded into itself, coming down to a dull throb, the sound of several sniggers pricked the room as Voldemort shoved Draco to the ground. Bellatrix and the Dark Lord shared distasteful sardonic cackles. Narcissa started towards her son, but stopped when he shot venomous looks towards anyone who neared him. Draco rose slowly to his feet, fists clenched tightly as he made brief eye contact with the Dark Lord.

"Welcome Draco…" Voldemort's smile tightened over his crooked teeth, as his tongue traced them wildly. Draco gave a slight nod of his head shuffling meekly into his official spot, where his father had once stood; next to him was the truly insane and distorted aunt Bellatrix, who giggled quietly. "This is your new beginning Draco, do not disappoint me." He sneered at Draco, who knew that he was replacing a sorry excuse of a father, and death eater whom sat, currently imprisoned in Azkaban, because of own his stupidity.

"I will attempt to restore what is left of the Malfoy name my Lord." Draco's voice wavered, as he replied almost evenly, lowering his stare to the marbled floor once more. Then Voldemort progressed with the meeting he had planned for after his initiation.

Consuming thoughts rolled around in his head, the new brand upon his skin drew his attention, and Draco could not help the disgust he felt from seeing the affronted mark. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to swallow the lingering taste of blood in his mouth and with the tip of his tongue traced the tear upon the inside of his right cheek. Subsequently, an abrupt, unwanted, yet immeasurably intrusive thought startled him.

'I am officially a death eater, how depressingly meretricious.' He toyed at the thought, pursing his lips tightly, and then looked over offending brand yet again, which now stained him. A sudden wave of nausea tugged inside him roughly, panic thickly closing in. 'What have I gotten myself into….Did I think this through enough? Was it the right choice?-' he paused his racing thoughts, and almost sneered. 'No…What's done is done. I made the difficult choice. The right choice. I can do this, whatever the Dark Lord will have me do, I can, and will do it. It'll be easy...' He sharply cut the thought.

Draco knew he wanted nothing to do with this madness, but also knew he was prepared to do what was necessary. Although he did not condone some of the death eaters ways, for they had absolutely no tact. He still shared some of the same beliefs as some of these, moronic wizards. Like purebloods, obviously being ultimately superior to in every sense of the word. If any person held any traces of dirty blood or supported these, 'mudbloods', they were beneath him greatly.

Pausing at the term mudblood, when a certain know-it-all flashed in his mind. Suddenly Draco could saw her laughing, bright and flawless face, with her traditional unruly mess of brown curls. The image of her, danced in his mind, abrupt warmth encircled him, warmth he only felt, when she invaded his thoughts. Which happened more then he would ever care to admit.

Pushing her out of his thoughts, cursing when he realized he was thinking of Granger, again, of all the people he could make his daydreams about, it had to be her. With a disgusted sneer at himself, the fact he allowed himself to think of that filthy mudblood so damn much; he then went back to his original stoic stance.

All of that being beside the point, Draco was ultimately doing this to survive, ensuring his mothers survival alongside him. The next part of his plan was to wait it out, should things take a sour turn here, running was the only option, which was only if his pride did not overcome his instinct of survival.

'Me, a Malfoy, siding with mudbloods and blood traitors?' he wanted to retch violently, and could not even begin to think what he would do if things had come down to, to that. 'I would be basically siding with the 'Golden trio'. Splendid.'

Unfortunately, he needed a backup plan, for his mother at the very least. His plan was to attempt to gather useful information to use for the other side, becoming a turncoat was his last and final option, self-preservation as it were. Thus as a precaution, he decided he would ask for protection, if not him, for his mother alone.

It was anything but news to him when Voldemort told him this was his new beginning, because that was what the rest of them believed, that the initiation in fact was a fresh start for them. While still being that for him, it was mostly another chance to survive. Really just a necessary stop until Potter finally grew a pair and ended this thing, which was a completely and extremely idiotic thing he hoped, would happen.

'Saint Potter is without a doubt the worst wizard for the task of killing the Dark Lord, really.' He mused noticing with a trivial brush of his tongue that the gash in his cheek was no longer bleeding.' He is supposed to kill Voldemort. Pathetic, the other side is. Relying on Potty to end this war, and that was in the slim chance that he could actually finish the job. Honestly its quiet laughable.'

Draco also felt uncertain about leaving his mother, worried if she would remain safe when he returned to his sixth year at Hogwarts. Not evening knowing how he would focus on school to begin with. Brushing away the thought, he watched Bellatrix snort at something the Dark Lord had said. Beginning to wonder what his first task would actually be.

Newly recruited death eaters always had tasks appointed to them to prove themselves to the Dark Lord, and Draco could only imagine the worst for his pending task. The Dark Lord waved his right hand in a dismissive manor then looking at Draco fully.

"Draco, I would like a word with you about your first task." He sighed as Draco waited for the rest of the death eaters to clear out along with his mother.

Draco knew that this was it, should he return to Hogwarts for whatever reason it may be, he would have to do what was necessary. There was no room to hesitate, even if he would have to take someone's life that he knew, he would have to follow through with the task, no matter what. The consequences were far too dire, and what scared Draco the most, were he to fail, he would be killing his mother too.

Not that he was going to fail like his pathetic excuse of a father. He knew he was going to do whatever asked of him, because he was not the good guy. He was not some sniffling Hufflepuff nor was he some obnoxiously brave Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy was a true cold Slytherin, down to the very definition, he thought to himself. Even with those thoughts, he could not help but swallow the sudden brush of fear for his mother, and allowed the dark hopelessness to sink in.

Monday August 26, 1996

During the Morning

With a trivial flourish of Hermione's wand, she apparited from her bedroom, with a small gasp and a bend of her knees required, landing in two inches of murky brown water. Even though she was not supposed to use magic while under the trace, Professor Dumbledore, told her during last term, that her trace was going to lift early. Asking why, he informed her that in her third year, when she was using the time turner, she was still aging. Besides, her birthday was in just under three weeks, not that it actually mattered.

In one arm, she held several bags and in the other was Crookshanks, her half-Kneazle half-cat, perched against her hip. Once she felt the water seeping into her shoes, it forced her to look down at them with an inward groan, as she started to trudge past the tall wispy golden grass. When she looked up, in the distance she could make out The Burrow, it was just as she remembered it last time she was here. It being just a diminutive stroll away, she started walking, her smile widened when she saw Ron, he was giving an annoyed gesture towards Molly, his mother. As Molly went inside Ron started towards the house too.

"Ronald!" she shouted across the almost endless patch of grass, she then continued to schlep with her bags, dropping her cat upon the ground, which raced towards the house. Finally making her way to the opening just in front of the house, she looked up at Ron.

"Merlin, you have no idea how great it is to see you 'Mione." He laughed running quickly towards her. "Mum's been driving us all mad." She scoffed lightly shaking her head as he reached for her bags taking some of them they then continuing towards the Burrow.

"I reckon she's entitled to act however she'd like, especially with what's been going on inside the Ministry of Magic itself lately." She stated with a mocking laugh. "You cannot honestly tell me you haven't noticed. My parents are worried too and they're muggles." Ron gave an exasperated sigh then looked down at Hermione opening the front door for her, as Crookshanks pushed past them inside.

"I in fact have noticed. Look let's just talk about this later, right now mum will want to see you." She noticed apparent worry tied into the creases that rested besides his eyes.

'Oh Ron…'she thought sadly, with a small sigh. They both knew that there was a storm coming. Everyone did, mentioning it was unsettling and ultimately avoided at all costs, this time not being an exception. Hermione exhaled loudly as Molly came down the stairs and around the corner. Her features brightened immediately, as she laughed loudly.

"Hermione!" she grabbed the younger girl into a tight squeeze, pulling back to see her face, resting her hands upon Hermione's shoulders. "It's wonderful to see you dear." Hermione smiled softly, she could see that Molly was stressed and slightly out of it.

"It's wonderful to be here, thank you so much for having me here Mrs. Weasley." She said, even though she knew Molly was completely fine with it. "I really should go upstairs and unpack." Molly nodded, giving her a small smile as her and Ron made their way to the top guest room. Once upstairs Hermione tossed her bag on the bed closest the window, closed her eyes, and then proceeded to pinch the bridge of her nose.

These past few weeks had been extremely difficult for everyone, and Hermione acknowledged her challenges to the required degree. Persuading her muggle parents that not only was Hogwarts still a safe place, but also explaining the somewhat negligible attempted attacks from within the Ministry of magic should not cause them to worry. Even though her parents were non-magic folk, they always strived to stay well informed about what was happening within their daughters other world, hesitant at first to let her resume her studies at Hogwarts, which faintly annoyed Hermione. Overall, she understood completely.

Dropping her hands to her side, before she began thinking too much, she examined the known petite area, causing herself to smile softly at some of the memories held within the confines of the room. Turning around towards Ron whom watched her with a faint similar twist of his somewhat chapped lips, she rolled her eyes. She could tell when there was something wrong with him and Harry for the matter, but also knew if she pushed then there would be a rather pointless argument.

"You can talk to me about it, you know?" She said quietly, breaking the silence. Not making eye contact with him, she glanced slightly to see his reaction. He just gave a noncommittal shrug with a loud sigh. Ron then placed the remaining luggage by the door giving her a stiff nod of understanding.

"I know thanks…" He mumbled then slowly tugged the door closed behind him. Leaving Hermione to reexamine her thoughts, which had lately become more time consuming and exerting, she sat upon her bed lightly chewing upon her bottom lip.

With an inflated moan to herself, she grabbed her red bag with gold accents, placing it into her lap then proceeded to take out Hogwarts: A History, ultimately her favorite wizarding book.

Setting the book upon the bed slowly, her eyes traced the patterns from the bedding she then continued to pull out her pajamas. Her door pushed open slightly, as Hermione lay down forwards upon her stomach, about to open the perfectly cared for and certainly loved book. Looking at her cat who stalked towards the bed as Hermione turned her attention back to her book. She was about to open it once more, when a slapping plop made her jump with a squeak.

Looking over the side of the bed, she saw her cat upon the bedside table, and then noticed a newspaper that had fallen from the bedside table, with its signature, The Daily Prophet sprawled across the top neatly. Bending down she grabbed the paper out of curiosity, wanting to see what the headlines read.

Hermione then proceeded to unfold the paper, looking at the flashes of moving images. The headline read, 'Askban's Latest Resident'. Inside the dancing picture stood a dirty, almost broken Lucius Malfoy holding up a number. The flashing camera caused him to blink, with a scowl tied into his older worn features.

Disgusted by him she looked over the rest of the front page, going down to a smaller headline. 'Fallen from Grace', The Malfoy's attend public trial'.

In the other picture, stood an older woman, whom Hermione decided was Narcissa Malfoy, looking crisp and fine. Not a single hair was out of place, she noted, and studied Narcissa's facial expression, which was almost broken with humiliation. She could not help but feel sympathetic towards the older witch.

Then her eyes landed upon the other person in the photograph. A familiar platinum blonde, with a completely dreadful scowl, that turned into an almost vacant expression. Hermione examined the youngest Malfoy. She sighed deciding he was looking quiet thin, yet at the same time definitely built. Even through the stress, she could see his quiet perfectly sculpted features, with an impeccable jaw line. Draco Malfoy was without a doubt, devilishly handsome, she noted.

If Malfoy had not been a positively foul arse towards her, she would have attempted to be friends with him. Of course, that particular idea was ludicrous. She sighed looking towards Draco's slightly parted lips. Wondering what exactly would they feel like upon hers-

Hermione's eyes widened at that thought, shooting up off the bed as far away from the paper as she could manage, away from the tempting blonde Slytherin. Her sudden movements startled poor Crookshanks whom was lying upon a small sofa besides the balcony. Bringing her hands towards her warm flushed cheeks, she tried to push his mysterious dark physique out of her mind.

'What in Merlin's name is that matter with you? This is the pureblooded zealot whom tortured you back at school. He is nothing more than an arse, he is. He's bloody Malfoy!' She growled aloud to herself, and then dropped one hand, bringing the back of her right hand to feel her forehead. 'Definitely warm. The flu maybe.' She huffed, relaxed her hand at her side. Then clenching her eyes tightly, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in her stomach. 'Hopefully...' she thought, opening her eyes she saw the offending paper. Reaching out towards it, she folded it back up and set it back upon the night table. Seeing Malfoy's face again, she sucked in a mouthful of air, and harshly flipped the paper over.

"I- I just need some air, that's it. Feeling a bit under the weather is all." She grumbled, feeling extremely queasy. Hermione then made her to her door, escaping the room as quickly as she could. Shoving any thoughts of, him, out of her mind.