A/N: Hello all, I'm back after my first year of college. Wow crazy to say! But I was going over some old files and I found this story that I've been working on for quite some time. Like there's already 20k words written, including the ending. So with that said, I will say now at the very start that the ending is finalized now, which is something I don't usually do! Anyway, this story is AU DH, with a few minor things changed (as you will see in the first chapter). Most questions regarding that will be answered in the first two or so chapters, if not I'll be sure to clear anything up. So, on with the story! Enjoy and review review review. :)

She was tired.

Hermione Granger sat in the library, her arms sore from holding large tomes for nearly eight hours straight. Her eyes were sandy and she kept rubbing them, trying to revive some moisture. Madame Pince had left about three hours ago. She had learned months ago that Hermione was stubborn and wasn't going to leave when she did. Of course, Headmistress McGonagall had stepped in and given the head girl special privileges to ease the mistress of the library's qualms.

The grandfather clock near the entrance rang twelve times. It was midnight. Hermione groaned and shut A Sorcerer's Guide to the Dark Arts. She had spent nearly two months since the start of the school year reading everything possible on Horcruxes. That was a hot button issue for her. Hermione's two best friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had disappeared in August to find the last few dark objects that were the key to Lord Voldemort's defeat. They had left Hermione in a dangerous spot. She was a muggle born, a mudblood. Now a days bearing that title on the street could be the difference between life and death. Not at Hogwarts. Hogwarts had became a safe haven, however safety is relative. Even with Minerva McGonagall at the head, Death Eaters had a funny way of showing up.

Hermione picked up her heavy bag, her new book clutched in her arms. She cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders, trying to soothe the ever present tension. She made sure her wand was not lit when she blew out the last candle on her table. Darkness washed over the library. "Lumos." Hermione murmured. The halls were deserted and eerily silent. Hermione put out her wand, deciding remaining hidden was better. That is, until she saw a figure move in the shadows.

She froze.

Fear trickled into her body and she clutched her wand a little tighter.

"Who-Who's there?" She called shakily. Silently this time, she illuminated her wand. She let out a tiny yelp when the light fell on a brutish man standing before her. He was wearing a black cloak and his filthy teeth glinted.

"What do we 'ave 'ere, a mudblood?" He grunted. Hermione dropped the book to the floor with a squeak. He lunged forward, resulting in Hermione stumbling back.

"Sorcerer's guide ta de dark arts?" He guffawed. "What's a li'tle girly like 'ou doing wiff it?"

She watched him advance, then her back was against the wall. He was so close his putrid breath was infiltrating her nose. Hermione cringed. "P-please, leave me alone!"

"Why? Is the li'tle mudblood scared?"

"Get off." Hermione snapped, pushing him to no avail as fear and anger coalesced. Her wand fell to the floor and her arms were pinned against the wall. "Please, get off." She felt his knee go between her legs. "Stop!"

There was a noise. Then silently a jet of red light flew through the air. The man froze, then slumped to the ground. Hermione was breathing heavy. She looked up to see her savior, but he was gone. Hermione glanced at the Death Eater at her feet and squeaked. She waved her wand and ropes flew from the tip, binding the man. She aimed a hard kick at his head, grabbed her things and ran. She ran so fast her legs hurt, but they hurt even worse when she slammed into what felt like a brick wall. She fell back onto her back, her head slapping the concrete floor with an audible thunk. Her vision blurred and she gasped as little silver dots clouded her eyes. She blinked several times, clearing them from her sight as her head throbbed with agony. Before her, in the faint glow of the moon, stood a man with strikingly pale hair. Hermione gasped and sat up so fast her head swam and her vision returned to the cloudy state.

"You," She hissed. Hermione reached over and grabbed her wand. Her right arm shook violently and she thought, why can't I catch a break?

"Get up, mudblood." Draco Malfoy growled, using the toe of his clearly expensive shoes to prod her foot.

Hermione scooted backward, until her hand could caress the stone wall.

"I'll kill you, I swear." Hermione threatened weakly. Malfoy knew just as well as she did that that was a lie. Hermione Granger wouldn't kill him. He scoffed and felt the rage boil inside him, along with the inexplicable urge to get her to safety.

"I said get up." He spat. Malfoy lunged forward and grabbed the shoulder of her robes. Hermione let out a tiny howl of pain when she was yanked up. Hermione's left hand shot out and she clawed at his pale face. Malfoy grabbed her wrist and squeezed.

"Stop." He demanded harshly. Hermione scowled.

"Let me go." Hermione snarled, thrashing against his vice grip. Malfoy put both of her bony wrists in his left hand. He bent down and picked up her bag and book. In an interesting turn of character he hung the bag around her neck and put her wand in her hand.

"Go. Granger, run. There are more coming and they will not be as forgiving as I have been." He warned coldly. Hermione was frozen in disbelief. "Go!"

Hermione took off down the corridor in a sprint. She looked back once and saw Malfoy had left. She made it to her head dormitory quickly. She walked through the dark head common room, said the password to her bedroom, and didn't stop until that door was shut. She used another protection charm, on top of all the others, for safety.

There were three candles lit in her room. She set the book down on her bed, then her bag on the chair near her desk. Hermione thought about showering, but the exhaustion became unbearable. She collapsed into her warm bed, her robes still on. The night had been bizarre to say the least.

That night, Hermione's dreams were filled with her memories from the night Harry and Ron left her.

"They are coming." Kingsley's Patronus disappeared and the chaos began.

Hermione froze, her beaded bag securely in her grasp. She slowly, agonizingly slowly, turned to face Harry and Ron. Ginny Weasley moved behind Harry, her hand slipping into his and squeezing. Suddenly, the room erupted.

"Bill, Fleur!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, her arms flying up as she ran toward the newlyweds.

"Harry you cannot be here." Mr. Weasley said, his wand outstretched.

"We can go into the Burrow, the bunker!" Hermione shrieked.

Earlier in the summer, the Weasley's had created an enlarged shelter underneath ground that acted like a bunker of sorts. It was hidden under shrubbery, with a small circular latch that could only be lifted by those granted access. Hermione grabbed the hands of her two best friends and they took off in a dead sprint out of the wedding. Ginny shot Harry a fleeting look before running off to defend her family.

Hermione's heels dug into the grass causing her ankles to twist and she collapsed, falling to the ground. Harry and Ron lifted her arms up while Hermione struggled to kick off her strappy high heels. Above, the sky had turned dark. Gray, ominous clouds rolled in and the cracks of apparition sounded like cannon fire.

The trio made it to the shrubs and Ron lunged forward, groping the leaves for the trap door. He found it swiftly and flung it open. Without a second glance, he dropped down into the darkness. Hermione peered in just as Ron's wand lit up the small area.

"Go, Mione," Harry murmured.

"No," She said harshly. "You're the one they're after. Go on."

Hermione nudged him toward the door. His green eyes regarded her carefully before he too dropped into the bunker. Hermione's periwinkle dress was spotted with mud and grass stains and her hair was falling out of its carefully crafted updo. She bit her lip—a nervous habit of hers. With a final glance backward, she caught sight of Death Eaters advancing on the tent. Hermione let her feet dangle for a brief second before dropping out of view. The two seconds she was in the air were petrifying, but her feet slammed onto the ground quickly. The force caused her to crumple to the stone floor and she gasped.

In the darkness, Harry flicked his wand and the trap door slammed shut, a faint blue glow misting around it for a moment. Hermione got to her feet and groped for her wand in the blackness. Light illuminated the bunker from the candles and torches along the wall.

Hermione did a brief over view of the room and grimaced. It wasn't the nicest; the walls were earthy, the floor stone, and it was cold. However, there were at least ten beds on the far side of the room. Mrs. Weasley had stocked one area with non-perishable foods and there was a small bathroom.

"I love magic," murmured Harry, walking up beside Hermione.

"How long are we going to have to stay here?" She whispered.

He glanced at Ron who shrugged. "Until we receive word it's clear."

"Well, I've got a change of clothes while we're down here," said Hermione briskly. She opened her beaded bag and pulled out clothes for the three of them.

"How the bloody hell did you do that?" Ron sputtered.

"Undetectable Extension Charm."

Some time later, Mr. Weasley's patronus ordered them to stay put since the family was being watched. They occupied themselves by discussing, freely for once, Horcruxes. Finally, exhaustion overcame the trio and they dispersed to the beds.

When Hermione woke up the next morning she was alone. Her beaded bag was missing and her heart ached. A small slip of parchment was floating next to her pillow. It stated, "We have to do this, you're safer at school. We love you."

How wrong they had been.

Hermione woke up the next morning, feeling unrested. That wasn't a foreign feeling, for it was rare Hermione ever go a good nights rest. In fact, she would wager she got about three hours of sleep in total. It was enough, however, to get her up out of bed. She showered and got dressed in a clean set of robes. She misplaced her tie and left shoe, however. Hermione growled in frustration when she realized she had torn a hole in her sock. This was clearly not her day, but then again what day was?

She tugged on her skirt and felt naked with her bare legs exposed to the chilly November air. The small fireplace in her bedroom was roaring, but still her fingertips were icy. She pulled her hair into a sloppy bun at the base of her neck, managed to button her shirt properly, then finally she came across her tie. Hermione had given up on coordination so she used magic. In the mirror, she scowled at her reflection. Her cheeks were sunken, her eyes listless with purple circles wearing them down, and her chapped lips did nothing to help her appearance.

At breakfast, everyone was quiet and they kept their heads down. Well, the Slytherin's were as boisterous as always. Hermione glanced up and saw Ginny making her way towards her with Neville. She took a deep gulp of her black coffee and peered over the cup. Her brown eyes caught onto a pair of silver ones and she gasped. Those same silver eyes flashed with something unfamiliar. Hermione flushed and looked down. Had last night really happened?

"Good morning," Ginny muttered. She picked up a piece of buttered toast and glanced hastily at the unfamiliar man in long black robes at the Head Table. "Who's that?"

"Ministry representative." Hermione guessed, not lifting her eyes from her plate of cold eggs. "So one of his lackies."

Ginny made a small noise and ate her breakfast quietly. Hermione's insides started to awaken from the effects of the caffeine. She licked her lips and chose to take her mind off things through some light research before classes. She walked quickly through the hall. People were still wandering to breakfast, late. Hermione was so preoccupied with staring at the floor, she bumped into someone...again. This time she managed to keep her balance and remain on her feet.

"Merlin, mudblood, stop slamming into me." A cold voice drawled. Hermione raised her head slowly and saw Malfoy turning around. Hermione rubbed her forehead furiously.

"Stop standing in the middle of the corridor," She suggested grumpily. He smirked, his molten silver eyes narrowed coldly. "I have to go."

"Aw, so soon?" He taunted.

Hermione tried to quell the rising anger. She had been pushed down and practically oppressed for months now, and all it was going to take was one little word from Malfoy to be her trigger.

"Let me go." She spat when he grabbed her wrist. A familiar sensation washed over her and the memories of the night before played. Her wrist's tingled where his fingers pressed cruelly against her pale flesh.

"And if I don't?"

"I'll hex you so bad, you'll wish you could be a ferret again." She snarled, yanking her arm free. Hermione took a few steps forward, then turned back around. She hesitated, briefly wondering if mentioning it made it more than what it was. "Why do you act like this now, but so differently last night? You saved me, you know."

He paused and pressed his lips into a hard line.

The night before, Malfoy had been called upon to meet up with Dawlish and Dolohov, who were supposed to be infiltrating the castle for the evening. They were cruel, nasty men who Draco would rather never meet in a dark corridor. He had been making his way up to the Astronomy Tower, when he heard Granger screech. He never intended on saving her, but he happened to turn to corner and witness the attack. Frankly, it was a gut reaction to stupefy the assailant. He quickly realized it was Georgiano, a decidedly nasty man who had a proclivity for rape. Draco quickly turned around when he realized he had missed the other Death Eaters, who were now presumably roaming the castle.

That's when Granger quite literally ran into him. He pushed aside his disgust, which was admittedly just second nature and he truly never put any thought into his hatred, and did not kill her. Despite all his short comings, knowing that he could help her escape those men was something he couldn't ignore. Had it been anyone else, he felt he would have left them. There was something so enigmatic about the little mudblood, however. It drove him insane, but again he couldn't ignore it. He hated her, still, but he somehow respected her as much as he could for a mudblood. Well, he respected her enough to save her from a fate of torture and rape.

"Don't remind me." He growled. "And don't expect it to happen again."

Draco turned on the heel of his expensive loafer and stalked in the opposite direction. Damn that fucking mudblood. He stomped angrily into Defense Against the Dark Arts, taught by Snape still. Ironically, the class was a complete waste of time. Snape was teaching it, quickly molding it so the 'Defense Against' part was dropped. McGonagall frequently appeared in the class, to glare coldly at Snape as he reluctantly talked about defensive spells. The Slytherin's took to often ditching the class, to which Snape rarely said anything. Draco himself had heard rumors of an underground Defense class, run by the Order members. His time and energy was best spent elsewhere, anyway, so he ignored the rumors.

Draco took his seat in the very back, his eye's meeting Snape's cold black ones. He frowned slightly at Draco, sending him the we-need-to-talk message with his eyes. Malfoy glowered at the black board behind him and proceeded to tune out the lesson, until Granger stumbled in about midway through.

"You really think it's acceptable to show up to my class thirty minutes late? Twenty points from Gryffindor." sneered Snape.

A hint of color appeared on Hermione's hallowed face as she took her seat next to Neville Longbottom. She bent her head down and desperately wished the floor would swallow her up whole. Draco turned his head away from Granger and back to the board. After the lesson, he made sure to take his time packing up.

"Muffliato," Snape said, pointing his wand at the door. It closed quickly after he flicked his wand.

"Well, did you get Dawlish and Dolohov?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, actually they came in earlier. Georgiano came with them and bloody near killed the mudblood Granger."

"Granger? How?" Snape's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I don't know," said Draco slowly, watching his reaction. "I-I found him stupefied in a corner. Then the stupid mudblood ran into me, she was beaten on and looked in bad shape. But she left."

Snape sat down behind his desk and looked particularly disturbed. Finally, he spoke, "If the Dark Lord sent Georgiano, he certainly wants to do more harm to Hogwarts. He is a very lethal wizard."

Draco felt something settle deep in the pit of his stomach, something that swirled and made him feel ill. He sucked in a large gasp of breath. "Lethal? Was he looking for Granger?"

Snape shook his head. "I'd imagine not, but he landed upon her by chance. But really that silly girl should be much more careful."

"Well, perhaps a world with one less mudblood isn't so bad, after all?" drawled Draco, pulling the cold facade over his face as quickly as it had disappeared.

The words tumbled out of his mouth naturally, yet he felt something shift inside him. A slightly inevitable image of Hermione Granger being tortured before him took over and he shivered. While a world with one less mudblood may not be so bad, a world without that mudblood would be an entirely different one. And not for the better—that he was sure of.