Chapter One

Not again.

Burning. Screams. Blinding sears of pain. Bodies.

"Don't look, Draco…" His mother's pleading voice only served to direct his attention towards the dead…they were everywhere: piled up on the tables in the Great Hall, being pulled into the school, littering the grounds in pieces…

He turned his head to the side and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach onto the grass. The stench was over-powering. They would have to burn their clothes. If only he could burn the images from his brain, as well…

The reassuring hand of his father was on his shoulder, a touch he had not felt in years. He looked up as he wiped his mouth on his ruined suit, searching the eyes that were ever the same shade of grey as his own. He found sympathy, pity, fear, insanity…

His mother gripped his hand tightly, urging him on to the gates. Those who weren't grieving over the dead bodies of their loved ones were holding a macabre celebration in honor of Potter's final defeat of the Dark Lord. The Malfoy family did not belong here.

As his feet followed the path they had trod several times to the main gates of Hogwarts, he stumbled, his shoe connecting with something solid. He looked down.

His own body stared back at him, his eyes wide open with fright, glossed over with death, and his pallid features frozen in a state of shock. As he watched in abject horror, a horde of flies swarmed up out of his dead body's mouth, filling the air with their buzzes, coming straight for his eyes…

Draco tore himself to consciousness with a yell, the echoes of which rebounded off the walls of his room and crashed into his ears, sounding so much like a lost child crying on the street.

He fell back against the sweat-soaked sheets, his throat raw, his heart pounding in his chest. Would he never sleep through another night? Twelve years. It had been twelve years since the Second Wizarding War had ravaged his life, taken everything from him. Twelve years and he still had these nightmares. The awful images began to dissolve into more horrific memories as he took some deep, steadying breaths. He closed his eyes to further block the remnants of blood and death. The waves of nausea began to subside and he heaved a heavy sigh.

He reached up tentatively and felt his cheeks wet with tears. He made a small sound of disgust and sat up quickly, ripping his t-shirt over his head and rubbing furiously at his face, erasing all tracks of his weakness.

Scowling, he threw his shirt across the room and groped blindly for his wand on his nightstand, his sleepy fingers clumsily knocking it into the floor where it clanked against empty bottles of Dreamless Sleep potions. He snorted in derision. Worst investment he'd ever made, he was sure. His "therapist" had told him they would work perfectly to get rid of his sleep-induced anxiety. She was obviously incompetent. Well, at least he could check off another pointless endeavor from his, "Things That Don't Work" list.

This was ridiculous. He was a grown man. Grown men didn't have nightmares, especially not from events that happened over a decade past. He rubbed a tired hand across his forehead, flicking his wand into the air and muttering an incantation. The numbers 6:58 flashed briefly through the air. He was going to be late.

"Bollocks…" He slowly clambered off the bed, air hissing between his teeth as his bare feet met the unforgiving, cold stone of the Manor. His warming spell had already dissipated. It was hard, he reasoned, for his magic to keep up with his nightmares. He was lucky he hadn't grabbed his wand in his sleep this time. Studiously, he ignored the burn mark in the wall just beside his armoire. That had been a bad, bad night. Stifling a yawn, he flicked his wand towards his closet, a pressed suit landing gently on the twisted covers of the bed, a jet-black pair of shoes zooming across the floor to accompany it.

He threw his clothes on and left his room in a post-sleep mess, the knowledge that his elf would fix it all up before he was halfway to the Ministry taking all care from the world. It was odd having paid help around the house these days. Many elves had been offended when the Wizengamot had ruled it prudent to begin to pay them once the War had ended, but many others accepted their new roles with increased vigor, determined to do an even better job since they were receiving weekly wages. The Manor had never been so spotless without a severe beating. It was…nice.

Draco huffed. Such cheery thoughts in the morning were unwarranted. The soft clip of his loafers on the stairs forcefully reminded Draco of just how alone he was right now. It was hard to get used to. His entire life there had at least been his parents here with a bevy of socialites, purebloods, and Death Eater supporters. Now, it was just him, the occasional female guest aside.

With a few lazy flicks of his wand, his breakfast began to prepare itself in the kitchen as he reached for the Daily Prophet still rolled up on the counter. He grimaced at the face smiling up at him from the newsprint and took an unnecessarily vicious bite from his buttered toast as it sailed through the air into his outstretched hand.

Working with Granger…he thought he might just vomit.

The world had changed since his graduation, if you could even call it that. The school governors had offered to send the seventh-years who had missed out on their final year of education to various other Wizarding schools across the globe, but only a few had agreed. Fear and uncertainty had reigned supreme for a long time after the war. Eventually, the Ministry decided, since most of the students had helped in the War in some way, they deserved to graduate regardless of the formal education they hadn't received. The ceremony had been so melancholy.

Draco had never heard of a graduation in which there was no applause.

It had been hard, life after the War. His father had been carted off to Azkaban to serve a three-year sentence. It should have been longer, most people believed, but McGonagall, the strange old woman, had spoken on his family's behalf, claiming that, while she could not deny their support of the Dark Lord, they had not actually fought anyone during the final battle and upon revealing his mother's treachery to the Death Eaters and all of her family, told the world that his family was partially responsible for Harry Potter still being alive today. His shock at the knowledge of his mother's actions, all to know that he was still alive in the castle, still gave him chills. She could have sealed all of their fates with her lie. She could have killed them all.

His father had not lived for long once his sentence was up. The dementors, temporarily increased in number due to the influx of Death Eaters into the Wizard's prison, had quite literally sucked the life from his aging body. The sadness at his father's passing was not inconsequential. Coming so shortly after the War, it had turned Draco into some sort of lifeless being. The few friends he kept – Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, mainly – had their own lives to deal with after the war. Though they were sympathetic, they weren't necessarily the kind of people to offer a shoulder to a grieving friend. The high-society of Pureblood life stressed private grief; problems were kept behind doors at all costs.

Without his father, his mother had gone mad. Refusing to admit her to St. Mungo's and become the gossip of the society she had once owned, Draco removed her to one of their other properties in France. It was quiet in the country there, and she was safe in the care of some Hospice witches. He would visit her as often as he could, more for himself lately than his mother. The nightmares were always worse when he was alone, and no amount of saucy witches warming his bed could make them stay away.

He took another bite of toast, grimacing as the burnt crumbs coated his mouth. Great. Once again his own thoughts had spoiled his appetite. With a flick of his wand, he sent his uneaten scraps into the sink, the plate crashing in afterwards. Giving the buoyant smile of Hermione Granger a look of contempt, Draco rose from his seat and walked over to the fireplace. He was dreading today more than most. It was unfair that after striving for so long to rise above the condescending whispers and hushed allegations, after finally carving out his niche in the Ministry, after spending years rising through the ranks of the Auror program, proving himself time and time again to those who still doubted his loyalties, that after so much time…he was going to have to work with Hermione Granger.

Did he still hate muggleborns? Not really. His biases and prejudices had fallen a bit by the wayside after he realized the true darkness of that path. Once the Dark Lord was vanquished once and for all and Draco realized he really wasn't going to be spending his life in Azkaban with several other members of his family, Draco had done a serious bit of soul searching and life evaluation.

He didn't hate muggleborns. He still thought himself better than them, but he no longer loathed their existence or hungered for them to be punished. They couldn't help being born a mud…muggle…anymore than he could help having blond hair. Genetics did not a witch or wizard make.

No, he didn't hate muggleborns…but Merlin did he hate Hermione Granger.

A pale hand reached into the jar of floo powder that rested on an ornately carved iron stand just to the left of the fireplace. Granger wasn't just a muggleborn. She was an insufferable know-it-all, a self-righteous woman, and a nuisance to anyone who knew her. She had been that way in school and nothing had changed, unless she was more annoying now than she was then. It had been bad enough to pass her in the corridors of the Ministry or, Salazar forbid, having to ride the elevators with her on some occasions. At least then they had been able to ignore each other completely. Now, though, she was going to be working side by side with him. The particulars of this case hadn't been explained as of yet, but Harry Potter, Mr. Potter Draco thought with a mental sneer, had told Draco to be in by 7:00 to discuss.

His grey orbs flicked up to the wall clock hanging above the fireplace. The words "YOU'RE LATE" were flashing in large, neon green letters. Oops.

With a resigned set of his jaw, Draco stepped up onto the brick lining, his closed fist hovering above the ashes. He loathed traveling by floo powder. It was messy, disorienting, and he always ended up with a terrible case of nausea, but the alternative…the muggle way…was unthinkable. Why they had disallowed apparition into the Atrium of the Ministry, Draco would never understand. They could call it "enhanced security" all they wanted, but it was a pain in his arse.

He opened his fist, the green powder sprinkling down around his feet. A grimace graced his handsome features as a few flakes landed on his shoes. What a bloody fucking wonderful start to the day he was having. He clenched his eyes shut as the green flames whooshed around him, teasing the exposed flesh on his hands, face, and neck with a slight tickling sensation. Why couldn't the whole journey feel like that? He tightened his grip on his wand as he opened his mouth, careful not to breathe in any of the dust.

"Ministry of Magic!" he stated forcefully and clearly. A split-second to brace himself before the familiar, and incredibly uncomfortable, feeling of the floor sweeping out from under his feet knocked into Draco, and he began to spin around and around. He felt, and nearly heard, the sounds of numerous other fireplaces whizzing by, but he didn't open his eyes until the sounds of scores of feet on tile met his ears. He held his arms out just in time, feeling himself do one last flip out of the floo and into the Ministry of Magic.

He regained his footing without trouble and pushed down the nausea that threatened to bubble up in his stomach. Pausing for just a second to siphon away the dirt and dust that had turned his black suit to a dusty grey, Draco joined the crowd towards the multiple sets of elevators waiting on the other end of the lobby. Potter wouldn't be happy Draco was late, but what was he going to do? Fire him? A laughable thought.

Ignoring his fellow patrons, Draco shook his head slowly side to side. He knew he was the most important asset to the Aurors. He knew the ways of dark wizards inside and out. There had been those who assumed that once the Dark Lord was gone for good, his followers would disperse or change their ways soon thereafter. They were all naïve and incompetent. Though it was true that there had been several conversions in the aftermath of the War, the harsh reality was that a lot of those who supported You-Know-Who, Draco still could not bring himself to say his name, continued to believe in the old ways. They had severed the head of the proverbial snake, but the body did not die. Generations of prejudice and cognitive grooming did not simply fade away from most. No, they were still out there – those dissenters who hated muggle-borns and wanted them weeded out, once and for all, from the magical bloodline.

The elevator dinged and the musical lilt of the feminine announcer washed over Draco as he thought back to those he had already hunted down. There was no massive army to fight and 'The Remnant,' as they had taken to calling themselves, were not as bold as the Death Eaters had been; but there were still muggle killings, there were still terrorist acts, and the latest news was they were attempting a mass meeting to enact some truly awful plot, a plot the ministry was desperate to get its hands on.

Draco assumed that was what Potter was going to talk to him about today. He was itching for it. It had been months since he had last been on leave for an assignment of any sort, and office work did nothing for his psyche. He had to keep busy. He had to keep moving. Every dark wizard or witch he caught brought him that much more peace of mind, that one step closer to final redemption.

The disembodied voice announced his floor, and Draco let out the breath he had been holding. Yes, he wanted a mission. He wanted to catch someone, kill something; he needed it. But was it worth it? Was it really worth having to work with his most hated peer?

Granger…

He turned the corner and moved steadily down the hall, his wand now stowed securely in his front pocket. As he reached Potter's office door, he faintly heard two voices talking in hushed tones inside. He paused, recognizing his superior's voice - the thought made him cringe - and a soft feminine cadence accompanying him. Taking a deep breath, Draco twisted the doorknob, finding it unlocked.

Potter better know what he's doing.

Hermione Granger held her head high as she walked across the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic that Wednesday morning. Her classically unruly curls were pinned back in a careful style that left only a few oaken tendrils to frame her face. Her attire was neither too dressy, nor casual. She looked, and felt, good.

It had been a long summer, but not an awful one. A simple smile graced her mouth as she remembered flashes of Harry and Ginny's wedding. Harry had looked dashing in his tuxedo, and Ginny was an angel in her dress, the train so long it had taken several levitation spells to keep it off the ground.

As she passed the fountain, Hermione paused in her steps and her thoughts to appreciate the artistry. She had seen this fountain in two other forms previously. The original had been fine, the Dark Lord's version had been terrible, but this one she absolutely loved. Instead of purely magical creatures, or the oppression of muggles, this was simple: a globe; a globe of the entire world to show that they were all pieces of a whole. Beneath it was inscribed in shimmering gold: The Fate Of One Is The Fate Of All.

It had been Harry's idea, she remembered. She sighed happily, a new spring in her step, as she continued on towards the elevators. She would not think about her first partner at her new job. She would not. Oh, who was she kidding? The fact that Hermione Granger, the smartest muggle-born to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts, was going to be working on a dangerous case with Draco Malfoy, the bigoted, prejudiced sleaze of the Wizarding world, was not much of a secret – or something she could avoid.

A slight frown twisted her lips as she joined the small queue standing before the golden gates of the elevators. She had begged Harry for anyone else, but he had promised the case to Draco years ago, before it had even cropped up and since, technically, Draco was her superior, there wasn't much she could do about it. Ugh. Her superior, indeed. The only reason Malfoy had a higher job than Hermione, was that he had been in the Auror's office since they had taken their final exams, which admittedly was a bit unorthodox given the circumstances of their seventh year in school.

She sighed as the doors slid open and she joined the few other witches and wizards. At least Harry was the head of the Auror office. Surely, as Malfoy's boss, he could do something to make the prat behave. It had been a long time since Hermione had spoken to Malfoy, and she wanted to keep it that way. She knew he had "changed" since their Hogwarts days, otherwise Harry would never have allowed him a job at the office, and she knew his past was extremely beneficial to catching those wizards and witches who still held to some semblance of the Dark beliefs in muggle inferiority, but she didn't trust him. Years of prejudice and bigotry do not simply vanish at the drop of a hat because you want them to. Her jaw set with determination as the doors slid open once more and the disembodied voice said, "Level Two." She knew Malfoy was up to something.

She knew it in the heart of her being, and she was going to find out what.

With a heavy sigh, she pulled her small handbag further up her shoulder. Despite her intelligence, she was not cut out to be deceptive. Her brain functioned in the realm of facts, not suspicion. She was no stranger to dark magic – she had, after all, hunted Horcruxes with Harry and Ron - and was there any darker magic than the splitting of one's soul to gain immortality? It had been difficult, but more than manageable. Her companions had been her two very best friends in the entire world, and she trusted them implicitly with her life. Draco? Not so much. She was going on an extremely dangerous mission, the details still unclear, with a man who had hated her since they first met, simply because of her blood - something she could not control or choose, even if she wanted to. How was she supposed to trust him with watching her purse, let alone with her life?

Her lips fell into a deeper scowl as the elevator stopped on Harry's floor. Well, she'd just have to be the bigger person. There was no need to even wonder if Draco would be pleasant, that was asking far too much of her imagination. She would just smile, be cheery, and give him absolutely no reason to complain to Harry, or anyone else in the Auror office for that matter, of her behavior or cooperation. She would prove herself to be the most valuable team member, even if it was Draco she would have to answer to.

She took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and walked confidently down the hall to Harry's door. For a brief moment, she paused and looked up at the embossed, golden plaque on the door: "Mr. H. Potter – Head Auror." A broad smile erased the worry lines on her forehead and turned her lips up at the corners. It didn't matter how long he worked here or how much he had accomplished, she would forever see Harry as the awkward teenager, hair always askew, glasses always broken, and all the responsibility of the world on his shoulders. They had been through so much together. It was incredible that they had survived, let alone risen through the ranks of their world to be so successful. Truly, it was a more perfect future than Hermione had ever envisioned.

With a firm nod to herself, she knocked three firm rasps on the door.

"Come in."

Her smile widened at his voice. How was she supposed to take working for Harry seriously? She clamped her lips tightly together to stop the threatening laughter from escaping before she walked inside, her eyes lighting up instantly as they found the bright green orbs behind the spectacles of Harry Potter.

"Hermione!" Harry pushed away from his wide, oaken desk and strode across the room, enveloping her in his arms and lifting her off the ground in a big bear hug. The laughter escaped then and echoed around the room.

"Harry! Put me down! Oh, this is so unprofessional!"

His bark of a laugh joined hers as he set her back on her feet, his hands still grasping her shoulders.

"It's so good to see you, Hermione. I've been bored off my arse for weeks! 'Mr. Potter, sign this. Mr. Potter, go to this function.' It's all I hear!"

"Well, you are the Head Auror, Mr. Potter," she replied, her voice stern, her eyes belying her seriousness. "You are the most important person here at the Ministry."

"Oh, shove off, Hermione." His grin widened at their easy banter. Hermione knew it had been too long since they had last spent real time together. With Harry always stuck at the office with work, Hermione always bouncing from one country to another as a liaison for the Ministry, and Ron always experimenting on new joke products with George, there was little to no time for anything else. It was a lot of work, but the Wizarding world was finally back on its feet and the Ministry was purged of all its corruption. They had taken the mess that Voldemort's power had wrought, cleaned it up, and completely revamped the Ministry to a purer state.

"I'll 'shove off' when you tell me what this assignment is and why, exactly, I have to work with him."

"Come on, Hermione. Not you, too?"

"What do you mean 'too'?"

Harry sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, causing the jet-black strands to stick up in odd places, just as it always had. It was quite endearing.

"I'm just tired of hearing about the pairing for this assignment. You'd think I hadn't thought it through enough, as much as everyone badgers me on about it."

"It is a bit odd, Harry," Hermione pointed out diplomatically. "It's no secret that Malfoy and I don't exactly get on well…or ever have."

"I know. I know. But this is going to be tough, Hermione." He looked at her seriously, his green eyes flashing with worry and determination. "This is the most dangerous mission we've had since I came into the office. I promised Draco years ago that when we got to this point, I'd give him lead, but he needs good back up. You're still the brightest witch, you know."

She rolled her eyes at the flattery.

"Yes, I know how brilliant I am, Harry. I just don't understand what's so dangerous. What are we doing? Where are we going?"

"I'd rather just wait and tell you once Draco gets here so I don't have to repeat myself, if you don't mind."

She held her hands up in a gesture of acceptance. With a shrug, she rid herself of her jacket and levitated it across the room to the coat stand, which promptly grabbed it out of the air. A glance at her watch confirmed the knowledge that Draco was late. What a surprise.

"I suppose I might as well sit. I see Malfoy's concern for punctuality hasn't changed in the slightest."

Harry sighed again as he retook his seat behind the desk, his wand flicking aimlessly at a pile of papers that began to sort themselves into several bins to the side. "Please, Hermione. Just give him a chance, okay? Believe me, it was hard for me to accept him at first, but he really has changed. He's done a whole lot for this department; he's caught a lot of the former Death Eaters that were at large and has rounded up a lot of The Remnant, too. All without giving away his identity so he can keep getting back into their ranks. He is the best double agent since Severus."

Hermione shook her head. "You can say that all you want, Harry, but until I see with my own eyes that he's not going to treat me like something filthy stuck to his knickers, I won't believe it." She took a seat opposite Harry and crossed her legs delicately over one another. "The past speaks louder than anything else at this point. I'll listen to him and I'll respect him, but you can't expect more from me than that."

Harry nodded, conceding the point. "Fair enough." His hands disappeared into a drawer briefly as he pulled out a manila folder, fat with papers. With a loud thunk, he tossed it onto the center of the desk. Hermione's eyebrows rose slightly as she read the upside-down label: "Authorized View Only." That was certainly interesting.

"Is that – "

"Nuh-uh. Not until Malfoy gets here, I said."

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine, fine. Hopefully he'll actually turn up soon because I didn't come here early to –"

The door opening interrupted her sentence. Her body tensed automatically as Harry rose again from behind his desk. "Morning, Draco," he said cordially. Hermione's eyelids slid shut as she braced herself for the voice she hadn't heard in a long, long time.

"Morning, Mr. Potter."

She shifted her body to cover the wince. He still sounded like Draco Malfoy just…deeper. It was as if any second he would start hurling insults at her with that classic sneer on his face. Harry walked around the desk and offered his hand to Malfoy who stood just out of sight.

"If you'd like to take a seat, I'll get started so this can get under way as soon as possible."

Draco sat down in the chair beside Hermione's and it was like someone had turned on an air conditioner just on that part of her body. She could feel his icy stare going all the way through her. She turned and found herself face to face with his grey gaze. Oh, yeah. It was still the same ol' Malfoy.

Remember what you promised yourself, Hermione.

Struggling with all her might, Hermione managed a polite nod. He didn't return it. Well, had she really expected him to? Resigning herself to this horrible meeting, she turned and focused all of her attention on Harry. She could ignore Malfoy for this briefing and then corner him in the hallway to set everything straight. They may hate each other, but she would not allow those feelings to compromise the mission they had to complete. Work came first – always.

Draco locked his jaw to keep his tongue in check. He hadn't expected it to be this hard to sit beside her and not say something insulting, if only to provoke her. Old habits died hard, he supposed. He noted the tenseness of her posture as she fidgeted in the chair next to him. Apparently she was just as uncomfortable with this assignment as he. That was good. Maybe he could use that to his advantage. It was instinct to find the weakness of his adversary and exploit it. Even if Granger was on his team for this, she was no friend of his. He didn't doubt her competence, he knew how brilliant she was, but being smart and good with spells didn't always count so much on these missions. One had to be discreet, deceptive, and cunning, all things that Draco had been bred to do since birth. Was it in Granger's capacity to do those things? Somehow, he doubted it.

"So, what's this big secret assignment?" He asked Harry. The big file had definitely caught his attention as soon as he walked in. "I'm assuming we've found a new way to infiltrate The Remnant?"

"Well, sort of. You're still trusted in their circle, right?"

Draco half-shrugged. "Mostly. The innermost loop is still closed off to me. Too many of them remember that my dear mother directly lied to the Dark Lord. Granted, they don't believe the sins of the parents pass on to the son, but they are still too wary to let me in on every little secret and detail." It was extremely frustrating. Living a double life such as this was not an easy task, but Draco felt he was doing a fair job. Every day his thoughts strayed to Severus Snape and how he had done the exact same thing. It was the one thought that kept him grounded, sometimes. Yes, Severus had died in a most unpleasant manner, but he had been a huge asset to the Order of the Phoenix, even though none of them had truly trusted him until the end – save Dumbledore, of course.

"Right. Well, we've discovered the location of this big meeting they've been planning."

"I already told you it was going to be in the States."

"Yes, but we had to double check. We always double check, Draco."

He nodded.

"Wait, the States? As in the United States?"

"No, Granger, the States of Dark Magic," he answered sarcastically. And he thought she was the 'brightest witch of their age' and all that. Clearly, that didn't count towards common sense.

"Draco."

He sighed at the warning in Harry's tone. There was no helping it.

"Sorry."

He wasn't.

Harry nodded anyway and continued, "Yes, Hermione. The Remnant has apparently decided that anywhere in or near England or Scotland is too risky. We've got them paranoid, and rightly so, so they're looking for new, unconventional places to hold large meetings such as this. They've never gone to the United States before, so they figure we won't expect it." A slight glint twinkled in his eyes. "They're wrong."

Hermione's fingers began a very annoying tapping rhythm on the arm of her chair and it was all Draco could do to not yell at her to stop. What was wrong with him? He certainly hadn't expected this much hatred. This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. "That makes sense, I suppose. The element of surprise is often a winning tactic in battles."

"Right. So, you two are going to travel to the States and try to get inside the group and find out what this big plot is they've kept under wraps for so long."

"Uh, what? You're joking, right?"

"No, Draco, I'm not joking. Is there a problem?"

"Well, yeah." He jerked a thumb in Granger's direction. "She isn't exactly inconspicuous. Everyone in the Wizarding world knows who she is and what she looks like. There's no way in hell they're going to just let her waltz on in like it's no big deal." This was ridiculous.

"Obviously. That's why your first task is to track down Pansy Parkinson. Once she is captured, her hair will be added to a month's supply of Polyjuice potion. Hermione will be going with you in disguise."

Draco stopped and thought about it. Truthfully, it actually wasn't a bad idea. It would be a bit tricky at first, because Granger didn't know the first thing about imitating Pansy, but his old childhood friend had never been captured by the Ministry and so was still completely trusted in the darker group. He looked sideways at the brunette beside him. She didn't look too happy about that prospect, but didn't complain either. He wondered if she knew the nuances of his and Pansy's relationship and how they would be expected to act around each other. Fantastic.

He rubbed a hand over his forehead. This was already giving him a headache. "Has there been any word on where Pansy is right now?"

Harry shook his head. "Not even a whisper. It'll be up to you, Draco, to locate her. You two go way back. I'm sure you'll have an easier time of it than anyone else."

"Well, let's get to it then, shall we?"

Draco looked incredulously at Granger as she stood up. "Wait, wait, wait. I don't think I need you for this part. I can handle Pansy on my own."

Hermione scowled and fixed him with her classic stare. "Unfortunately for you, we're partners in this, which means I go where you go." She was not going to start this out letting him boss her around and push her out of everything. "The way I see it, this whole thing depends on securing her and getting her hair. That means I'm coming with you to ensure it gets done properly." She felt a small bit of satisfaction as Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation.

"Fine. Let's just go." He stood and briefly offered his hand to Harry in goodbye before he turned on his heel and swept from the room. Hermione watched him go, a bad taste in her mouth. This was going to be extremely unpleasant.

"You better go, Hermione," Harry said. "I don't think he plans on waiting for you."

She sighed and grimaced briefly in his direction. "I suppose you're right." In quick strides she edged around his desk and wrapped her arms around his neck in a swift hug before grabbing her bag and coat. "Bye, Harry," she hollered over her shoulder as she rounded the doorway into the hallway, barely catching a glimpse of Malfoy's retreating back boarding the elevator.

"Oh no you don't," she muttered under her breath and she took off at a fast jog to reach the golden grates just before they slid shut. It was just the two of them inside. She huffed out a breath as they began to move. "This is just going to be more awful if you start trying to escape from me at every turn, Malfoy."

He choked out a laugh. "Yes, because I'm sure you are so eager to be in my company."

Hermione growled and brandished her wand around in a circle, causing the elevator to screech to a stop. Draco eyed her warily. Good. He needed to be aware of how dangerous she could be. She took a step towards him, closing the distance between their bodies, getting right up in his face. "Now you listen to me, Malfoy. I know that you don't want to work with me, and you better believe I sure as hell don't want to work with you, but we're both going to have to just suck it up and deal, because that's the situation we're in. We're going to be immersed in some dangerous situations together and if I can't trust you to have my back, we're going to be in a mess of trouble before we can say 'Quidditch.' Everyone keeps telling me how much you've changed, but I don't see it. All I see when I look at you is that pale-faced, pointy-nosed prat who bullied me and all of my friends at school. I still see the Death Eater." She chose to ignore the way his right hand strayed towards his left arm. "You don't have to prove yourself to me, because I trust Harry and his judgment, but I swear to Merlin if you start pushing me out and leaving me behind, I will make your life a living hell for as long as we're partners. Do you understand me?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, his chest heaving with rage at being addressed in such a manner. Who the hell did Granger think she was? No one talked to him like that. No one.

"No, you listen to me, Granger. I have busted my ass for this Ministry. I have risked my neck over and over to bring down some seriously dangerous wizards and witches all to make our world a little safer for people like you. So don't you dare climb up on your high horse and tell me how you see me. I don't give a flying fuck, to be perfectly honest, what you think about me. I'm in charge of this mission. I decide what you do and where you go. No one else, me. So before you get in my face and make false accusations of my motives and personality, check yourself. I won't tolerate that kind of blatant disrespect. Is that clear?"

Hermione swallowed. Okay, that was fairly terrifying. His eyes were flashing with anger and rage and she could feel the tension in his body as he struggled not to reach for his wand. She stiffened her posture and shoved her wand back into her pocket, the elevator beginning to descend back down to the Atrium once again. With a step back, she increased the distance between them. Her head bobbed once in a conceding nod. He was right, to a point.

"Fine."

"Good." As soon as the doors slid open, he exited, heading straight for the row of fireplaces along the opposite wall.

"Where are we going?"

"The Manor. I've got to get a couple things together before we go after our target."

Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek as she considered that. She hadn't been inside the Manor since that horrible night when Bellatrix…she shivered slightly and rubbed the inside of her left arm. The irony of the placement of those scars did not go past her. That awful woman had picked the spot on purpose, she knew.

"Do you have any idea where she might be?"

Draco grabbed a fistful of floo powder and stood before the grate as he considered answering her. Well, they were partners, right? So, she should know what he knew, as much as he wanted to just hex her and leave…

"I'm not one-hundred percent, sure, but I'm going to hazard a guess that she's still lurking around London somewhere. She's not very brave, but she's not stupid, either. She'll want to stay close to her family, but not so close that the Ministry can locate her."

Hermione nodded as she grabbed her own powder and stood at the next fireplace down. "See you in a bit, then."

Draco didn't answer. He stepped among the ashes, declared his destination, and got swept away towards his home. As he spun around in the strange dimension of travel, he gritted his teeth. He had known that working with Granger was going to be difficult, but he hadn't counted on his entire body rebelling against her presence. How was he going to survive this? When he exited his own fireplace and dusted himself off, he instantly knew something was wrong. There was no physical evidence of it, but he felt it deep in his bones. Someone was in his house that certainly didn't belong.

As soon as Hermione appeared, he grabbed her arm and pressed his hand over her mouth, silencing her. Her eyes went wide at the rough handling and she automatically reached for her wand. Draco shook his head and gestured behind him and down the hallway with his head. He mouthed, "someone's here." When she nodded against his hand, he released her, the seriousness of the situation keeping him from the desire to wipe his hands off after the physical contact. They both went for their wands and drew them out in silence. Where was his house elf? He looked in the kitchen as they slowly made their way down the hall. His plate and breakfast scraps remained in the sink. Not a good sign.

He looked back briefly at Hermione, seeing the determination in her eyes, her mouth forming silent words over and over. She must be reciting spells. A cold wave of air washed over him and he shuddered. Location spells felt so strange. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and then looked back at Draco. Upstairs.

His hand tightened on his wand as he gained the flight of steps and slowly went up one by one, thankful his entire house was stone – no creaking wood to give them away. At the landing, a small form to his right caught his attention. Milly. His house elf was curled up on her side, unmoving. With his eyes down the other side of the hall, he motioned to Hermione. He needn't have. She rushed over to the fallen house elf and immediately checked for a pulse. Instantly, he could tell she was still alive by the relaxed exhale from Granger. He was a little surprised at how much relief he felt. It would have been extremely lonely in this big Manor without the little elf running around, badgering Draco constantly about leaving his belongings strewn about. Over the years, she had really been his main companion and he become rather fond of her and her presence.

Hermione's wand glowed briefly with a rose-colored light and she swept it over Milly's body. Draco raised an eyebrow when she stood to join him once the light had faded out completely. She mouthed, "Healing spell." He nodded and pointed with two fingers down the long stretch of hallway that culminated at his closed bedroom door then indicated each of the four other doors, two to each side, which lined the ornate rug that ran down the entire length. She nodded back and they resumed their inspection. The master bathroom was the first door on the right and it was already open. Wand first, Draco stepped through the doorway, his trained eyes sweeping over every inch of the room. Empty. The first door to the left was just a closet full of shelves of towels, candles, spare soap, and other various bathroom necessities. Though it was too small for a full-sized person to effectively hide in, he checked it anyway, for thoroughness' sake. The next two rooms, a guest bedroom and an office area, were both empty as well. It just figured that the intruder would be in his bedroom.

He didn't keep anything exceptionally valuable in his house, and as far as personal effects went, he didn't really have any. The things he held most dear were pictures – mostly of him and his parents. There would be no reason for anyone to want those. What could they possibly be here for?

With a deep breath, he reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly away from the frame. He pushed it open, his body remaining in the hallway for safety sake…and nothing happened. He frowned and pricked his ears slightly straining for sound. Silence. This was interesting. Briefly, he looked back at Hermione and she nodded once. Her eyes were wide in the semi-dark hall, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip, but her grip on her wand was firm and unwavering. Draco set his shoulders and, as one, they burst into the bedroom.

"Protego!" Hermione's shield spell came up just in time as a stunning curse came flying at Draco from the far corner. There was a brief flash of dark hair and Draco's instincts took over.

"Petrificus totalus!" His body-bind hex hit the intruder square in the chest, knocking whoever it was backwards with a loud thud onto the stone, the throw hardly cushioning the impact. Hermione dissipated her shield as they both gave the room a once over, assuring themselves there was no one else, before approaching the fallen form. Simultaneously, the both froze as recognition hit them. Hermione was the first to unfreeze and she knelt down beside the form, staring in confusion at the all-too-familiar features. She held her wand over the immobile form, "Ennerv-"

"What are you doing?!" Draco exclaimed, cutting her incantation short. "You can't just wake him back up. He attacked us!"

Hermione sighed but aimed her wand at the captive's wrists instead, "Incarcerous." Ropes flew from the tip, binding tightly. "Better?"

"Yes," he replied stiffly.

She nodded and once again held her wand over the prone body. "Ennervate."

The dark-haired, wide-eyed form of Oliver Wood stirred immediately, his gaze flicking between the two of them rapidly, his rate of respiration increasing by the second.

"Calm down, Oliver. It's me. It's Hermione. You're alright."

"He doesn't look alright to me," Draco muttered.

Hermione ignored him. "Can you tell me why you're here?"

"My wand! Where's my wand?! I must destroy you!" He began to writhe on the floor in frantic, spasmodic movements, trying in vain to break the ropes keeping his wrists together.

Draco's eyes searched the floor until he located the object in question and deftly picked it up, stowing it in his back pocket for the time being. "He's bewitched, Granger."

"Yes, Malfoy, I can see that." She tried again. "Oliver! Look at me." Suddenly, their old schoolmate froze, his eyes fixing on Hermione's, recognition flaring up in them.

"Hermione! Quick! He's right behind you! Kill him! We've got to kill Draco Malfoy!"

Draco's blood went cold in his veins at the fanaticism behind those words. Somehow was definitely hell-bent on his death. "What the –"

"Who told you that, Oliver?" Hermione pressed. "Who wants Draco Malfoy to die?"

He shook his head back and forth faster and faster. "Can't say. Can't say. Just have to. Just have to kill him." He wrested himself to a sitting position, his hands still bound behind his back, and began to rock back and forth, repeating the same words over and over. Hermione frowned. Someone was obviously controlling him, but whom? She stood and stepped next to Draco.

"Any ideas who might want you killed?"

Draco snorted. "It'd probably be easier to tell you who doesn't want me killed." He shrugged.

Hermione tapped her chin with a finger as she watched Oliver rocking in the floor. It was strange. She had heard of his disappearance, of course. It was widespread news that Oliver Wood, one of the best keepers professional Quidditch had seen in ages, had just not shown up to a game several months ago. The Ministry had been on the lookout for him ever since, but foul play hadn't really been suspected. Why would anyone want to kill Oliver Wood? He had no real ties to anyone who opposed The Remnant. He was an all-around good guy and friend to many, but wasn't exceptionally close to anyone.

Then again, that could be exactly why whoever had done this had picked him. He was rather inconspicuous in a crowd, unless it was a crowd of avid Quidditch fans. It wouldn't be odd for him to be around this area, either, considering his family still resided nearby. Often times, the best place to hide was in plain sight.

"Hold on just a second." Draco disappeared down the hallway, returning quickly with a small vial in his hand. Hermione recognized the clear potion inside it immediately: veritaserum. Draco unceremoniously grabbed Oliver by the chin, forcing his mouth open and dropping three drops onto his tongue. He waited a moment before beginning the questioning, "Where are you?"

"Malfoy Manor."

"Why are you here?"

"To kill Draco Malfoy."

"Who sent you?"

He twitched twice as the potion fought against the binding of the spell, but finally he said, "Pansy Parkinson."

Draco straightened to a standing position in shock. Pansy? His long-time friend was now trying to kill him. He turned slowly and locked eyes with Hermione. His stomach churned as he caught a flash of pity. He didn't need pity from her. With a snarl on his face, he turned back to Oliver. "Where is she now?"

"I don't know."

"Where was she the last time you saw her?"

"Severus Snape's old house."

He nodded to himself. He had been right; she was close by. Without preamble, he pointed his wand at Oliver's forehead, "Obliviate."

At Hermione's gasp, he turned to face her. "Problem, Granger?"

"How could you just erase his memories like that? He was spelled! He wasn't a harm to you anymore. Was that really necessary?"

"Yes." He didn't offer any explanation. He cast a quick spell to cut through the ropes and pulled Oliver along behind him to the fireplace, returning his wand to its owner's pocket, pushing him into the floo, tossing powder at his feet, and saying, "Ministry of Magic." Once he was whooshed off, he turned back around to find Hermione staring disapprovingly at him. "I don't need your judgment, Granger. No one else needs to know where Pansy is located, not right now."

She scowled but didn't protest. Thank Merlin. His headache was only getting worse. He fell back onto the couch, sighing at the comfort, his eyes sliding closed for a brief moment of respite.

"I can feel you staring at me."

"You're unbelievable!"

He opened one eye and regarded Hermione for a moment, her hands on her hips and her eyes boring into him, looking so much like a disappointed mother.

"What is so unbelievable about me, Granger?"

"Your complete lack of regard for others, for one thing! Now what are you going to do? Just sit there and take a nap?"

He closed his eye and folded his hands behind his head. "Did you have a better idea?"

"How about going to get Pansy like we're supposed to be doing?"

He laughed a humorless laugh dripping with condescension. "Don't you think we should wait until it gets dark? I'm fairly certain even Pansy will notice the two of us just waltzing up to the front door in broad daylight."

Hermione sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, fighting down the frustration building up in her. "What are we going to do until then?"

Draco sighed. She was obviously not going to quit. "If you're so itchy for something to do, Granger, why not cook us up some lunch?" He fought but failed to stop the smirk forming on his lips.

"Whatever, Malfoy. I'm going to go check on your elf." Without another word, she swept up the stairs and out of sight.

Good riddance, he thought. If she was going to be this demanding and obnoxious the entire time, he simply wasn't going to survive. He blew out a puff of air and tried to relax deeper into the cushions. There was no doubt about it: an afternoon spent cooped up in his house with Granger was going to be the longest afternoon of his life.

A/N: First Dramione Fic. Review and let me know what you think?

-Running