In Search of Sunrise
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters belong to the goddess, J.K Rowling.

. . . . . .

Draco lit a cigarette, telling himself to be patient. Every noise he heard was putting him on edge. He was expecting someone to show up anytime now, unless his plea for help had been ignored. Patience, patience. He took a long drag from the cigarette and blew out slowly. There was that saying, that good things come to those who wait. As the phrase bounded through his head, Draco rolled his eyes. What a load of shit.

And then there came the sound he was waiting for – a gentle crack, close enough to be heard but far away enough not to startle him. Unconsciously, Draco pulled out his wand.

"Draco Malfoy," came a familiar voice, and seconds later Severus Snape stepped into view.

Draco pocketed his wand and continued smoking his cigarette. "You're late," he said. "Sir."

"Forests aren't renowned places for a meeting. I wasted quite some time trying to find you." Snape gave Draco one of his infamous looks – part disapproval and part disgust. "You look terrible."

Draco had to bite his lip to stop himself from making a snappy comeback.

"It's been awhile," Snape continued.

"Hasn't it?" Draco smirked. "I'm surprised the Dark Lord didn't send you along with the people designated to kill me. We might've run into each other sooner if he did."

Snape's lip curled. "Enough childish banter. You should know better than to come out here when your life is in danger. And put that cigarette away."

The cigarette stayed in place. "I needed your help," Draco said casually, "and I had nothing left to lose. Either you would kill me or you would help me out. And I think I got lucky. If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now."

"Trusting me was a foolish idea. What if I turned you in to the Dark Lord?"

"But you didn't, did you?"

"I'm trying to make you learn from your mistakes," Snape snapped. "You may as well have dug your own grave. Calling me here was a risk you shouldn't have taken."

"But it paid off, didn't it? I'm still alive, and I think you're going to offer me help."

Snape seemed to brace himself before asking, "What sort of help are you looking for?"

"The kind that keeps me safe." A trail of smoke flew out of Draco's mouth. "You work for Dumbledore."

"I'm a Death Eater."

"Ah, but you're on Dumbledore's side. If you were on the Dark Lord's side, then you would have brought the whole merry gang with you or you would've killed me yourself. I hear the Dark Lord has them all looking for me?"

"Only the people he knows will get the job done." Snape looked uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

"Meaning my father?"

"Amongst others."

"So that includes Aunt Bella – and, perhaps, her husband?"

Snape huffed, irritated by Draco's casual tone. "You disobeyed a direct order. What did you expect?"

"Nothing. I just didn't think my loving family would be so eager to carve on my tombstone." Draco threw his cigarette down and crushed it under his heel. "We're wasting time. I asked you to come here because I can't keep running forever. I've already been in too many near-death situations. I need protection."

"And you want this protection from…?"

"Dumbledore."

"I suspected as much." Snape shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'll have to discuss your situation with Professor Dumbledore before anything can be decided. Members of the Order of the Phoenix are now permanently living at the Headquarters, which is protected by a Fidelius Charm. Even if Dumbledore were to agree, you would have to wait to receive the location of Headquarters from him." Snape gave Draco a look. "You've made it this far…do you think you can survive for another few days?"

"I'll manage. How will you find me?"

"I won't. You'll have to tell me where you'll be. In two days, send an owl to my home in Spinner's End and set the time and place for another meeting."

Snape turned to leave. After a moment's hesitation, Draco called him back. "Professor?"

"Draco?"

"What are the odds?" For the first time, a hint of desperation broke through Draco's nonchalant façade. "Do you think he'll agree?"

Snape's face softened. "Professor Dumbledore is not cruel, Draco. Whatever his decision, I doubt he will send you back into this pit of starving wolves." He hesitated only slightly before saying, "Either way, you have my support."

Draco gave a curt nod in thanks.

"No more mistakes, Draco," Snape added. "You're very, very lucky that you're still alive."

And with that, Snape turned and left. After a few minutes, the distant crack was heard once again.

. . . . . .

Reaching into his pocket four days later, Draco pulled out one of the last two cigarettes he had and placed it at the tip of his mouth. He made a mental note to remember to stock up on more cigarettes soon. Igniting the tip of his wand with a small fire spell, he lit up and took a deep drag.

A hand-written note from Dumbledore sat in his pocket. Snape had told him where to go and when to pull out the note, and to burn the note after reading it so that nobody else would ever find it. The note would make the Fidelius Charm immune to him and let him in on the secret, enabling him to go inside Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, but he made no move to pull it out. He simply stood where he was, across Number Eleven, Grimmauld Place.

Draco contemplated his situation while blowing smoke out of his mouth. If he pulled the note out, he'd be making a decision to get help from people who would view him as a murderer and a notorious Death Eater. If he stayed out here and continued running, he'd probably be dead in the next few weeks. Even if he miraculously managed to survive, the idea of spending the rest of his life in hiding was slightly unappealing.

But hell, walking into the headquarters of Dumbledore's self-righteous crew and seeking their protection was just a little too much, especially for him. It was like karma was giving him a hard kick in the balls.

He took a deep breath, stubbed out his cigarette, and pulled out the note. Self-righteous or not, Draco concluded, at least with the Phoenix people he'd be protected. Even if they imprisoned him.

Later on, he would regret thinking it would be that easy.

The narrow, slightly slanted handwriting on the note informed him that Headquarters were located at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Draco tapped his foot as the house pushed its way into place. When the house had fully settled, Draco moved towards the black door and knocked.

. . . . . .

He'd been on the run for months and months. He wasn't really sure how many months – being on the run without a calendar, or even a watch, kind of does that to you – but he knew for sure that it had been two years since he saw the high ceiling of Hogwarts' Great Hall, or Peeves the poltergeist, or Dumbledore's wrinkled face.

Two years, and this is what it led to. Two years, and he found himself strapped to a chair while members of the oh-so-mighty Order of the Phoenix looked down on him and decided whether or not he was "worthy".

Draco's eyes scanned the room, his fingernails digging into his palms. They hadn't received him kindly; that much he'd expected. But this looked more and more like an over-exaggerated disciplinary meeting. Light was shining on his face and he could clearly see Dumbledore standing at a podium, looking back at him.

The rest of the room was in shadow, but he could see the faint outline of stands with people sitting there, judging him. Every now and then, he could hear someone shift or cough.

He had suspected that Dumbledore would want to hear his story and would make him sit down somewhere for a tell-all, but he'd thought it would be just Dumbledore. Either that, or he had thought they'd lock him up somewhere first and ask questions later.

But clearly Dumbledore had been expecting him; a blonde haired girl, who had opened the door, had taken him straight to Dumbledore when she saw him. Of course, before Draco was allowed to see the old man, his pockets were emptied, his wand was taken, and his arms were bound. And then, finally, Dumbledore had greeted him almost jovially before calling this meeting – or whatever the hell it was.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Oh joy, Draco thought. Here comes the death sentence.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore's voice echoed across the room, "It is not our nature to condemn those who seek forgiveness."

How very noble of you.

"However," Dumbledore continued, "we also have no reason to trust you, nor have you earned our forgiveness in any way. Mr. Potter believes you have ulterior motives."

"Mr. Potter?" Draco repeated blankly.

"I will assume you haven't forgotten who Harry Potter is?"

"I should be so lucky." He raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore, who stared back with a serious expression on his face. "What I meant was, why would anyone care what Potter thinks?"

"Seeing how you and he attended school together, he would most likely have a greater insight into your character–"

"Potter doesn't know shit about me."

"Tell the boy to mind his language," came a croaky voice from the stands. A few others murmured in agreement. Draco swore under his breath. This was unbelievable.

"Nevertheless," Dumbledore continued calmly, as though nothing had happened, "there is nobody in our Order who is willing to verify your innocence."

Big surprise.

"And as I said before, Mr. Potter thinks that you may want to join to act as a spy for Voldemort."

Draco smiled. "And Potter's word is solid, of course, because he's never been wrong before-"

"It's not just Harry that believes that," a voice said. A slim, tall figure walked into Draco's line of vision. If it wasn't for the out-of-control bushy hair, he wouldn't have recognized her at all.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect to see you here. Missed me, Granger?"

She gave him a cold look and folded her arms across her chest. "Most of us here believe that you're up to no good. Even if you're not, we see no reason why we should risk our necks just because you might have developed a conscience."

"And seeing how you're the all-knowing Hermione Granger, you can't be wrong?"

"It's not just me, Malfoy. Didn't you hear me say 'most of us here?'" She turned to Dumbledore. "There's no chance in the world that he's a different person than he used to be. Even if we considered the slim possibility that he might have changed, we're still risking our lives. If the Death Eaters want him dead, then they'll kill him. And if we're protecting him, they'll kill us, too."

"Hell, Granger, when you put it like that, I definitely want you to sign me up. Hopefully the Death Eaters will raid this place and kill you first." Draco looked her over. She was wearing a too-large shirt, possibly belonging to Potter, Weasley, or any other man unfortunate enough to keep her company. "What's with the shirt? Did you become a she-male yet, or is that still an ongoing process?"

"Shut it, Malfoy," a familiar voice snarled from the shadows behind Granger.

"You there, Potter? Never thought you'd be the type to hide behind Granger's skirt. Under it, maybe–"

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said in a warning voice.

"Just for the record," Draco said, quirking an eyebrow in Dumbledore's direction, "Granger isn't as smart as she seems to be if she's thinking in those terms. The Death Eaters want you lot dead whether or not you're protecting me. They don't need any more incentive than they already have. Thought you would have figured that out by now." He looked at Hermione with a smirk. "What, you thought if you crossed the street and saw a Death Eater there, they'd smile and offer you a Bernie Bott bean?"

She said nothing in reply. Draco gave himself a moment to enjoy the triumph of shutting her up.

"Perhaps, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, "if you could convince Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter that you are no longer in allegiance with the Death Eaters–"

"Look, I'm having a hard time convincing myself that this isn't some form of a sick joke. I didn't come here for this. What do you want from me? I'm not going to kiss Potter's ass just so I can be accepted here."

"I say we lock him up and torture him," Hermione said. "Let him get a taste of his own medicine."

Harry emerged from the shadows, stopping next to Hermione. "Tell us why you deserve a second chance."

"Not if my life depended on it, Potter."

A second later there was a wand pressing hard against his throat, poking a hole next to his Adam's apple. "Your life does depend on it, you worthless piece of shit," Harry hissed, two inches away from Draco's face. "Give us a reasonable explanation or you die. You were a fool to think we'd welcome you here with open arms."

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "Please."

Harry stepped away, giving Draco a look of disgust.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said softly. "You must understand what you ask of us. The last we heard, you had become a Death Eater, running in the closest circles with Voldemort himself. This change of mind is astonishing, to say the least, and I cannot blame the members of the Order for assuming the worst."

Draco shook his head. "Snape works for you. He's the one who gave me the slip of paper with the address written by you. He was obviously acting on your orders. You obviously expected me to come and I'm here. What do you want from me?"

The news that Dumbledore had invited Draco was obviously a shock for Hermione and Harry. They looked at Dumbledore, wide-eyed.

Dumbledore smiled.

"Ah, we cut to the chase." Dumbledore looked at Draco with piercing eyes. "You see, Mr. Malfoy, Severus had informed me of your – dissolution, shall we call it? – from the Death Eaters. Due to your father's actions, I assume? My contemporaries will no doubt think my judgment is flawed and that you are still a Death Eater in disguise. Perhaps they think that you will be the death of us all, sometime soon.

"I, however," Dumbledore continued, still smiling, "am a little more optimistic."

The moment of shocked silence was suddenly broken when Potter said, in an incredulous tone, "Professor, you can't be serious–"

"Oh, but I am, Harry," Dumbledore said. "After all, when a person finds the courage to reach out for a second chance, I wouldn't deny it to them. Would you?"

Potter scowled. "Professor, you don't understand–"

"Oh?"

"He hasn't changed. People like him," Potter pointed his finger at Draco, "are incapable of change."

Draco said nothing, raising an eyebrow.

"Professor," Hermione spoke up. "I have to agree with Harry. This is too much of a risk."

"You too, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione nodded. Draco's eyes flicked back to Dumbledore. What was going to happen now? Dumbledore looked at Draco.

"You say, Harry," Dumbledore said, keeping his eyes fixed on Draco's, "that people like Mr. Malfoy can't change? Even if given the chance?"

"Yes, sir."

Piece of shit, Draco thought furiously. Who the fuck was Potter to say whether he could or couldn't change?

"Then I propose a small science experiment."

Draco could hear people murmuring in confusion. Hermione and Harry exchanged looks. "Sir?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"You believe that certain people cannot change. I believe otherwise. So the question in our little experiment is: can people truly change for the better, or not? You, Mr. Malfoy, will be our lab rat."

Draco's eyes widened. The old goon was insane. Officially.

"I'll be your what?"

And that was all it took. If he hadn't been practically stapled to a chair, he would've walked out and told them all to go fuck themselves.

"I'm not some toy, old man. And I refuse to be part of your sick psychological shit. Play your games with Potter over there." He shook the chair that bound him. "Let me go. I've changed my mind. I want to leave. Now."

Dumbledore stared at him patiently.

"Now," Draco repeated.

"Professor, if he wants to leave–" Hermione started, but Dumbledore silenced her with a wave of his hand.

"Unfortunately for you, Mr. Malfoy, you placed yourself in this situation. As I mentioned, you were a known Death Eater. Even if we decided not to let you into the Order, we wouldn't be able to just let you walk out of this building. That would be a mistake on our parts. However, lucky for you, I'm quite stubborn in my decisions. Whether you like it or not, you are now a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

Draco's struggles against the chair stopped instantly. It wasn't just him – the whole room had gone quiet. If someone used that moment to drop a feather, they would have heard when it hit the ground. It was that quiet.

"He's what?" Hermione asked, breaking the hush.

"Mr. Malfoy is an official member of the Order of the Phoenix. Our experiment has already begun. I want my hypothesis to be true, Mr. Malfoy, so I wish you the best of luck."

Dumbledore nodded happily at Draco, who was still sitting motionless in the chair.

"It's not unconditional, of course," Dumbledore said, after a moment. "After all, Mr. Potter's fears may be well-founded. You will need, for lack of a better word, a supervisor. Someone who will keep an unbiased eye on you."

Unbiased? Draco nearly snorted out loud. Good luck with that.

"And Ms. Granger?" Hermione's head shot up. Draco looked from her to their former Headmaster and something in his head clicked into place. No, no, no, a thousand times no. "I've decided that you're the best person for the job."

The roar of disapproval that rose from the stands was nothing compared to the roar in Draco's head. Dumbledore raised his hand and silence was restored, if only at the surface.

"No," Draco said almost immediately.

"No," Hermione said simultaneously. "Professor Dumbledore, please."

"No," Harry repeated. "I don't want that snake following Hermione's every move."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Are you deaf, Potter? Has your scar impaired your hearing as much as your brain? Apparently the she-male is going to be following me."

Hermione shook her head, her wild mane of hair flying. "I won't do it. I refuse. I won't spend every god-forsaken minute following this – this–" She motioned in Draco's general direction, at a loss for words.

"Speechless, Granger?" Draco smirked. "I've never had that effect on a Mudblood before."

It happened so fast he didn't see it coming. One minute she was standing on the other side of the room, the next she had crossed the distance and gave him a hard slap that jerked his head back. A resulting gasp of surprise came from the stands, followed by a few cheers.

Oh, hell, Draco thought. I'm the star in a courtroom drama.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, was trying to restore peace.

"Ms. Granger–"

Hermione was breathing hard, standing in front of Draco, giving him what was probably the nastiest look he had ever received in his life. "Say it again," she breathed. "I dare you."

Draco locked eyes with her. She was so angry, so red in the face and flustered, that he wanted to laugh, to push her buttons even further. Before he could say anything, Dumbledore intervened.

"Ms. Granger, please take a step back."

She clenched her fists. She was clenching her jaw, Draco could tell, but she stepped back. She turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, please. Please," she said. "Choose anyone else. Anyone. I can't do it. I can't. Malfoy and I can't even stay in the same room together. One of us will end up dead."

"Ladies first, Granger," Draco quipped. "But that doesn't really qualify for you, does it?"

"Do you see what I mean?" she asked Dumbledore, gesturing towards Draco.

"You're no better than I am, Granger," Draco said.

Hermione gave a harsh laugh. "Don't flatter yourself, you jerk."

"I wasn't flattering myself. I was sinking down to your level and rolling in the mud."

"You-"

"Enough," Dumbledore said, authority ringing in his voice. Everyone looked toward him. "I have made my decision. Mr. Malfoy has been accepted into the Order of the Phoenix."

"Albus," a deep voice came from the stands. "Isn't this the sort of thing we should all vote on?"

"In this case, no, Caradoc," Dumbledore said. "I don't have the time or the method to convince you all that this decision is in our best interest. I ask you to simply trust me." He looked over at Draco. "I don't believe we'll be disappointed. At least, not in the long run."

Dumbledore moved to stand in front of Draco. "Mr. Malfoy," he said, "you are now a member of the Order. I wish you the best of luck."

The ropes that held Draco in place immediately loosened and melted into the chair. Draco lifted his arms, rubbing his wrists, but he didn't move.

"I don't understand," Draco said. "What am I supposed to do now? Jump out of here and scream with glee?"

"If you truly feel like doing so, then by all means," Dumbledore replied with a small smile, gesturing towards the exit. Draco glared at him. "I will speak with the other members soon and decide exactly what sort of job we should hand you. For the time being, you are under surveillance."

Draco heard Hermione groan.

"Ms. Granger will give me weekly reports. She is required to follow you everywhere you go and you are required to make the task simple for her. Behavioral improvement is also advised, Mr. Malfoy. If she tells me that you refuse to cooperate, then you will lose your one chance and you will be dealt with severely."

Go to hell, old man.

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said. Her voice sounded small. "Please. Reconsider. Put anyone else on the job. Not me. Anyone but me."

"And who's to say Granger's going to keep an unbiased eye on me?" Draco added. "If you ask me, anyone could do the job better."

"I trust Ms. Granger's judgment," Dumbledore said to Draco. "I believe she's above allowing petty school enmities to affect the outcome of something this serious." He then eyed Hermione over his half-moon glasses. "The job is yours, Ms. Granger. Weren't you saying you wanted an assignment?"

Hermione looked like she had swallowed something sour.

Dumbledore turned back to Draco. "You are free to go. Ms. Granger will show you a room where you can stay and will later get you acquainted with the rest of the Order."

Draco stayed in place, still in surprise. How did all this happen in such a short span of time? Hermione, for her part, looked like she had woken up to discover that her worst nightmare was actually a reality. She gave Dumbledore one last, pleading look. Dumbledore saw it.

"You have my sympathies, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said softly. "But you know, just as well as I do, that nobody else would be willing to do this. Even if someone else volunteered, I doubt they would do the job properly. I have faith in you."

He waved to the door. "Go now. Keep a constant watch on Mr. Malfoy and report back to me at the end of every week. The assignment will be complete when I'm satisfied with your reports. That's an order."

The abrupt dismissal left Hermione with a look that made Draco want to laugh in her face. Except – considering how she was going to be keeping an eye on him all day long, and he didn't enjoy her company any more than she did his – he couldn't really find the situation all that funny.

Hermione walked up to him and grabbed his shoulder in a vice-like grip. "Move," she hissed at him, and he did, with her trailing behind him.

. . . . . .

. . . .

. .

A/N: This little fic was born when a friend of mine challenged me to write a fic where Draco and Hermione kiss twenty times before they actually get together. I don't know if I can get them to kiss TWENTY times without being completely OOC, but there should be enough DMHG romance in the future to keep everyone satisfied.

Anyway, this is going to be LONG with super-long chapters, so be prepared. I'll update as often as I can (I'm hoping to have it completely finished by the end of the year), but I'll be balancing college and everyday life along with it, so...we'll see. Love it or hate it, be sure to let me know!