Fall Into Me

A/N 1: I do not hold rights to anything related to Harry Potter or its affiliated themes, characters or settings. Neither do I hold the rights to the song 'Let Her Go' by the wonderful Passenger and any affiliated labels.

Also, anyone who is reading this, I can't tell you how much I love you all, at the moment I have nearly 2000 views total on all my stories, I can't tell you how much it means to me that my (relaxation/hobby/complete shut off from the world) stories have been read by so many people.

To my readers in far off places, I'm actually in awe of how far reaching my stories are. You guys are so cool! I can't believe that I've been read everywhere, it took a lot of 'shut my eyes and just press the button' to post my stories on here as I've always been a little unsure about my writing but you guys make me feel so happy when I check my reader statistics at the end of the day.

As always reviews make me happy, constructive criticism is the best as it helps me refine my writing because I am still learning and trying out a couple of styles to see which fits best. Reviews are always great when they're not anonymous so I can PM you and I can explain certain choices or clarify things but I love any reviews. I'm just in awe of you guys, thank you so much.

A/N 2: This is going to be my first multi-chapter hopefully with a fornightly update schedule. When I started writing this it was just going to be a short drabble that I came up with whie revising for my exams but when I started writing it I thought it deserved more than 200 words. So without further ado, we have 'Fall Into Me'. Hope you guys like it :)

Fall Into Me

Well you see her when you fall asleep

But never to touch and never to keep

'Cause you loved her too much

And you dived too deep

Passenger – Let Her Go

For a while now that bushy-haired, bookish know-it-all Granger had been a permanent fixture in his head. He couldn't get the memories of her out of his head. Echoes of their arguments floated into his head at random moments of the day. Recollections of the time he'd warned her and her useless friends of imminent danger, why had he done that? It only succeeded in branding her face and her voice more firmly in his memories.

Every so often thoughts of her surfaced from where he'd filed away the confusing moments he'd realised he was feeling something more than a deep hatred for one Hermione Granger. He thought it might have started before First Year even started. The bushy haired girl entering all of the train compartments asking if anyone had seen a toad another First Year had lost. He supposed that was what stuck her in his brain at the start. She wasn't spectacular to look at all that hair but what 11 year old boy thinks a girl their age is attractive? Draco thought it was more likely that over time his feelings changed from curiosity to dislike to affection. He didn't think he was in love with her but then maybe he was, he didn't think he'd ever been in love before.

When he found himself talking at length about her to his parents, he told himself it was purely because she was such annoying creature that she was forever on his mind. He didn't notice that his parents had begun to regard his complaints about her with intrigue. Their confusion at why their son was suddenly so obsessed with one girl turned over time to understanding that he loved this girl even if he didn't know it. They didn't know she was a Muggleborn, for all they knew she was a good Pureblood girl; perhaps a tributary of one of the newer families, hadn't the Dagworths married into some Grangers at one point? As such Narcissa and Lucius began to nurture their son's attachment to this girl. Lucius was certain to tell his wife after his and Draco's visit to Knockturn Alley about one Miss Granger. Any other girl that Draco disliked was usually referred to by their surname or some benign insult but Draco called her by her full name; maybe his young son didn't dislike this girl as much as he thought.

In their Second Year, he'd slipped that page to her about Basilisks knowing that his father was planning something about them. Theo's father, Thoros, had come to visit his father and asked him about a diary. He'd sounded worried when he asked if the Basilisk would escape and attack the Muggleborns again with his master present. Mentions of Muggleborn attacks had Draco reeling, the information he'd given to Granger would keep her safe. Even though he knew she'd go mad when she saw the jagged edge from being torn from a book, he thought she'd appreciate the help on the research she'd no doubt do when everyone found out about the Chamber of Secrets. He knew it wouldn't go down well when he suggested that Hermione would be the next victim to be petrified after Filch's cat but he just needed her attention on him even if it was in anger. She'd acted like a girl over Lockheart. Not that she wasn't a girl but he didn't think she was the type to swoon at a famous person and write 'Hermione Lockheart' all over her books if Potter and a jealous Weasley were to be believed.

In his pain induced haze after that bloody Hippogriff brutally attacked him in Third Year he'd seen Hermione rush to open the gates to the Hippogriff pasture so Hagrid could get him to the Hospital Wing quickly. As they were just getting out of earshot he thought he heard Hermione ask if anyone thought he'd be okay. The thought that the object of his affections was worried about him made his heart soar. It was okay to be a little obsessed with her health and happiness if she occasionally had the same thoughts as him. His attack by that Hippogriff had caused his father to call for the beast's execution. Draco doc t really care what happened to the beast as long as it kept Hermione's attention on him. It seemed the fates had taken Draco's wish for Hermione's attention to be focused on him as could Hermione please punch him as hard as she can in the face. His girl had a mean right hook. He knew that he shouldn't have provoked her about something that was upsetting her. She'd worked so hard to help Hagrid win his case for that bloody chicken but they'd lost because of the power that the Malfoy name carried. It was just so hard to resist and Draco found himself not willing to try to resist if it meant she'd talk – shout at him, same thing really. As she'd got older, instead of only her eyes flashing, her hair sparked with the latent magic surging through Hermione at that moment in time. Draco was willing to admit that it was more than a little scary to see. Her ire resulted in a very hard slap straight across his face designed to break his nose and a rather inventive insult of 'You foul loathsome evil little cockroach', definitely not the reaction he wanted from the girl he desired. Then again maybe he deserved it.

It had taken until their Fourth year to realise that his need to best her in everything academically had been to show her that he was good enough for her, that he was more intelligent than Weasley who she seemed to have a ridiculously heart-melting infatuation for. The overriding feeling of jealousy when she got upset by something he had done had provoked an anger in him that he had previously associated with Granger's presence instead of other influences like Weasley's ability to hurt his supposed best friend. That anger had caused so many arguments in his misguided attempts to see the passion that would flare in her eyes when she debated something she felt strongly about. He told himself that the only reason he wanted to see that fire ignite inside of her was purely because she'd end up getting herself so worked up that she might end up hexing him and any altercation like that would finish with Snape coincidentally walking round the corner just as she went to hex him, conveniently getting the trio in trouble and losing points for Gryffindor. He soon realised that the most effective topics he'd come to realise had been that bizarre SPEW group she'd set up – didn't she know that house elves preferred to work rather than be free, his crazy old elf Dobby being an exception – or The Boy Who Lived himself. It had taken him till nearly the end of Fourth Year to realise that the reason he picked fights with her was to see the fire in her eyes and so her could pretend that it was fire for him, her protective nature flaring up for him or her intense love for him showing through when someone had the intention of hurting him.

When he saw her walking down the Grand Staircase into Krum's waiting arms he was both shellshocked at her beauty and fighting the urge to rip Krum limb from limb for touching Hermione. For Salazar's sake, the man couldn't even say her name correctly. Herm-own-ninny didn't even sound remotely like Hermione. As the night progressed, Draco continued to berate himself for asking Pansy to be his date to the ball. The frilly pink abomination she was dressed in reminded him vaguely of the old tutu one of his family's House Elves liked to wear. Excusing himself from Pansy's company, as she was still one of his best friends even if her mother's choice of dress robes left a lot to be desired, he went in search of a quiet alcove or empty classroom to sit away from the pressure of the Great Hall and behaving like a chivalrous young man. The quiet of the Entrance Hall was broken by Weasley's brash voice.

"He's from Durmstrang! You're fraternising with the enemy!", Weasley exclaimed, accusation dripping from his harsh tone.

"The enemy? Who was it wanting his autograph? Besides the whole point of the tournament is international magical cooperation. To make friends!", Hermione shouted back. The second person was Granger. Why was it that the Weasel couldn't get it through his thick skull that his actions and words hurt Hermione? He didn't deserve her affections if he was too dense to notice her.

"I think he's got a bit more than friendship on his mind. He's using you.", came Ron's cutting reply. If it wasn't Hermione that the ginger prick was insulting, he would have congratulated him on his remark. But as it was the only thoughts on his mind were: find her and make her happy again. Weasley was meant to be her best friend, he had no rights to accuse her of allowing such things to happen to her.

It was their Fifth Year before he realised that the façade of blood purity he'd been hiding behind to keep his father happy was complete and utter bullshit. Muggleborns not being worth their magic, the idea had simply become improbable to him. There was no way that Hermione Granger – hailed as the brightest witch of their age – wasn't worth her magic. She had more magical knowledge in her little finger than some of the purest of the Purebloods did in their entire being; take Crabbe and Goyle for example. They weren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed yet they were the heirs to a long line of inbred Purebloods. Probably the inbreeding that causes the stupidity, Draco thought. As it were, Fifth Year was too late to learn how to be a decent human who didn't judge by purity of blood or family name. It was common knowledge amongst the older Slytherins that Voldemort had returned from the dead. The majority were children of Death Eaters who had returned to His service in the graveyard of Little Hangleton. For Draco it was even more impossible to escape. His father had already recommended him as his successor should anything happen to him, very much going against all of Narcissa's wishes for her son.

By the end of Fifth year it was clear that he was going have to be the one to fill his father's place in His ranks. The Battle of the Department of Mysteries had proved Hermione's inability to stay out of dangerous situations and his father's inability to win a duel against a group of teenagers and not get caught. As it was, Lucius was now in Azkaban telling Draco to join the Death Eaters if he didn't want to suffer a most painful few hours at the end of the Dark Lord's wand until his full compliance was obtained. Lucius' failures now meant that Draco had to take his place amongst the ranks of the Death Eaters come the end of the school year. He couldn't imagine the horrors he'd have to face or the atrocities he would have to commit in order to remain sure that Hermione stayed safe. He needed her to stay safe; often he felt she was the one thing holding him down, stopping him from running forever or just ending it all.

That summer between Fifth and Sixth year was the worst he'd ever experienced. He'd gotten used to Lucius berating him for never being quite good enough, always second best. 'Second best won't do when you're at the Dark Lord's feet, begging for mercy because you can't complete whatever task he's asked of you.', his father had said to him since the Dark Lord's rebirth in the Little Hangleton graveyard. At some point around the beginning of August – he'd lost track of dates once the Dark Lord took residence in the Manor. What was worse was that his crazy aunt Bellatrix, Uncles Rodolphus and Rabastan, Yaxley, Dolohov and a collection of other Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban and descended on his home to grovel at the Dark Lord's knee about their inability to get out sooner. Greyback chose this time to turn up as well after seeing news about the mass breakout. Whatever filthy hovel he'd crawled out of, he needed the return to. The leering stares he fired upon the young muggle girls that were brought to the Manor for revels were sickening. Not that the revels weren't enough to turn Draco from ever bending his knee to the madman that held court in his ballroom but the 'games' were something that would forever stain Draco's soul. The screams and pleas from the countless innocents brought to his ballroom he'd taken to ignoring. Since the arrival of the nose-less bastard, he had been pretending he couldn't hear them, that they didn't morph into Hermione in his mind. Every day the fear multiplied ten-fold, the soul-crushing terror that one day the victim in his ballroom would be her grew exponentially. Draco didn't know how long he could hold out against his father and the snake-like git pressuring him to become one of his minions to alleviate the shame his father had brought upon the family. He supposed that joining up was the best way he could protect Hermione. If he knew of Voldemort's plans, he could send notes to that Order of the Phoenix and alert them to His movements or about any officials in the Ministry that might be in the His pocket. So that was his decision made then. Weeks of plans on how to escape to the Order or to anyone who wasn't affiliated with the Dark Lord were contained in a ball of fire, floating about waist high from the ground as to not set the whole manor alight.

Two weeks later and Draco could be found on bent knee in front of the Dark Lord, pledging his allegiance to the cause and accepting the Mark he was to be given on his left forearm in silent suffering. The pain was immense, all the men gathered there knew that. Most of them had taken the near torture in silence as a way of proving their worth to the Dark Lord. Others had screamed and cried for their mothers, their friends or their deities. They earned extra rounds under the Cruciatus Curse for not being strong enough to withstand the pain of the Marking. Pain will make you stronger, the Dark Lord said. Draco didn't quite believe the lies they were fed at the Dark Lord's feet. Being in love with the one girl to whom he was anathema was a pain he'd never known before; loving Hermione Granger was a pain stronger than anything he'd ever endured at the end of the Dark Lord's wand and it certainly wasn't making him any stronger.

At the beginning of his Sixth Year Draco was given his task.

"Kill Albus Dumbledore.", the Dark Lord said, "By any means necessary."

"It would be my honour, my Lord.", Draco replied on bent knee.

Lies. All lies.

And so it began. A one-sided – or so Draco thought – game of cat and mouse ensued between Professor Dumbledore and the young Malfoy heir.