Chapter One

Six Years and you still burn

"You would die for them?"

"They believe in something."

"And what do you believe in, Draco?"

"Not. You."

The cold gripped him to the bone and the freezing rain stuck to his skin and made his clothes feel like a prison. There was a foggy mist all around him from the cold and the graveyard was dank and gloomy. What a perfect setting. He didn't know why he had come here, maybe for a catalyst or a reason to come back, all he knew was he needed to see it. His father's grave.

It was buried in the middle of a muggle graveyard in London to protect his father's bones and rest his soul and only he and his mother, a few Blacks, and a very few amount of Death Eaters knew where it was. It read Lucious Malfoy-A Soul Above The Rest, and Draco snorted at the words. A soul above the rest, yes that is exactly what you should call a murderer.

Draco shivered, not because of the cold, but because the memories he had tried so hard to repress came roaring back to him. His perfectly deceitful past that he had tried so hard to forget and keep from hurting them. From hurting her. He bough his head up to look at the tombstone and felt the familiar feelings once again in his cold heart and if his heart could feel, it could only feel for her. First it was waves and waves of rage and hate. Hate that so consumed him he wished only to torture her till she cried and begged she was sorry for something she had never done. Then came the familiar feeling of need and want. To say it wasn't lust was a lie, but it wasn't a physical lust alone. Without the shadow of doubt, he loved her more than anything in this world and everything she was, he lusted for. He lusted for the one soul and creature he should never lay hands on, no a murdering bastard and deceitful leech like him should never even be near enough to darken the edges of her innocence. He couldn't and he would be damned if the one gift he could give her was taken away. It was the one gift he could give to her, to Hermione Granger.

He felt the familiar pain in his chest, as though he was drowning and his own soul wanted to rot away just to feel a little relieved. Hermione Granger changed who he was, how he lived, and what he did. If it hadn't been for her, he would be living in the Malfoy Manor with his disastrous father, delirious mother, and all he could have ever wished for, but his perfect little world would have killed him in the end. The difference between him and his parents was one Hermione Granger.

It happened the moment he met her on the train first year. She had refused him and gone to his worst enemy and the Weasel.

He smirked at the name and even if it held no insult anymore and no one could hear it, it had become an affectionate name for a memory he would give anything to go back to. It was because she was a 'mudblood' and had refused him. She hadn't been the prettiest girl there and she certainly wasn't the kindest, but she had a spark he had never seen before. Even then she had a dark spark that made her fight all the more harder. Then in the second year, how she stood up for her friends no matter what and even when there was a great chance she could have died-and almost did-she fought off the basilisk only to give one clue to them. But in the third year, that's when everything really changed.

In the third year, when the threat of Voldemort's power increased and possibilities arose, she did everything in her power to make sure she could fight them and those she knew could too. She didn't hide away and not believe it wasn't there, but looked at it head on and fought back. He couldn't remember how many times he had caught her with a dark magic book, but it had been enough to arouse suspicion in the Dark Lord, and that's when his interest started too.

Draco wasn't stupid. He knew the Dark Lord, as powerful as he was, was scared to death. This was a new age; an age where anyone would fight and kids would kill without a second glance if they had too. An age where anybody could learn and find things about him that should have never been known. It was how she knew the Dark Lord's secret about a snake, why "the boy who lived" could speak parrslmouth (sp), and who he had been. It was her who figured out all the riddles "the boy who lived" had to face and it was her who knew just what to do.

Aside from the fact she was far to smart for her age, it was her character herself. Draco watched as countless people turned to her for guidance and she would lend without thinking twice to give them her shoulder to cry on. He watched as she took everything and in turn, kept it all. She was the "the boy who lived" pillar of strength and his only escape from the darkness. She was the Weasel's best friend through anything and though they had loved her, he could see it in their eyes, and they gave her everything they could, they could never comfort her.

Then there was the question she wasn't afraid of him, not at all. It was proved when she hit him square in the nose in the third year. He had been so stunned he couldn't even think. A mudblood had hit him, that wasn't possible, but she had and his world began to shift.

If mudbloods and halfbloods were so inferior, then why is a female mudblood turning out to be one of the most powerful women in history and a halfblood the Dark Lord? Draco knew he was the best at everything. That was an easy answer. It wasn't that he simply believed it; it was because it was true. The Dark Lord himself trained his father and his father trained him. He was a weapon in progress. Ever since the second year.

It was because he was brought up that way. He had always known he was meant for something other than the family name because if that was the case, his parents could have had ten children. No, it was because all the time and attention was devoted to him and to him alone. It was why he had begun an education when he was seven to learn everything he could about magic, war, strategies, and anything that could prove useful in the fight for the Dark Lord. It was why his father had beat him as a little boy and young man, to teach him to be tough and to face his enemies.

He smirked at the grave again.

But beyond that, Draco was trained to fight, to show no emotion, he was the ultimate Malfoy and if he didn't survive, then the Malfoy name didn't have the honor to exist.

It was honor, pride, and reputation that defined you. Power came into play, wealth helped considerably, but you didn't have to have either of those if you simply wanted to have a standing reputation in the Dark Lord's community.

Draco sighed and looked up against the sky. It was dark and daunting, and easy way to get yourself killed, but not much could rattle his cage. No, after all he'd been through, was still going to go through, that wasn't enough to even, making him think twice.

No, it was only her. He ground his teeth and kicked his muggle shoe into the dirt. The thought of her alone could rattle his cage. It had been seven years since he had actually felt any female and any other woman other than Hermione felt like ash in his arm. Funny how one little experience can jolt your world. It had happened in the astronomy tower of Hogwarts. The other reason why Draco was so very precious to the Dark Lord, because he alone could track everything in the school and not be detected, excluding his numerous talents. It was those very talents that made him turn his back though.

He could remember it clearly.

[Flashback

She was running, he could smell and hear her, one of the fancy new tricks the Dark Lord had given him for being a good "pet". He didn't have to run; he knew where she was going. He had a full league ahead of her anyways.

He finally reached the door to the astronomy tower and watched as the owls ruffled their feathers and cooed. He quickly glided over to the side of the door and cast a disillusion charm. The Dark Lord would be so pleased with her out of the way. The plan was to follow, he would give her the potion, say the charm to make it work, and then let her go thinking nothing had happened. Then she would slowly die and no one could do anything about it. With her out of the way, the Dark Lord could make his move and Draco could take out the Weasel. With them out of the way, the "the boy who lived" would have no one to help him, no one to turn to, and be depressed, broken, and alone. It was such a sweet plan Draco could practically taste it on his tongue.

He felt her draw near and as soon as she entered the door, Draco sprung into action.

He jumped from his place and muttered the counter spell and shoved the poor, unsuspecting, little Gryffindor against the walls.

"Hello, Granger," he growled and dug his nails into her alabaster skin as he shoved her harder against the wall, "a bit late for sending a letter, isn't it?" He watched through his silvery eyes as she squirmed and gasped for breath. It was so easy to make her feel pain and he relished the feeling of control but suddenly it stopped.

She stopped moving and simply laid her head back against the wood and looked at him straight in the eyes. He would have quietly gasped had he not been in so much control. Swimming around in those chocolate orbs was defiance, fight, stubbornness, but what gripped him were the resignation and his condemnation. He was so shaken he tried anything to get her back to a squirming, fearful little girl.

"What's the matter, mudblood? Aren't strong enough to fight back. Don't have to in you to fight back?" He closed his face in and wasn't' even half an inch from her nose. He stared straight in her eyes, but there was nothing. Not even a spark of fear.

"Has that stupid cat of yours got your tongue?" He half yelled as he dug his fingers in deeper and pressed her up against the wall as he dragged her body of the ground. She sucked in air and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them back in her iron mask. For a second, Draco wondered how something so light and delicate could be so strong.

"No."

At first he hadn't thought she said the word. It wasn't scared or cruel, it was simply determined. "Oh really?"

Then, taking him further by surprise, she craned her neck in and looked him directly in his eyes and into his head, "If you're going to kill me, then kills me. Slip something in me to make it look natural or kill me right here with your wand. You could do it, you're already a murderer, why would it be so hard now."

Draco just stared at her and then growled in her ear, "Watch your tongue, you fifthly mudblood!"

"Why? Because that might keep you from killing me? Killing me won't save your ass, killing me won't hurt Harry, Ron, or the Order." He looked back at her when she said it and she smirked, "What? I should keep that a secret because your precious Voldemort doesn't know about it? Or has he just not done anything about it. It's because he doesn't know who and where they are, does he?"

He growled again and leaned right at the nape of her neck and growled, "Don't be so sure of yourself, you stupid little girl."

She smirked and chuckled, "You don't get it do you, Draco?" He was stunned at her for using his first name, but more at what she was saying. This time she leaned in near his ear and whispered darkly, "If your master is so powerful, then why has been defeated three times and still must hide. If he's so great, then why is he so afraid of three tainted children, the mudblood, the orphan, and the poor little boy who has no skills?"

Draco looked back at her dug his fingers in so hard this time she moaned in pain and bit her lip. She laughed through her pain and asked, "Tell me Draco…. if you're so very proud and honorable and so very against anything but a pureblood, why are you giving your life for a half?"

That was when Draco dropped her and stumbled back. The needle he had been holding in the sleeve near his wrist fell forward and into his head. She still stayed against the wall and looked around for any defense while Draco stood away from her, panting.

She had just shattered everything he knew and now he didn't know what to do. He looked away and tried to reign himself back in, but was losing a battle.

"If you're going to kill me, then kill me now. I don't care about theatrics."

He looked at her again and whispered hoarsely, "Go."

She blinked several times and her face suddenly changed from defiant to confused. She was about to speak again when he practically shouted, "Go!"

She jumped and ran down to the door when she stopped and gripped the frame for support. Turning her head slightly, she whispered, "Thank you."

He was still panting and looked at the needle in his hand and threw wretched thing against the wall and stumbled away. She's right…the mudblood is right….

[End of Flashback

It was on that day that everything changed. He knew she had seen it too. He rarely called her anything and in his own was, was kind to her. His insults became more witty banter and his smirks became silent, secret smiles. He didn't know if she saw these or not, but she was smart enough to realize he was different. He acted different towards everyone else too, no matter his or her blood.

He began to fall in love with her too. She made him realize so many things. Throughout history and before the Dark Lord, Malfoys were the most powerful wizards and witches known to the rich, powerful, and everyone else. The Malfoys made decisions, influenced all, and in some cases, controlled all. It was only until Tom Riddle showed up that everything changed. He couldn't accept that. He was a Malfoy and he would be damned if he was controlled by a halfblood psychotic killer who only did this to get revenge on his parents. No, he was different. It was her.

It was because of her he started to slowly break away from his father's teachings and the Dark Lord's grip. It was why he shied away from the Golden Trio and especially her. The father he was from her, the less he was hurt. And then it had happened.

Draco looked at the tombstone and grimaced. It was because of his emotions that he was in this predicament. He had never really used them and governed more with is head than heart, except where she was concerned. His obsession had gone so far he could pick out her scent anywhere, knew her favorite subjects, who she was, where she was from, and who her parents were. He knew her moods, her language, when she was tired, when she was angry. He knew everything. It was because of what he knew that his father lay six feet under.

It was because of her defiance, her loyalty, her kindness, her unwillingness to give in, and mostly, her love-everything that wasn't him- that him and his life had truly and drastically changed.

Draco knew his father had been a favorite, just as Bellatrix Black, Barty Crouch JR., and Rodolphus Lestrange were his favorites. They were his inner circles, his private court, his only family-and Draco was planned to be his "adopted son." He simply had one task. To take out the mudblood and the Weasel and when approached his sixth year in the beginning and failed, the Dark Lord grew very anxious when he didn't approach it again in the beginning of the seventh. It was then Draco realized her words were correct, he was scared of them.

And when he asked his father to kill them with a simple Adva Kendura, Draco couldn't let it happen. He couldn't let her feel that heartbreak. She was still too innocent for the war. Let her believe Hogwarts is safe, let her believe she is still allowed to sleep and play within Dumbledore's walls.

And then, miracurously, his father was dead. He was under the care of his mother and although she was a pureblood and supported Lucsious, she didn't believe there needed to be a massacre. No, she had something else. For seventeen long years, Draco had been brainwashed to believe one thing. Then she changed everything he knew and now he knew he didn't fight on a side, but for those he loved, even if they didn't know at all.

No, she would never know how much he had helped her, how many times he had tried for her, how many things he had done for her, but she didn't need to. She was safe in her own world of black and white and that was the way he wanted it for her, because he wanted her to have that little frame to hang on to when everything else fall. And he would make sure anyone who got in the way of that was killed. Even it meant he could never return to Draco Malfoy.

He looked up one last time and began to leave. He could only be here a few more hours. He had a task to complete.