A/N: Hip hooray! I have returned to fan fiction. I hope everyone missed me. I would be very upset if you didn't. So I decided, since it is the end of my first semester in college that I would start with an all new story. I hope it is nearly as good as "The Life I Loved," but that remains to be seen. This is not DH compatible, and only part of HBP compatible. Dumbledore is not dead, and the Golden Trio is indeed attending their final year at Hogwarts. This will, of course, be a Draco/Hermione coupling, as if you didn't know me well enough already. But I think the other couples remain to be seen.

Disclaimer: I hope you didn't waste all your reading energy on the Author's Note because I need to tell you that these are not my characters, but only my plot.

Chapter One: Letters of Doubt.

The fog felt like a second cloak around young Draco Malfoy's skin as he climbed the steep steps up to the foyer of Malfoy Manor, trying to dispel the chills that were coursing down his spine like raindrops on a windowsill. Today was going to change the course of his life, either for good, or for worse. He pulled his midnight colored cloak tighter around his taut body as he wondered exactly what the course of tonight would have to be for his life to change for the better. He shook his head, sending pieces of platinum hair into flight around his almost pointy ears. Tonight would either change his life for the worse, or it would end his life all together.

He stopped outside the closed door to the ballroom, bracing himself mentally and physically for what he was about to endure. His father would be standing at the Dark Lord's right side, presumably to seem more important than he was. His mother would be at his father's side, like a loyal lap dog, although her eyes would show nothing but fear for her only son. Bellatrix would be in the front row, quivering with absolute delight. And the Dark Lord himself would be on his throne, in the center of the room, in the center of attention.

His forbidding presence had already snuck its tendrils through the crack in the door and squeezed Draco Malfoy's heartstrings tight. He took a deep breath, let go of his cloak, and swept into the room, letting his cloak billow out around him much like Severus Snape had always done when he was the Dark Lord's most trusted spy. But now Severus Snape was nothing more than Dumbledore's pocket monkey, as Bellatrix would say, and was only still alive by sheer force of will.

Draco kept his eyes straight forward, keeping his mind curiously blank of all thought as he heard the whispers start in his wake. He had been chosen by the Dark Lord to silently invade the Order's minds, and their battles. He had been chosen to give up his life for the cause, for surely when the final battle came around he would not live. He had been chosen, chosen to be marked for life, hated by both sides, feared by none. He had been chosen for greatness, but only on one side.

"Good evening, my Lord," he said, bowing low, feeling disgustingly like a house elf. He straightened and faced Voldemort, meeting the red slits of his eyes. Voldemort didn't answer, just stared, and Draco felt his mental composure slipping as Voldemort raked through his thoughts.

"What news have you for me, Draco?" He hissed lowly, speaking no louder than a whisper.

Draco did the same. "Potter will not be moved from the hideout until the day of September the first. He will be taken to the station in a Ministry car, full of Aurors. Dumbledore has arranged for there to be three cars, one with Potter, and two decoys. Potter will be in the first car, with the oaf Hagrid, the werewolf Lupin, and the Mudblood."

Voldemort showed no signs of gratitude, but Narcissa glanced up at him as if for approval for her son's information. Voldemort had given Draco difficult missions ever since Lucius had botched the retrieval of the prophecy almost two years back. His intention had been to drive Narcissa crazy with worry and grief that her son would no doubt die and make Lucius even angrier than he already was when he realized that the death of his son would only bring more disgrace.

But Draco just wouldn't die.

He had been through the Forbidden Forest last year, seen all the terrible creatures that lived within, from the centaurs to acromantulas, to the occasional werewolf that wandered in. He had walked out virtually unscathed, save for mentally. He had watched countless Muggles die after hours of useless torture, mostly beautiful girls that had followed him into the wrong dark alley. He had seen terrible things; he had committed terrible atrocities that he could never take back, just so he could stay alive.

"I have another mission for you, Draco," Voldemort hissed triumphantly. Narcissa let out a small breath.

"I will do whatever you wish, my Lord," Draco said, bowing again, disgusted with himself.

"It seems you are better than we expected at this espionage business. However, I need your talents elsewhere. You will kill the Weasley family."

"Yes my Lord."

"And the Mudblood. She's too valuable to Potter to leave alive."

Draco bowed. "Yes my Lord."

"You are dismissed."

And his ordeal was over. Draco leaned against the wall outside the ballroom, taking deep breaths to calm his frenzied heart. He stayed there for a few minutes, listening to the hum of voices on the other side of the wall, hoping against hope that no one was going to come outside and happen upon him there, leaning against the wall like an invalid.

He pushed himself away from the marble and trudged slowly to his bedroom, where he turned on the water as hot as he could stand and stepped into his shower, watching his alabaster skin turn the slightest shade of pink. He stood under the hot stream and watched the water slide over the ridges of his abs and hip bones, and ran his fingers over his small but noticeable scars from his treks into the wilderness, when the Dark Lord hoped he would never come out again.

He dried himself off with a fluffy towel and dressed in linen cream colored pants and a buttery soft shirt that clung to his torso. He locked his door securely with a few spells that he had seen Granger use a few times and Apparated to the front door of Grimmauld Place.

*********

"Oh come on Harry, give it back!" Hermione giggled, reaching up for her book that Harry Potter, now almost six feet tall, held high above her head. Her unruly mane of curls fell down to the middle of her shoulder blades as she tilted her neck upwards.

"It's summer, Hermione," he taunted as she leaped futilely for the book. "No reading allowed."

Hermione smirked, then reached into her pocket for her wand.

"No!" Harry yelped. "Here's your book!" and he was yanked into the air by his ankle. He squirmed, almost smacking his forehead against the chandelier. She removed the spell and he toppled on top of her, sending them both crashing to the floor.

They laughed hysterically for a second, and tried to catch their breath.

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the doorway.

Harry jumped off of Hermione. "Hermione levitated me then dropped me," he said, sounding rueful. Hermione flipped her hair away from her face and punched Harry on the arm.

"I wouldn't have if he hadn't kept stealing my book," she giggled.

Ron just stared at them, like he was looking at something particularly curious under a microscope. Hermione started fidgeting under his quizzical gaze. To distract herself from the growing tension, she snatched her book back from Harry and smacked him with it on her way back to her armchair.

"I just came to tell you that uh, dinner is ready," Ron said awkwardly, wringing his hands in front of his belt. Hermione closed her book and put it back on the shelf and followed Harry out the door.

"You could give him a chance, Hermione," Harry said quietly, trying to keep his words away from Ron. "He really likes you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, I gave him tons of chances last year, and he was still snogging Lavender in every corner of the castle. I forgave him for that, and now I'm content with being friends, because I don't know when he's going to choose to go off and snog some other tart again. If he likes me, he should open his mouth and say something. Maybe, if he says it right, I'll give him yet another chance." Harry looked triumphant. "Maybeeeeeeeee," she said, drawing out the word.

Harry nodded slyly, his mouth curved upward on one side.

"Harry James Potter, don't you dare tell him. Just let him grow up on his own." She waved her wand in front of his nose. Harry held up his hands in mock surrender.

"I won't. I won't." He took his seat next to Ron, who immediately moved to the other side of the table between Ginny and Fred. Harry looked over at Hermione, who spooned some potato soup into her bowl and ignored him.

Ron didn't speak all through dinner. Hermione kept up conversation with almost everyone at the table, and even made a few jokes in Ron's direction, hoping he would cheer up, but no such luck. Harry gave her a significant glance, as if to tell her "I told you so." Hermione ignored him.

"Your Hogwarts letters should be coming soon," Mrs. Weasley said to Hermione, who nodded excitedly.

"I'm so nervous! I hope I got Head Girl," she gushed. "The Heads have their own tower, and the prefects share their dormitory. If Head Boy is a Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or another Gryffindor, then it would be okay. As long as Head Boy isn't a Slytherin."

Fred chuckled and shook his head. "Who would they even choose as Head Boy from Slytherin? Malfoy? Please."

Hermione tilted her head to the right. "I was thinking more along the lines of Theodore Nott, but your guess is good too."

Fred chucked a roll at her.

*********

Ron was lying on his bed when Hermione knocked on his door.

"Can I come in?" she asked. Harry followed close behind her, looking concerned.

"I would rather you didn't," he said distantly, not taking his eyes off a cob web in the corner. Hermione ran her fingers through her curly hair, then yanked her hand out when her finger got caught on a tangle. Harry raised his eyebrows at her, then pushed her into the room anyway.

"Ron, cheer up."

"No."

Hermione looked back at Harry, praying for patience. He gave her a reassuring smile, then dug his elbow gently into her back to prod her onward. She compiled her speech in her mind, her points of how she didn't appreciate being played for a fool last term, how she wasn't sure if she could trust him with her feelings yet, but she was willing to give him a chance, and opened her mouth to speak, when Ron spoke again.

"Shouldn't you be off snogging Harry somewhere?" he said snidely.

Hermione blinked. "Excuse me?" she asked, her voice sliding up an octave. "Just because Harry likes to take my book and I accidentally drop him where I shouldn't, you think we're snogging?!" Her pale cheeks flushed with color, and Harry took a step away from the tirade.

"He was on top of you, Hermione! What do you want me to think?"

"I don't care what you think!" Hermione shrieked back at him. "But after we told you what happened, I would hope you would think we told you the truth!"

Ron didn't answer her.

"You know what Harry," Hermione said, turning her back to Ron. "Maybe Ron doesn't deserve another chance." She gave Harry a sneer that was slightly less terrifying than usual with a tear hanging from the tip of her eyelashes.

Ron sat upright in his bed quickly. But Hermione ignored him, and slammed the door on her way out.

"She was gonna –"

"Yep."

"And I just –"

"Probably."

"And she's never –"

"I seriously doubt it."

"Son of a BITCH!"

*********

Hermione Granger curled up on her bed, her book clutched tightly against her chest, and stared at the wall. She had only spared one tear for Ronald Weasley. She had cried enough over him last year when he had rubbed his relationship with Lavender Brown in her face. She had hoped, with all her heart, that he would come to her and tell her all the romantic things she wanted to hear. She had hoped he would be her first kiss. She wanted him to sweep her off her feet, to hold her when she cried. She didn't want him to make her cry.

But she was resolved. She wasn't going to cry anymore. She unrolled some parchment and dipped her quill in ink and started writing a letter, in her pretty cursive, to Viktor Krum.

Dear friend,

Today started off a good day. I wake in the morning ready for a day of greatness, ready to achieve something that I knew I was destined to achieve. Instead, I was heartbroken. To save myself the humiliation of sounding like a wretched, weak child, I digress. I stood at my window today, looking out onto London, and wondered, are we doing what we're supposed to do?

Are we really the good guys? Or are we somehow, maybe the lesser of two gigantic evils that no one could possibly hope to overthrow? Or are we just a futile attempt at changing fate, chasing a dream that can never be attained?

I wonder, as I wake up everyday, if this will be the day that I go to sleep and never wake up. I fear death, more than anything else. I know, with what my job entails, that it is a very real possibility, every day that I walk out the door, that I might never walk in. I know that every day could be my last, and I should live it the best I can.

And I try. Instead I get caught up in trivial things, like fighting with my friends, or reading a book by the fire. Is that what wise people meant by living your life to the fullest? Or did they want you to go out and be a hero, everyday?

I have no idea what the future holds. I thought I might, but since I never possessed a talent for Seeing, I'm sure now that I am totally wrong.

I miss you, dear friend, and wish you were here to guide me on these troubled days.

Love,

Your friend at Hogwarts.

She refused to put her name or Viktor's, should the letter be lost. She didn't reveal much in her letter, but to have so many doubts, and to be one of the Golden Trio…well, she didn't want to think about it.

She tied it to a tawny owl and let it go. She curled up on her bed again, tracing the curved letters on the front of her book, when she heard a loud crack.

*********

"Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy, I presume you are alright?" Dumbledore stood from his chair long enough for Malfoy to nod, then took his seat. He motioned for Malfoy to do the same, but Malfoy just shook his head and remained standing.

"I did it, Dumbledore. I told him everything and now he wants me to off the entire clan of redheads and Granger."

Malfoy started pacing back and forth, his sandaled feet making twacking sounds as the leather smacked against his heel. His platinum hair was still wet, leaving little drops on his black shirt.

"Well, you mustn't to that, of course," Dumbledore said calmly, watching Malfoy closely over his interlocked fingers.

"I know that! But I need you to tell me what I'm going to do. I've stayed alive this long, and I refuse to die now."

Outside the study, Hermione Granger leaned against the heavy door and stuck an Extendable ear next to her face. Who was dying?

"You must realize that this is going to be a very precarious situation, so we're going to need you to remain calm."

"I've remained calm for two long years. I've fought werewolves, centaurs, acromantulas, trolls, giants, and all sorts of other creatures that I don't even know the name of. I'm going against my family, so I can save them. I'm going against all I've ever known, and all I've ever been taught, just so my family might have a shot at living through this war. As it is, I probably won't even live to see tomorrow. I have tried, Dumbledore, to remain calm. One small slip up and I'm dead. I don't have Potter's courage."

Hermione pressed her ear farther against the door. Whoever was on the other side of this door had a voice that compelled her to listen to its story, and she was falling victim to it more and more with each passing second. He had the same doubts she did, but unlike she, he wasn't afraid to voice them. He was vulnerable, at least right now. It was as if he had read her letter to Viktor and had chosen to voice them right when she happened to be listening. She leaned against the door farther, listening even closer than she thought possible.

"I will let you stay here tonight, and I hope you will be comfortable. Give me tonight to think over the mission you were given, and I hope I can come up with a suitable plan of action by tomorrow morning. Good night."

Hermione leaped up and ran to the other side of the hallway, and the mysterious occupant of the room didn't walk by. However, Albus Dumbledore did. He clapped a hand on her shoulder and she jumped violently. He smiled serenely down at her.

"Miss Granger, would you do the honor of joining me in my study for a few minutes?"

His voice left no room for discussion.

Hermione followed him into the room she had just been wishing she was in, and was suddenly overcome by a reflex to run.

"Miss Granger, you really shouldn't have been listening at the doorway."

Hermione glanced up quickly, and met understanding blue eyes. Dumbledore wasn't reprimanding her, he going to let her in on the secret of the stranger in the room.

"Who was here, Professor?" She asked, unable to contain her questions until a more appropriate time.

"Miss Granger, I have to tell you, that the person that was here is a spy, deep within the Dark Lord's ranks, and he is on our side. Tonight he gave the Dark Lord very wrong information that will make it possible for our young Mr. Potter to get to Kings Cross and on the train safely. It is because of him that we will be able to keep Mr. Potter alive long enough to get to Hogwarts. I cannot tell you his name."

"Please Professor, if I could only talk with him…"

"There's nothing you could say that would make his decision to be a spy any less reckless, any safer, and even knowing his identity, even knowing he exists puts his very life at risk." Dumbledore shook his head. "I cannot tell you."

"I understand," Hermione hung her head, feeling chagrined. Dumbledore put his hand on her shoulder again.

"Do not feel bad, Miss Granger. Curiosity plagues us all. Especially when we're curious about someone that sounds like they know our innermost thoughts."

Hermione's head snapped up and Dumbledore smiled. "To bed with you, Miss Granger. All will be well in the morning."

But, Hermione thought bitterly, Dumbledore will have a plan by morning, and the stranger would be gone. She padded back to her room, thinking of ways to possibly find out where in the cavernous house he could be. She knocked lightly on Fred and George's door.

"Come on in Hermy," George said pleasantly. "Looking for a way to get Ronniekins back for being …well…himself?"

"Not exactly. I just wanted to ask you if you knew how many bedrooms there are in the house."

"Why?" Fred said.

"Looking to move?" Asked George.

"Just curiosity, that's all."

"Six," George said. "Six bedrooms anyway. There's one for you, one for Gin, one for me and Fred, one for Bill and Charlie, when they're here, one for Mom and Dad, one for Harry and Ron, and one empty one, I guess for random visitors, because we get so many."

Fred laughed. Hermione cracked a smile, but didn't laugh out loud.

"Thanks George, thanks Fred!" she called as she bolted from the room.

Hermione counted off the rooms as she ran. Ginny's was right next to hers, Harry's and Ron's right on the landing, Bill's and Charlie's on the first floor, Molly's and Arthur's right next to that, and the final room.

At the landing of the third floor.

Hermione pressed her ear against the door again, hoping to hear the stranger's voice. No sound came. She pulled out her wand and traced a small square on the thick wood, producing a small window. She peered in, hoping to catch a glance of the man. He was lying on the bed, his back to Hermione's small hole, but he wasn't under any blankets. His black shirt clung to obvious muscles that rippled across his back, and his pants looked expensive. His skin was the palest white, with a few small scars marring the tender spot on the back of his neck.

Hermione leaned forward, and smacked her head on the wall.

The man didn't move, but rolled over, and Hermione had to cover her mouth to keep a scream from coming out. Or maybe it was puke. She had been captivated, taken in, and entranced by the voice of Draco Malfoy.

A/N: Okay, so I like writing Malfoy's thoughts, and Malfoy's actions, and everything Malfoy a lot more than I liked doing anything to do with the Golden Trio. Buttttt, I decided that Harry will be sort of reckless but teasing and kind to his friends, Ron will be immature, clumsy, and kind of thick, Malfoy will be malicious, but not as much, and Hermione is very cautious, but she's at her wits end, remember. So hopefully I get some reviews, and I hope to have another chapter for you later. Thank you all for reading, if you read. Now click the buttonnnnnnn.