A/N: Here is my first Dramione…I hope everybody gives it a chance. The song 'Lay Me Down' by The Dirty Heads inspired me, and I went with it. The story is compliant with everything in the books except for the epilogue. Please read and review for me! I'm expecting to update every 2-3 weeks. I know there will be a lot of questions about what is going on, but the only thing I can say is…wait and see :)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all things associated are not mine. The song Lay Me Down is not mine, either. BUT I love both, so here you go.

CHAPTER 1 – THIS IS HOW IT STARTS

'This is how it starts, isn't it, Malfoy?' I half-heartedly ask without expecting a response. I'm not eighteen anymore. The strain in my thighs and the pain in my knees from the way I've been kneeling on the floor for the past half hour is beginning to become unbearable. The darkness of the room has been closing in on me from the moment I entered inside, and my headache brought on from the stress of the situation is getting worse as I continue to strain my eyes to see. I'm not asking him about the aches and pains of aging, but instead about my recent foray into so-called criminal activities. I think he knows this.

He answers my unclear rhetorical question with staccato sentences. 'Not now, Weasley. Focus. We trained for this.' Then perhaps out of concern he might have been too polite he tacks on, 'Shut up already, or this is how it'll end.'

I take his advice and close my mouth. There is no way I am going to get the safe open if I'm too busy analyzing my reasons for being here. The time that allowed for such a line of thinking has come and gone long ago. I tighten my hair tie, and with a quick swipe of my sleeve across my brow I get back to the intricate wandwork crucial to breaking through all the defenses thrown up around the safe. Whoever did the original work on this safe was a genius. Two thoughts comfort me while I quietly and carefully enunciate every spell I need. The first is I know what I'm doing. I don't usually admit it when it happens, but Malfoy is actually right about something this time; I have trained for this. The second comforting factor is he isn't watching me. I have never been able to stop my hands from shaking when someone looks over my shoulder, and he is ten feet away, peaking around corners, and waiting for any sign we aren't alone. I sincerely hope his wait is in vain. Unwanted company is the last thing we need right now.

Slowly, I rotate my wand left in a small circle, then jerk it upwards, and quickly back down as I finish what I suspect will be the last incantation necessary. From behind me I hear my companion suck in a breath of air. Several long moments pass while I stare in determination at the large box, willing with everything in me for the two metal plates acting as a cover to separate and reveal what's hidden beneath them. With each second gone I can sense Malfoy's increasing unease. I count to fifteen by the time he finally speaks up.

'It didn't take this long during our sessions. What's going on, dammit?' There is no panic in his voice, only annoyance. He starts to shuffle over to where I'm kneeling on the ground.

'This isn't practice Malfoy. It's the real deal as you've been telling me all night. It just needs a little longer.'

I sense, more from experience than from any kind of seer capabilities, he's about to say something irritating. Giving him a dose of his own behavior I raise my palm in his direction and order him, 'Quiet!' Then from what must have be out of habit I tack on a 'Please.' Luckily he doesn't have time to be offended, because my request for silence is immediately followed by a loud hissing noise as the two plates atop the safe start to slide apart. A small burst of smoke emanates from inside before abruptly dissipating. I let out a sigh of relief, knowing that what for me was going to be the hardest part of the nights adventure is now over. I've done it.

My knees are glued to the ground in disbelief over the feat I've accomplished. I've been in tough curse-breaking situations before; it comes with the territory of being an in-demand curse breaker, but this time the pressure has been ridiculously high. While I contemplate the ramifications of what we've just managed to do, it's Malfoy who makes the first move towards the safe. Before I completely register what's happening he's opening the bag he's been carrying since we started our mission earlier in the evening, and transferring a package from where it's been resting for the last several months to his bag. Again he reaches into the safe, and this time he produces a handful of envelopes.

Seeing Malfoy in action spurs me to my feet. It doesn't happen often, but staring up at his face I'm able to witness one of those rare moments where he allows himself to smile and feel a bit of happiness. I watch the slight grin spread across his face. He holds the envelopes up, fanning them out for me to see. There they are. Four of them. My fingers itch to find out what exactly is contained within. We have an inkling as to what it might be, but there's no guarantee.

Malfoy continues to stare at me wide-eyed. 'Weasley, do you know what this is? All of it, it's all here. It has to be. Do you realize what we can do with this? Where this could possibly lead?'

Even though I don't really want to bring him back from the happy place he's drifted off to, I don't know much time we have left before someone notices we are where we shouldn't be. I decide to burst his bubble. 'I've got it, Malfoy. I know what I've signed up for, but we need to get out of here. Put those,' I point to the envelopes, 'in your bag. Now. We can't even be positive yet that these are the papers. And who bloody knows what may be in that box.'

'Well, this better be the proof we need. Otherwise we've broken into one of London's most well guarded buildings for absolutely no reason. It has to be, Weasley. Why else would a safe that has obviously been protected by wizards be kept in a muggle building that is being secured by some of the slimiest dark wizards and crooked politicians alive today?'

'Careful there, Malfoy. You're one of those crooked politicians.'

He stares at me with his left eyebrow quirked upward and puts on his serious face. 'I'd like to think both my current and future actions will prove that statement false.'

For perhaps the millionth time in the last few months, the thought crosses my mind that it doesn't matter if he's trying to do good now. He's still an arrogant arse. Who knows, anyway? The whole story he concocted and came to tell me after everything that happened with Ron...it could all be a farce. I let the matter slide knowing now is not the time or place. Well, I almost let is slide.

'Think all you want, it won't –' but I never get to finish my sentence. A loud bang reverberates throughout the room as door at the opposite end of the hallway slams against the wall with great force. We can't see who our new friends are yet, but thanks to their clumsy entrance into the hall we have about ten seconds to get our act together. From the multitude of footsteps thudding their way in our direction, it sounds as if there are at least five people about to try and prevent our safe escape with our loot in tow.

Here's where the next step of our months upon months of training comes in. The moment we hear the crash beyond the door to the office we've been raiding, our escape plan is set into action.

With ten seconds left, I whisper, 'Nox.'

With nine seconds left, Malfoy flicks his wand in the direction of the door and closes it.

With eight, seven, six, and five seconds left, I levitate a wood desk in front of the door. The sweat that developed on my forehead while I worked the safe earlier is now tripled with the effort of moving the heavy office furniture.

With four seconds left, Malfoy finds and begins to activate our port key.

With three seconds left we finally look at each other, and I see not even a trace of panic cross over his features. I'm positive the same cannot be said for me.

With two seconds left I hear a body being heaved against the door in an attempt to break in.

With one second left I reach for Malfoy and the port key.

As I finally grab hold, the door is blown in. Thankfully, I feel my stomach turn, and then the room spirals. The last thing to register in my mind before reappearing on the third floor of the building is the image of the last person I wanted to see, but I am not surprised in any way, shape, or form. I would be more surprised if I didn't see him.

Still, although I recognize Head Auror Sparks, I most certainly do not want him to recognize me. So, it's a good thing I allowed Malfoy to talk me into certain changes – I am now platinum blonde. I firmly believe it's one of the most awful things he's ever done to me, and that's saying a lot. I've had straight blonde hair quite a bit as of late. It was at Malfoy's insistence, when he first came to me with this whole ridiculous conspiracy theory and I reluctantly agreed to his plan of action, that I began to spend a good portion of my waking hours in disguise. I didn't much enjoy it at first, but I can now look into a mirror without being started by my reflection. I will not go so far as to admit that I like it, but I will say I can at least tolerate my 'new do'.

Then there's my eye color. If the best way to describe my reaction to my hair is 'bothered' then the most appropriate word for my reaction to my honey brown eye color morphing to a green is 'saddened.' Colorful eyes, anything other than brown make me think of Ron, and all of the feelings I can push away while I'm busy or distracted come flying right back to me.

Still, it's worth it. I'm doing this for him. He will not have died in vain.

I will get the witches and wizards responsible for the gaping hole left in my life, but to do that I need to get out of this building alive.

All things in good time. So, next on my 'to-do' list is getting my feet steady on the ground. I lack the innate skill necessary to land without stumbling after travelling by port key. I've always had rough landings, and this one with Malfoy is no exception. However, I manage to not fall flat on my arse because Malfoy, already expecting my less than polished finish, has grabbed my elbow and righted me almost before I realize I'm not standing straight up anymore.

'Merlin, Weasley. It's as if you've never used your legs before. Every single time we do this…' His voice trails of while he mumbles the rest of his sentence beneath his breath. I know he's complaining about my clumsiness. He's done this more than once, and I'm sure he'll be doing it again the first chance he gets. His mumbling gradually ceases as he first looks left, then right in confusion. I see his brow furrow, and he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth with a grace I know I will never possess.

'Fuck!' he whispers, and an angry glint comes to his eyes.

A sinking feeling forms in my stomach as I realize what's happened. Or rather, as I realize what hasn't.

'This isn't the third floor, is it? Malfoy? There's supposed to be a bridge leading to the car park. Right here. What's going on?' The panic in my voice is increasing with each word I speak. I can hear the trembling getting worse, while the pitch of my voice creeps higher and higher, but there's nothing I can do about it. I don't know when this happened to me. When I was young I was fearless. I'm not even old. 'Young' feels like yesterday. I'm only 25. Why am I so scared?

The habits that have been ingrained in me since my childhood take over and I look for anything about our situation I can control.

There it is. I spot what I can deal with easily seeing as I'm standing next to one of the people I can tolerate least in this world. The stupid prat still has the envelopes we pulled from the safe in his hand.

In near hysterics, I shout at him, 'Malfoy, put those in your bag. Merlin help me. If you lose them, I might murder you myself if the goons after us don't beat me to it!'

The anger in his eye briefly switches to annoyance. He holds our hard earned rewards up to my face.

"I have them right here. They're all safe,' he says smugly. 'See? One. Two. Three…' and for the second time in the last minute his voice trails off.

A person can only count three envelopes if that's all there is to count. The fourth isn't there.

I feel like crying. I feel like screaming. I feel like kicking the shite out of Malfoy as soon as we get out of this mess.

We spare a quick look into each other's eyes, and I recognize the range of emotions that race across his features. There's a slideshow of frustration and fury, but the one that catches me by surprise is the supreme sense of disappointment that radiates from him, and then there's the fact that he's allowing me to see it. From the beginning of this entire...thing…I've been able to count on Malfoy to keep us both focused and upbeat. He is the one constantly pushing us forward, convinced we can do the impossible. Unfortunately, right now I'm too angry with him, and too nervous about escaping safely, that I don't have the patience or time to delve into why my companion has suddenly decided to wear his heart on his sleeve.

At the same time we break eye contact and drop our attention to the floor. I suspect he is having the same reaction I am, and is hoping against all odds that the envelope simply slipped from his hand upon landing and fell to the floor here in the foreign hallway we should never have ended up in, as opposed to the office we just left.

We aren't so lucky, though. The envelope is nowhere to be seen.

Malfoy plummets to the floor, rests his head on the linoleum and bangs his fist as hard as he can against it.

Again he curses, except this time it is loud instead of whispered, 'Fuck!' He takes maybe two seconds to himself before he stands back up. The fire I've come to be familiar with is back in his eyes. If anything, it's stronger than it was. While he was on the floor he must've realized something, or had some thought that strengthened his resolve, because he's all business again. This is the Malfoy I'm more comfortable with. I haven't seen him lose control since Hogwarts.

I watch as he tightens his hands into fists, all of the muscles in his arms becoming taught, and then he stretches his fingers out. This is how he calms himself down when he becomes frustrated. I've witnessed him do this before; for example, when I first turned down his crazy idea.

He glances in my direction for the first time since rising from the floor, and says to me, 'We have to get out of here.'

My voice shakes as I respond with the greatest sense of calm I can currently muster. 'Yeah, yeah. I mean, yes. Ok.'

Malfoy steps in front of me, and to my surprise, places his each of his hands on my cheeks and looks me in the eye.

'We can do this, Weasley. They don't know where in the building we are yet. I'm willing to bet we have three, maybe four, minutes before they can track us. We need to keep moving, and get to the car.' He takes a deep breath and blinks several times. 'They've obviously scrambled the coordinates here in the building, but this means until they reverse that bit of magic, they won't be ending up at their intended locations either. So, apparition and port keys are out. Now, listen carefully.'

He waits for me to nod my head, still cradled by his hands, in recognition of his request. I do so without hesitation. Even I, Queen of Stubborn, can tell this is not the time for arguing.

'Stay right behind me at all times. Do not get separated. Do you hear me?'

'I'm right here with you, Malfoy. Of course I hear you.'

He bobs his head back and forth a few times and drops his hands away from my cheeks. It felt weird with his hands there; now it feels weird without them. My face must be on fire. I swear it's going to burst into flames any second, but before it can, Malfoy turns and walks down the hall at an incredible pace. I delay just a moment, then I'm right on his heels. The sound of crashing metal echoes all around us Malfoy pushes through door after door, increasing our pace until we are running.

We go left, then left again. Rows and rows of office doors become a blur as we pass by them. I pass through alternating short stretches of light and longer stretches of darkness. Only a small number of the fluorescent overhead lights are on at this time of night. A red exit sign hangs above a door in the distance and we make our way to it.

Our feet slap loudly against concrete as we fly down multiple flights of stairs, abandoning all pretenses of being quiet and stealthy in our mission. It occurs to me maybe I should add this to my daily workout. The stair climb, not the 'running from bad guys' routine. I'm way more tired than I should be.

Malfoy never looks over his shoulder to make sure I'm right with him. He's either extremely focused, or I'm making enough noise to let him know I haven't fallen behind. When we make it to the end of our descent down the stairwell he pushes through yet another heavy door. It echoes even more loudly than the others in the cold, bare room.

I don't know how we've managed it, but Malfoy has gotten us to the car park. He moves fast across the shadows, heading to my left. All we need is to find our getaway car and get out of this place. A sense of relief comes over me, but I take only three steps into the dimly lit garage when I hear the worst sound I can imagine at the moment. It's a voice I wasn't sure if I would hear tonight. With it, my sense of relief disappears completely and is replaced with dread.

The only wizard who strikes as much fear in me as Auror Sparks, is his right-hand man: the infamous Billy Green. Otherwise known as evil incarnate. Sparks may be the brains behind this whole nefarious plot for power, at least as far as we know, but Billy Green is more than just the muscle. He's a smart man. In fact his intelligence is matched only by complete and utter lack of morality, ethics, compassion, and all those other things that make humans human.

While Sparks works within the law, Billy Green works all around it, outside of it…it might as well not exist.

Green chuckles quietly. With each second his laughter grows louder, and more menacing. My knuckles go white as I grip my wand tighter and tighter.

My dread begins to morph into to anger. It builds slowly as I turn to face the man I hate most in the world.

This is the man that killed my husband.

This – this could be my chance for revenge.

'You bastard!' I spit out. My voice drops to a low tone in anger, and the words come off like a snarl. My wand hand trembles at my side. I don't dare to raise it while Green has his wand pointed straight at me. The laughter dies in his throat and he head tilts his head to the side as if trying to figure something out. Putting one foot in front of the other, he glides slowly closer to me as he continues to stare. It's eerie how smoothly he moves. He might as well have floated over to me. I wonder what he is doing looking at me the way he is.

Then it clicks in my head – my disguise. In the shadows he can't clearly see my features. He doesn't know who I am. I berate myself silently for having spoken anything other than a curse. I know he is familiar with my voice, and I can only hope my few spoken words won't be recognized.

He moves the tip of his wand to his own throat and quickly mutters, 'I've got one,' and then he has it is pointed back at me again. Still, his wand had been moved just long enough for me to now have mine pointed at him as well. His eyes flash, but he smiles at me. It's a strange thing to think at a moment like this, but I can't help but take note of how white his teeth are. I've seen him before, but I've never been this close to him. His teeth are so white they stand out in the darkness.

Even as he speaks to me he continues to smile.

'We're going to head inside now, and you are going to answer some questions.'

I keep my voice low, intentionally this time, and decide short responses will be the safest bet in this conversation. 'Never.'

He laughs again. 'Oh, contraire, my sweet.' He barely flicks his wand to the side and I feel a horrendous pain on the side of my face. He's silently slashed my cheek, and I know I won't be able to tell how deep the cut is until I get the chance to look at it later. It hurts so much, but I try not to flinch. I won't give him the satisfaction.

A growl escapes his throat. 'I have my ways of making you talk. You will spill your secrets, girl, or I will spill your blood.'

The face off I have going with Green is growing old. That, and I know his call for reinforcements will soon be answered. If I'm going to get him, I need to do it already.

'Expeliar-' I can't finish my spell because he's throwing his own back at me. Don't get me wrong; I'm an amazingly brilliant witch. But, I haven't seriously dueled since Hogwarts. I'm a curse breaker for crying out loud. Practice makes perfect, and I spend all of my time breaking into vaults so that the professional witches and wizards can make the curses on those vaults tougher and more foolproof. Well, that's what I do when I'm not breaking into vaults for Malfoy.

It's safe to say Green has more experience in this dueling business than I do.

So I keep moving. I'll at least make it tougher for him to hit me with another spell. I badly want to see Green taken down – for my sake, for Ron's sake, for the future that should have been, but never will be. It burns me to admit that I am no match for this man when it comes to dueling.

We both continue to throw spells at one another, while I duck, twist, and turn to avoid being hit. I maneuver us backwards a little bit, repositioning myself so that a concrete column is between us, and I press my back flat against it. The cool of the column almost burns through my shirt against the heat of my back. My chest is heaving up and down, my lungs taking in air and letting it out. I have spent the last ten minutes of my life in constant motion. My eyes flutter closed for a second while I try to catch my breath.

There are only two noises I hear right now - my own breathing and Green's footsteps as he begins to circle around to where I am standing.

I breathe in. I breathe out. Green steps to my right once, then twice, then three times. *Thud, thud, thud* against the ground.

So it's an understatement to say I'm stunned when the next sound I hear is Green's body being hit by a car.

As I step from around the column, I don't think I've ever been more grateful to see Malfoy. The windows are down and he says, 'Get in.'

I open the car door and do as he says. He puts the car in reverse and backs up faster than I'm sure is harmless. There is a huge commotion outside the car, and as I glance in the side mirror I see that Green's reinforcements have indeed arrived, Auror Sparks included. I look down at Malfoy's left hand and watch as he shifts the car into first gear. There is strength in everything he does. Even driving.

He revs the engine and the car takes off. Behind us I can hear Green scream, 'They're on the run!' and spells begin flying by the open window of the car door.

'Put your window up, Weasley,' he commands me. There is not an ounce of friendliness in his voice and it startles me.

For a moment I just sit there, but another spell flying by jolts me into pressing the window button on the door. The sounds of the men chasing after us on foot die down as the window goes up.

'I thought I told you to stay with me,' Malfoy says to me. 'You could thank me, you know. For saving your sorry arse after you tried to start a fight with one of the most vicious wizards alive.' He pauses before saying to me something he's said before, 'You can get your revenge later when the time is right.'

What should I say to him? Sorry, I became distracted? Instead of responding to his accusation I change the subject.

'I thought cars make noises when you turn them on and drive.'

He looks down at me from the side of his eyes. 'They do unless you're a talented wizard.'

Point taken. Cocky bastard.

The car rounds the final corner before smashing through and obliterating the candy-cane striped pole that had been blocking the exit, and we enter onto the streets of London as pieces of PVC go flying in all directions.

'What's next Malfoy?'

I'm nervous about what he might say. Tonight was supposed to be an in and out job. They weren't supposed to know we'd been there till morning. Days, even, if we were lucky.

'We can't stay here. If they find the envelope I dropped, they'll have my fingerprints. And they got too good a look at you. Staying here and being found out is not a chance I'm willing to take. We'll have to follow our leads from the road.'

'What do you mean? Where are we going? Malfoy, we haven't planned this out at all,' I say to him trying to calmly rationalize the situation. I can't just leave. I have a job, a home, friends…

He looks straight ahead just as calmly. 'No. We haven't planned this.'

The emphasis he places on we doesn't escape me. He knew all along the possibility of being discovered existed, and he didn't share any of his thoughts on the subject.

'Ok, so you had a back up plan all ready to go and you weren't going to let me in on it?'

He gave me a look that pretty much said duh. 'It wasn't supposed to be necessary.'

I turn to look out the window. He's right, of course. It's not safe for us here if they figure out who he is, which is entirely likely. If only Malfoy hadn't fucked up, then we'd be in a different situation. I can only hope whatever is in the envelope he lost is not the most important piece of information we are collecting.

'I need to pack, Malfoy. Do I have time to do that?'

'It's already done for you.'

He frustrates me so much sometimes, but I'm exhausted and I don't feel like berating him for invading my personal space. It won't change anything; he's already gone and done it. He'll probably continue to do equally infuriating things in the future. I do wonder, though, if he grabbed anything of sentimental value for me. With the way things are going for me he's going to tell me we have to travel light.

I lean back in my chair and turn my head to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. I hate being left in the dark, so I need to get some details out of him. This bloke can be tougher to crack than worst of curses. Still, I'm the best in my field. I'll save crucifying him for his horrible mistake with the envelope for later.

'I'm only going to ask one more time. Where are we going?'

He finally looks over at me, and his lip twitches as he responds with one word.

'South.'

I hope you liked the first installment...don't forget to tell me what you think!