Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter-ish belong to JK Rowling.

Authors' Notes: Another fic! Yay. This was written for Jenjou for the dmhgficexchange on livejournal. It's loosely based on the line "We could flood the streets with love and light and heat, whatever." (The Youth, MGMT). Other prompts were a fist fight, experimental magic, and the WWN. Special thanks to lucilla_joanna, our beta, our younger sister Bish for helping us with some aspects of this story, and our best friend Issa for helping us come up with whatever is inside the ever-locked room. :)

Shameless plug: To those of you who enjoyed Forgettable Vows, the story was nominated in the first phase of the Dramione Awards! It still has to go through a seconding round before making the final cut, so if you've enjoyed it, please do vote. :) Thanks also to everyone who have reviewed- sorry we haven't yet been able to reply to everyone!

To bookworm62442- sorry, we can't seem to pm you. But sure, go ahead! It's a great idea. :)

Chapter 1

Draco exhaled with relief as he walked towards the entrance hall. His parents were still with the Aurors, being taken into custody, but the Aurors had ordered Draco to fetch Goyle, as Draco had said he had seen his friend sitting in the Entrance Hall. The Aurors knew he wouldn't run, not without a wand, and not if his parents would be left behind.

Goyle seemed to have wandered off, so Draco headed towards the stairs and paused, unsure whether to go down to the dungeons or up, perhaps to the nearest lavatory. A sound caught his ears, and he looked up to see Goyle on the first floor landing, his back to Draco. Draco was about to call his friend when he saw Hermione Granger's terrified face looking at him from over Goyle's shoulder. Shocked, Draco realized that Goyle had the Gryffindor pressed against the wall, his hands around her neck, choking her. Granger was gasping for breath, her hands futilely trying to force Goyle to let go of her throat. Without a second thought, Draco ran up the stairs. He didn't have a wand, so he did the next best thing- he rammed into Goyle as hard as he could, causing him to release Granger as he fell.

Draco landed on top of Goyle, but even before he could catch his breath Goyle landed a punch on Draco's cheek, causing Draco's head to snap back. "Back off, Malfoy," Goyle growled, forcefully shoving Draco aside. Draco knew Goyle was going for Granger again, so he struggled to his knees and punched Goyle as hard as he could. Goyle barely flinched.

"Don't kill her," Draco managed to say, ducking as Goyle swung again.

"She's the reason Vince's dead," Goyle yelled, catching Draco off-guard and kicking him in the stomach. "But you are too, Malfoy. If you'd just let us kill them, they'd be the ones burning in that room."

Draco gasped, doubled over in pain as Goyle kicked him again. He wished he had a wand; as weak as he was physically against Goyle, magically he was more than twice Goyle's superior. He rolled to the side to avoid Goyle's right foot and grabbed the bigger boy's left ankle, giving a strong tug. Goyle fell to the floor, cursing. "You'll pay for that, Malfoy," he promised menacingly.

"Stupefy!" A flash of red light lit up the corridor and hit Goyle on the chest. He slumped down, unconscious.

Draco looked up and saw Granger holding her wand. "Are you okay?" he asked, alarmed by the hoarseness of her voice, the paleness of her skin. She nodded, walking slowly towards them. Deciding he sounded too concerned, Draco said, "In case you didn't notice, Granger, the war just ended. You don't need to get into trouble anymore." He spoke slowly, as if explaining something to someone less than intelligent.

As she drew closer, he saw the tears filling up in her eyes, and wished he hadn't said anything. Goyle's attack on her was nothing to joke about.

"He took my wand," she whispered, her voice rough and trembling. She sank to her knees beside Draco, who had found a convenient wall to lean back against. "I was going down to tell the Weasleys that we had gone up to Gryffindor Tower, and he- he took my wand and threw it down the stairs, and he grabbed m-my throat," she stammered, blinking rapidly against the tears in her eyes. It was futile. Draco tentatively rubbed her back as she cried, ignoring the throbbing of his own injuries. He felt somewhat responsible for her, since he had just rescued her. "You came just in time," she sobbed. "I thought I was going to die."

"No, you weren't," he said reassuringly. "You're bloody immortal, you and Potter and Weasley."

Hermione hiccupped, giving him a watery smile as she tried to get herself under control. "Why did you save me?"

"I didn't," he denied, uncomfortable with the thought of being a hero. If there was any time he should have saved her, it should have been when his aunt was torturing her. The thought of his helplessness then made Draco cringe. "Goyle wouldn't have killed you," he lied. He wondered if Goyle would have killed him, too. Did he really cause Crabbe's death? Maybe if he'd been a hero a bit sooner, perhaps by stunning Crabbe in the Room of Hidden Things, his friend would still be alive.

"We both know that isn't true," she said softly, her fingers massaging her bruised throat. "You didn't kill Crabbe, Malfoy," she said after a while, as though she knew what he was thinking. "Neither of us did. You're not a killer."

Draco sucked in his breath. Dumbledore had told him the same thing. Perhaps it was true. He couldn't think about it just then. It felt incredibly odd to be sitting in a hallway, talking to Granger. "I've got to get back to my parents. The Aurors sent me to look for Goyle. What should we do with him?"

"I... I don't really want people knowing about this," Hermione admitted. "Harry and Ron would take it badly, and the Weasleys too. I was thinking we could Obliviate him."

"That's fine with me," Draco said, standing up. "Maybe you could heal us first, though. I don't want my mother noticing I got into a fight."

"Wait," she looked up at him suspiciously, getting to her feet. "You agree to this? You don't want to maybe use this to show that you're a- a good person?"

He shook his head. "I'm not a good person. But Goyle's in enough trouble already. And he's still my friend, he's just taking Crabbe's death badly. Besides, even if you tell everyone I saved you, they won't believe it. They'll say I staged it, or that it's typical of me using something like that to make them forget my past crimes... Consider it a matter of pride, Granger."

Hermione scoffed. "If that's what you want to call it, then fine."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively.

"I'm just saying I think there's more to it than pride, Malfoy." She raised her wand to his face, and he flinched. "Stop fidgeting, I'll heal you." He allowed her to heal his face and hand, even rolling up his shirt so she could heal his stomach. Once she was done Hermione conjured a mirror so she could see and fix the damage done to her neck. Then she Obliviated Goyle.

"Just wake him up and rush to the Great Hall," Draco suggested. She nodded, but hesitated when she got to the top of the stairs.

"Thank you, Malfoy. I'll never forget this," she said softly, before reviving Goyle and running down the stairs. Draco gazed after her, wondering if that was the last he would see of Hermione Granger.

-0-0-

"Our research has shown an exponential increase in Dementor population," Draco announced, giving his audience a somber look. "The Dementors were nearly all wiped out after the final battle at Hogwarts, after the defeat of the Dark Lord. Research is still ongoing to determine exactly why this happened. One possibility is the sacrifice of love," Draco made a conscious effort not to sneer or grimace, "done by Harry Potter. Another is that the sheer joy of the majority of the masses, that we were all finally free from the Dark Lord, managed to overcome the Dementors and perhaps destroy some of them. Those that were not destroyed went into hiding. However, once the initial celebrations died down and the process of rebuilding and moving on began, people truly began to mourn. We believe that this is one factor, if not the major factor, causing the return of the Dementors."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in. He saw some members of the audience shift uneasily. He waved his wand, conjuring a graph. "As you can see, the population of the Dementors was close to nothing, a year ago, after the final battle. The Dementors stayed away for a while, but three months later two Dementors were sighted in Aberdeen. Two months later, five Dementor sightings were reported, and Dr. Adams' methods of tracking Dementors revealed the presence of twelve Dementors in Great Britain. Now, a Dementor is sighted on an average of twice a week throughout Great Britain, and Dr. Adams has shown that there are now over a hundred and fifty Dementors spread across various parts of the UK. Dementors used to be confined to Azkaban, and so were out of the way of free citizens. Now, however, Dementors are not being used to guard prisoners in Azkaban, and pose a threat to the general population.

"What can be done? Research is still underway, however, there are, to date, no known methods for destroying Dementors. They shy away from Patronuses, and get weaker in the absence of strong emotions. This means that one possible strategy could be to round up the Dementors, using Patronuses, and keep them in captivity until they starve from lack of 'food'. However, no one knows how long this will take, or if it's even possible. One thing is certain, however, and that is that we must act, now, before their numbers increase again. Thank you."

The Minister, Kinglsey Shacklebolt, stood up. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. That's quite impressive, though very troubling." He looked at the assembled Department Heads. "Dr. Adams and Mr. Malfoy have uncovered a very pressing problem. The question is now, what can we do?"

Draco took a step back and sat down as the various Ministry officials began discussing possible solutions. He looked at his boss and mentor, Dr. Mortimer Adams, and found the tall, thin man already engrossed in a journal article. He sighed. So much for any positive feedback.

After his trial, which took place about five months after the Battle at Hogwarts, Draco had spent another three months searching for a job. Finally, he was taken on by Dr. Adams, Dementor Specialist, who didn't care if Draco was a Malfoy, so long as he was intelligent. Draco had spent the last four months helping Dr. Adams count the Dementor population, and trying to figure out a way to stop their numbers from increasing. It was an interesting, though depressing job. Dr. Adams, in his quest for knowledge, seemed immune to the effects of the soul suckers, but Draco wasn't. He was forced to relive his memories of the war- Crabbe's death, Dumbledore's death, the murder of the Muggle Studies professor, and countless other memories he would rather forget. Dr. Adams had managed to capture one Dementor, which he kept in the basement guarded by his chimp Patronus and some very powerful Light magic. Draco himself wasn't allowed too close, as the Dementor seemed to get excited by his presence, but he still felt affected.

Draco looked up, realizing that Kingsley was trying to get Dr. Adams' attention. "Mortimer!" Kinglsey called. Draco tapped his boss on the arm and nodded at Kingsley.

The Minister smiled gratefully at Draco. "We were thinking of getting the Aurors to round up the Dementors. Drive them into a certain area, confine them, if possible. How close do you think you are to finding out how to destroy them?"

"Tomorrow!" Dr. Adams said arrogantly. "We'll know how to destroy them by tomorrow."

Everyone, including Draco, stared at the scientist incredulously. "Tomorrow?" Kingsley repeated, stunned.

Dr. Adams laughed. "It's my turn to joke, Kingsley! Consider it payback for all the times you've referred to me as Mortisha Addams." He seemed to recollect that he had an audience, who were all watching him with thinly veiled amusement. Dr. Adams turned slightly red and cleared his throat.

"Our only lead," he continued, more subdued, "is the way the numbers of the Dementors decreased drastically after the defeat of the Dark Lord. So this could take a while."

"If there's any way the Ministry can help you, Mortimer, our resources are at your disposal." Kingsley looked around the room. "If there are no further questions, meeting adjourned."

Draco began keeping his notes as the others left. "Dr. Adams," he began, "do you think we should collaborate with the Department of Mysteries?"

"Bah," the temperamental scientist said scornfully. "The Department of Mysteries? What do they know? They don't study Dementors, they study less serious things, less significant things. Death. What does Death matter to the dead? Everyone will die. Time. As long as time goes forward, why do we need to play with it? Thought. Perhaps the only thing worth studying, how we think, how we remember. Prophecies! I can't believe the Ministry believes such drivel. Love. Who cares what love is, as long as they're in love?"

His protégé wasn't fazed, used to Mortimer's dramatic soliloquies. "Sir, don't you think love is one way to battle the Dementors?"

"The way to battle Dementors is through magic!" Dr. Adams declared. Then he paused, perhaps remembering his own philosophy of never discounting a possible solution. He sighed. "Very well. But research more on love before you go to the Ministry- Merlin forbid that you look like a bumbling idiot in front of them."