Summary: Draco Malfoy needs protection from the Dark Lord, so he begrudgingly gets Dumbledore's help. The headmaster sends him on a mission to find Vela Malfoy's heirloom, which may or may not be able to undo the resurrection process Peter Pettigrew used to bring back Voldemort.

But there's one slight catch Draco wasn't informed of when agreeing to this mission.

A certain bushy-haired, incredibly intelligent mudblood would be accompanying him.

A/N

This fic will have mature content, explicit sexual scenes, foul language, yada yada yada. Please review, I love constructive criticism ;)

Beliefs, by doubted

"A belief is not merely an idea the mind possesses. It is an idea that possesses the mind."-Robert Oxton Bolton

*~*Chapter 1*~*

"I worry about her, Albus." McGonagall's hands were clasped in front of her, and the concern was evident in her posture. "Hermione needs a purpose." The professor had always cared for the bookwormish girl, she saw a bright future ahead of her.

Dumbledore looked at her thoughtfully. There was the slightest hint of a twinkle in his eyes. He spoke slowly. "Alas, Minerva. You must trust me."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione's shoes slapped against the stone floor as she left her last class and strode towards the library. Brushing past crowds of loitering students, her feet led her without even thinking.

The route to her favorite place in Hogwarts was well memorized in Hermione's mind. Her strides were purposeful and her eyes narrowed in a look of determination. Despite the hurt she felt at her two best friends leaving her behind, Hermione insisted to herself that she would not just sit here and be useless while Harry and Ron were away.

She would continue researching and reading every book she could find on dark magic until she found something useful to the cause.

Harry had left 2 weeks ago with the Order to travel and warn wizards, and some other species, about the impending war. And hopefully also recruit some allies. Ron had gone with, but no one had told Hermione anything until after they'd left. Dumbledore had said Ron and Harry had decided they'd rather keep her here, out of harm's way. She seethed. How could they be so stupid? They needed her help.

Turning the last corner, she reached the entrance of the Hogwarts library. She let out a frustrated breath and pulled open the doors.

The late September afternoon light streamed through the windows, bathing everything in a warm golden glow and illuminating the particles of dust floating through the air. Two third year Hufflepuffs sat at a table nearby, discussing something in a whisper. Hermione padded inside and set her books down at a table near the back corner, as the Hufflepuffs were sitting at her usual seat. Sighing quietly, she picked up where she had left off in the heavy volume of; "Early Forms of Dark Magic", and resumed her research.

xxxxxxxxx

Draco lay on his dorm's bed and stretched, his muscles flexing under his shirt. The window was open, letting in the cool evening air. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered where he would be a year from now. Would he be dead? He sighed and shut his eyes. He could be.

It was possible that he could be dead by this time next year.

Not wanting to think about that, he tried hard to think about other things. His mind flitted from quidditch, to Pansy Parkinson, to his father, then Voldemort, then back to death.

He didn't want to die. He really didn't want to die. He had things he wanted to do with his life. Ambitions. Hopes and dreams.

Draco didn't want to take the mark. He had heard of the things it could do to a person. It was rumored the tattoo tainted you. Blackened and twisted your soul until you were just another mindless soldier to the darkness. He was perfectly content being a prat, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be a murderer.

Frankly, the mark scared him. When Lucius had taken it, he had noticed changes in his demeanor. The proud gleam in his eye was slowly fading to a deranged hollowness.

Lucius had been pressuring him to take the mark, but he had put it off thus far. He had a terrible fear of losing himself in it.

Sighing through his nose, Draco rubbed his neck. He didn't see any way out of it. It's not like he could just say; "yeah hey, great army and all, but I think I'll pass" to the dark lord. He would just have to keep putting it off until he figured something out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione hadn't noticed the light from the windows dimming until her eyes began to droop and her vision was fuzzy with exhaustion. But by that time, it was already dark. She yawned and dragged her attention away from the words in front of her to peer out the window, confused for a second before realizing she'd probably been there for quite some time. Her back creaked and popped as she moved out of the hard chair, and she gathered her books in her arms. Straightening too quickly, she swayed then shut her eyes, fighting dizziness. She meandered back towards the library door and out into the corridor. Too tired to walk with purpose, she trudged along, her feet dragging and her books feeling heavier than they had earlier. The Gryffindor portrait allowed her inside, and she continued up to her room, still swaying with exhaustion. Since Harry and Ron left, her sleeping patterns had all gone to hell. As had her eating. She often skipped meals to research, and her appearance was going downhill quickly. She was too skinny to be healthy, and her curly mane of hair had turned dull from lack of nutrition. There were dark rings under her eyes and her overall skin tone had turned a greyish pale. Hermione tried not to notice, continuing to lose herself completely in her work.

She entered her dorm and dropped her books on her desk. Being head girl, she had a dorm to herself, and she much enjoyed the solitude. It allowed her to concentrate better. As much as she enjoyed having friends, she didn't want the distraction of maintaining a social life. She wanted to focus on her research. They were at war after all, her personal needs could wait.

xxxxxxxxxxxx Saturday

"Rnnf," Hermione woke abruptly with a grunt. Her face was smushed into her pillow. She began to turn her head, and then stopped suddenly with a wince. The beginnings of a migraine blossomed behind her eyes, and she cursed. Turning as slowly as she could manage, she rolled on her back. When the bright sunlight shined through her window and assaulted her eyes, she winced again and pulled a blanket over her head.

She felt muddled and confused. Thinking back to the night previous, she couldn't remember when exactly she had fallen asleep. She was tangled in a mess of her bedding and her hair was even fluffier than normal. She was dressed in a mixture of pajamas and school robes. Sitting up slowly, as to not annoy her headache, she glanced at the small clock on the wall. It took a few seconds for her still sleepy brain to register the time, then her eyes widened. She was late for Potions! Ignoring the protesting pain in her head, she threw more clothing on as quickly as possible, and used her wand to summon her books. They flew through the air and landed in her arms with a hurried thunk. Hermione stumbled out the door and ran down the hallway, not fully paying attention to where she was going. She sprinted around a corner, her tractionless shoes sliding a bit on the stone. She hardly had time to slow down before she ran right smack into Ginny.

"Woah, slow down, why the rush?" Ginny's hands had clasped around Hermione's upper arms when the frazzled brunette had crashed into her. Ginny steadied her as she swayed, and she shook her head to try and clear her mental fog. She instantly regretted it when her headache pounded in protest.

She let out an involuntary whimper, and quickly attempted to turn it in to an annoyed whine. Judging by the worried look on the redhead's face, she hadn't bought it.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, I'm late for class. I really need to be going." She made to pull herself from the steadying hands, but the other girl tightened her grip.

"Hermione, its Saturday." Ginny's lips were pressed together and her eyebrows drawn down in a look of concern. That look was only amplified when she took in Hermione's sickly appearance. The brunette's eyes were glazed yet still panicked and wide, her lips were chapped, and her skin was grey. Her hair was a rat's nest and she couldn't seem to catch her breath, her chest heaving.

"What? That's not right..." Hermione's mistake dawned on her then, and her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.

"Hermione, are you feeling alright? You look ill." Ginny paused and frowned, looking worried. "Do you want me to take you to Madam Pomfrey?" she asked uncertainly.

Hermione was hit with a pang of affection then, and she smiled weakly. It was reassuring to know that someone cared, but she still refused the offer. She would hate to distract the nurse with her petty insomnia issues. There could be other students needing medical attention.

"No. I'm alright Ginny, thanks. I'll just head back to my dorm and get some more sleep." The Weasley sister looked doubtful, but Hermione smiled again and left before she could protest. Spinning on her heel, she attempted to walk with dignity back to her dorm.

xxxxxxxxxxxx Sunday

Draco paced angrily, oblivious to the glares Snape was giving him.

"Sit down." Snape growled. Draco didn't seem to hear him.

Draco had thought through his situation many times in the night, and had come to the conclusion that he needed help. He shoved down his pride and went to his mentor in the morning, telling him his doubts about Voldemort, and his dread about taking the mark. Draco knew Snape was a spy for the order, but had agreed not to tell his family or Voldemort. He would rather not see his mentor killed. Snape hadn't seemed at all surprised that Draco was unwilling to serve the Dark Lord. He had seemed like he knew all of it already. Draco was a little panicked at that thought, were his doubts that obvious to anyone? Surely not, or his father would've punished him. He inwardly shuddered at that thought. Lucius had never been particularly fatherly, but lately he had seemed much crueler. Never showing any signs of affection, and pinning everything on Draco when something went wrong. Draco still felt the need to make his father proud, but he couldn't go any farther. He wouldn't become a death-eater. He couldn't do that.

"I thought you said he was here. Where the hell is he?" Draco spat in Snape's direction, growing more agitated by the second. After Draco had told Snape about his predicament, much to his dismay, his mentor had gone to Dumbledore. They had been in the headmaster's office for probably a good ten minutes now, and Draco wasn't one to be patient. Snape was sitting in one of the chairs near the corner, while Draco continued pacing. He hadn't slept a wink last night, but he was still full to the brim with angry pent up energy. He would have much preferred to leave the old headmaster out of this, but Snape had insisted Dumbledore could offer protection. A safehouse perhaps, somewhere where Voldemort couldn't find him once it was known Draco was a traitor.

Draco would be a traitor. To one of the most powerful evil wizards of all time. He felt suddenly sick.

Hearing the headmaster enter, Draco whirled in his direction.

"Took you bloody long enough," Draco snarled.

Dumbledore's grey robes swished as he moved into the room. He hadn't yet looked at Draco, simply turning to face Snape in the corner. His face was lined with wrinkles, and his eyes showed wisdom. "Severus, I have spoken good friend about a place which could offer Mr. Malfoy protection, but I'm afraid I must ask a favor of him first. One that has to do with his family," Albus ignored Draco and solely spoke to his mentor. Draco silently fumed at the brush off, but didn't say anything. Then, as the headmaster's words sunk in, Draco grew wary.

"What will you have him do?" Snape asked slowly. Even reclining on a plush chair, Draco's mentor looked menacing. His dark robes were the same color as his lanky hair, and his eyes were cold. His voice was a low growl.

"As you well know, we are at war. And we need all the help we can get." Dumbledore paused, looking to Draco, acknowledging his presence for the first time, and then looking back to Snape. "I have been informed that the Malfoy family possesses an heirloom that could help us win this war. I would, if possible, like Mr. Malfoy to retrieve it." Draco was baffled. He had no idea what the headmaster was talking about. An artifact that his family owned that could help win the war? He'd never heard of such a thing. Maybe the headmaster really was a loon. He definitely seemed like it sometimes.

Draco huffed. "There is no such thing," he said. If his family owned something like that, surely he would know about it. Wouldn't he?

"It was owned by your ancestors long ago, and it's been lost. I'd like you to find it." The headmaster seemed completely sure of his knowledge, his voice steady. Draco truly believed he was a loon.

"Are you bloody insane? I have no idea where it would be. You said yourself it was lost." Draco's spat out each word.

"I'm confident in your capabilities, but just in case, I've enlisted one of our best researchers in Hogwarts to help you." The headmaster seemed unfazed by Draco's agitated state. "And as soon as you've located it, I have a place arranged for you where you'll be safe."

Draco faltered at the headmaster's words. It would be nice to stop constantly worrying about death and the Dark Lord. Truly safe… It was tempting. But what if Voldemort won the war? What would Draco do then?

He stopped his train of thought. Thinking about that wouldn't help. He couldn't join Voldemort's side. He had to rely on the goody-gryffindors to win the war.

With that thought, Draco realized that his situation might actually be worse than he imagined. Fucking peachy.

"Well what is the damn thing, anyways?" he asked. He was honestly curious.

"Your ancestor, Vela Malfoy was a great witch. However, she dabbled quite a bit in the dark arts. It is believed she created a magical item that had the ability to reverse magical resurrection, and it only requires a single incantation. I believe it could also reverse the certain ritual that Voldemort used to regain his body."

Draco gaped. Could it be that simple? Would Dumbledore trust him with such an important task? Then he remembered; the headmaster was sending someone else on the mission as well.

"Who would be going with me?" he asked cautiously. He had a niggling feeling, due to Dumbledore's expression at that moment, that he wouldn't like the answer.

"I haven't approached her yet, but she's been eager to help with the war. She's quite brilliant." The headmaster's eyes twinkle. He hadn't quite answered the question.

Draco's eyes narrowed, but Snape interrupted him before he could ask anything more. "It would be wise to accept the offer." Snape commanded. He would almost say he caught a look of worry flash across his mentor's face. What would he be worried about?

"Alright, yea, I'll do it." Draco said gruffly. Then he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. They'd be screwed if he didn't find it. The scraggly bunch of witches and wizards that made up the Order was hardly any match for an army of death-eaters.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Monday

Hermione could not conceal the look of anxiety that had coated her face for the past hour. McGonagall had approached her after Transfigurations, informing her that Dumbledore would need to see her after her next class. Her mind had flashed to every possible bad situation, the most pressing being her two best friends. Were they alright?

The older witch, upon seeing Hermione's terror, quickly assured her it was nothing tragic. But McGonagall had not offered a reassuring smile, and Hermione could've sworn she saw a flash of pity cross the professor's features.

The young witch couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to her gut as she made her way through the castle's halls to the Headmaster's office.