A/N: Hello lovely readers! This is my entry for Strictly Dramione Springfest. There are five chapters total that I will be uploading shortly. Written for the prompt: A week's worth of detention? With Malfoy? So much for the Head Boy and Head Girl setting a good example.
(I took a lot of liberties with this prompt, and took it somewhere a bit darker, I hope you don't mind!)

Beta Love to the incredibly talented MrBenzedrine C:

Disclaimer: All canon character, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this writing.

Please let me know what you think! XxX

Chapter 1

The taunting was wearing on her nerves.

On her pride!

It was disturbing and maddening and jarring all at once.

Well, of course it was. Harry and Ron were gone. Snape was bloody Headmaster. Alecto Carrow was teaching Muggle Studies! It was probably only thanks to Professor McGonnagal that she'd managed to keep her Head Girl position—the position she had earned! But did she really want the position? Dear God—all that seemed to have come with it was attention. The spotlight was focused on her seemingly all the time, doubly so since she was Muggle-born.

It would be so much easier to be one of the students that just slunk to the sidelines, that no one hardly ever called on. What good had it done her to raise her hand every time a teacher had asked a question, anyway? It was far better to be missed—to be overlooked! It seemed all the studying - all of the volunteering - all of the extra work she had put in - had been a grave mistake.

The things Amycus Carrow taught them in Defense! She could hardly stomach it. Defense was the biggest joke in the school, next to Muggle Studies. In Defense they learned to wield dark curses, and in Muggle Studies they were taught just how inferior Muggles were.

Hermione felt bile rise in her throat.

Harry and Ron had left her.

"You'll be my eyes and ears, Hermione. Ron and I will find the horcruxes and destroy them."

It had been what Harry told her after the wedding. It had been a risk - they all had known it! For Hermione to go back to the school, to take up her Head Girl position, next to bloody Malfoy of all people...She had agreed to come; how could she not? Her friends had needed her. They couldn't face the dark invasion alone! Harry was not there to defend anyone, and he'd left her in his absence but Merlin—she couldn't even defend herself!

It had been clear very quickly that this was going to be a school year like none ever before.

The students were changing. The fight had somewhat dimmed in their eyes to be replaced by dawning acceptance. It made her want to hurl. Yes, there was Neville and Luna and Parvati and Cho and Dean and Justin and Seamus, and they were very brave, but they were overwhelmed, and slowly Hermione felt them losing strength, losing their will to fight, just like she was.

How could they not?

Hogwarts was a bloody nightmare!

The teachers that had been there before remained, but they were helpless. Bound to the new material and new leadership. They were becoming just as dull and lifeless as the rest of them! The Ministry had changed. The new doctrine they were putting out was ridiculous, but everyone was far too afraid to voice their concern. It would only be a matter of time before they came for her. Perhaps they hadn't yet because they were biding their time. Maybe Hermione would be the last. Maybe the third wheel of the infamous Golden Trio was better off at Hogwarts under the watchful eye of so many of her enemies. Aside from threats, no one had come for her. No one had yet to snap her wand, but how much longer would it last?

She'd already been forced to sit at the back of the Hogwarts Express when she'd returned from Christmas break. She'd stayed at the Burrow, where it was safe, but for how much longer? Things were happening, and no one was stopping it. She hadn't even considered that it would take this long to find the horcruxes—it was maddening! Surely they would go after her Head Girl status next; they would capture her, and they would rip her wand from her, and she would be incapable of doing magic.

The other students were fond of telling her this would happen.

Students she had known for years had jeered at her - had sneered at her - had made sure she knew what was coming.

Hermione lived in fear everyday. She'd been left behind, and the people she thought were friends were slowly withdrawing from her. The people she once thought were acquaintances were turning into people she didn't even know! They threw hexes at her, hurled insults at her. She knew they did this to survive, that they were merely adapting, but it didn't hurt any less! Her pride was suffering. She first had no family, and now no friends. Even her magic was threatened.

It was no life.

It was alarming and terrible and so very strange.

How had this happened?

How would she survive it?

~oOo*oOo~

"It was a diadem," Luna whispered to her as they walked the halls, not quite looking at her.

"A what?" Hermione was careful to keep her head ducked as she walked so no one would see them talking.

Luna cast a worried glance around. "It's like a crown...a tiara of sorts. That's what Rowena Ravenclaw had. It was supposed to inspire wisdom."

Hermione pressed her lip into a thin line. Rowena's diadem...could that be another one of the horcruxes Tom Riddle forged? He had a tendency to go after things with a high magical output. The more renowned it was, the more he wanted it. It stood to reason he would have tracked down the tiara. Just because it was lost did not mean it had to be lost to him.

"Thanks, Luna."

She would simply have to keep her eye out for it, for that and the cup! Maybe they had left her behind, but that didn't mean she still couldn't be of some assistance. She wanted this all to end. If it didn't end soon, it would mean her sanity. She was already changing along with the other students. War had that kind of effect on everyone, and she wasn't so special as to be impervious to it.

It had been the last time she had spoken to Luna. They had come for her soon after. Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before they came for her too.

~oOo*oOo~

When she crawled through the portrait hole of the Head's Common Room, she found him to be sleeping on the large divian.

Internally, she breathed a sigh of relief.

If he was sleeping, that would mean he would not be taunting her. Her night would be peaceful. She'd made it back from the library before curfew and without seeing anyone in passing. She'd taken to Disillutioning herself at night. It wouldn't quite stave off the gaze of a roaming Death Eater, but it did increase the chance of her going unnoticed.

He looked peaceful when he slept.

She found herself wandering closer just because she was curious. She rarely had a chance to view Malfoy sans his ever-present sneer. He looked...different.

He had a Medieval Runes book draped across his chest. She'd never heard of the text before, let alone come across it in the library. It was probably an addition straight from the Malfoy library. She briefly wished for the opportunity to peruse through those texts and tomes tucked away in his sprawling manor. Imagine all the books, all the limited editions she would find there! It was a pipe dream, of course, but she allowed herself the small fantasy.

She was now standing right beside his prone form. For a change, it was her towering over him. If she wanted to, she could probably curse him. It wasn't like they hadn't been forced to practice on doxies anyway. She knew how to do it. An ominous feeling settled in her abdomen, doused by coldness. He did not usually allow himself to be vulnerable. He was always so careful about that. It was disconcerting that he had tonight, almost as if he were comfortable with her.

Did he not see her as a threat?

Did he believe her to be helpless, that her fire had died?

It hadn't.

Hermione was sure of that. It would take more than a few months of terror to alter her completely. He was wrong to think she would do nothing if given the chance.

It was quite bizarre to see him like this.

So open and vulnerable.

Hermione could place the tip of her wand to his pale throat, and he'd be at her mercy. A thrill sparked down her spine at the thought of it. The column if his neck was exposed thanks to the top buttons of his Oxford being haphazardly opened. His green-lined jumper was bunched at the neck from the way he slouched. His robes were carelessly cast on the chair opposite the divian.

His smooth complexion blended into his platinum, fine hair. She'd always hated his hair—it was a Malfoy trademark and therefore signified the fear he had over others. His nose was infuriatingly straight, like the sort of nose you'd see on a Roman statue carved in stone. He looked distractedly peaceful, and Hermione supposed that's why she stared for so long. It was a look not usually associated with him. His brows were slightly darker than his hair and somehow eloquent. He wasn't frowning or smirking but just resting, and, because of that, she was able to truly look at him. She'd never before noticed his perfectly shaped cupid bow lips. It was Malfoy, but Hermione could not deny how breath-stealingly handsome he looked. He was the epitome of a debonair Pureblood, but he was handsome just the same. The skull and snake mark stood out glaringly against the light skin of his arm, reminding her that she was staring at her enemy who, at any moment, could rouse.

She told herself the reason she didn't act was because it would only mean more trouble for her. Malfoy was a celebrated Death Eater, partially responsible to bringing down the greatest wizard of their age. She had no doubts he wouldn't have hesitated to cause her harm, but she was different than him. She didn't take advantage of people when they were sleeping, and she would always condone a fair fight.

Malfoy fought for the Dark, and she fought for the Light.

~oOo*oOo~

It was when they were torturing gnomes that it happened.

They were by the greenhouse where the creatures would often congregate in the garden. Hermione briefly recalled times spent outdoors at the Burrow where Crookshanks could often be found chasing around the little gnomes. It was a pleasant memory, and there was no reason for it to bring a tear to her eye, but strangely it did.

The world had changed so much since then.

"Step to it, now," Professor Carrow directed them. "I want everyone to get a chance." He turned to face Hermione. "Granger, I haven't seen you perform the spell correctly."

It was an observation, but it was also an order that gripped around her heart like a vice.

Hermione tried to tell herself it didn't matter - they were just pests - she'd often seen Molly de-gnome the Burrow gardens. It was nothing. It was merely survival.

She trained her vine wand on an unsuspecting gnome and muttered the curse. "Crucio."

A red light shot out of her wand before fizzling and disappearing completely. The spell didn't even reach its intended target. Hermione's magic did not wish to cooperate.

"Just as I thought," the professor told her. "Weakness is in your very blood - your very muddy blood." He openly leered at her, and she felt suddenly uncomfortable.

Several students snickered, and Hermione worried Professor Carrow may instruct the students to practice on her. It wouldn't be the first time students had to turn their wands on each other in Defense. But dear God, she'd rather that not happen.

"No, Granger."

Her eyes were suddenly trapped in a startling silver gaze; the intensity of it made her feel as if she were skewered.

"You have to mean it. They won't leave you alone until you do." Malfoy glanced away inconspicuously, as if he hadn't been speaking to her, and Hermione wondered if he even had. "You have to use your rage to pull from the Dark Arts, use your anger, or it won't work - fear doesn't work."

"I'm not afraid, Malfoy," she was compelled to tell him.

"Whatever," he muttered under his breath before shooting a jet of red magic at another burrowing pest.

"Why do you care, anyway?"

"If you don't get it right, we'll be out here all day, and, unlike you, I have things to do."

She was still suspicious with him. If the situation wasn't so bizarre, she could almost think he was helping her just out of the kindness of his heart. It was silly, of course. Malfoy didn't care about her well-being. She was more sure about that than anything else in her life.

Even so, she had to get the spell right.

She was angry, quite! If the solution to performing a strong Cruciatus was simply rage, she could perform one flawlessly, she was sure. That particular emotion was abundant and overflowing.

She raised her wand once more, this time calling upon her magic angrily. It was hesitant but jerked to her forcibly, bristling across her skin in a way very unfamiliar to her. It almost felt...powerful...but that was dangerous. She should not think in terms of feelings whilst calling upon the Dark Arts.

"Crucio!" she said with meaning, emphasizing every syllable and watching the blood-red spell wrench from her wand in a powerful spurt. This time, her spell made it to its target, sending the little creature thrashing on the floor in a frenzied terror.

"Gerroff me!" it demanded, but Hermione merely strengthened her spell, relishing in the powerful force that welled through her, and then the gnome didn't speak at all.

It was sort of welcoming - to feel so free and liberated - her magic was wild and unhinged, like the turmoil in her soul. For a heart-stopping moment, she could see why some wizards turned to the Dark Arts. She felt momentarily blissful and quite uncharacteristically high. Her eyes were hooded and her cheeks flushed pink. It was quite a strange feeling, one she hadn't experienced before, maybe the closest time being when she performed a complicated bit of magic.

"Well done," Professor Carrow praised. "It appears the Mudblood may have some skill yet."

It was like infusing her veins with ice. Hermione felt suddenly sick to her stomach. What had she done? The creature lay on the grass unmoving, and panic churned in her chest. Had she killed the little gnome? The excuses she had made about the gnomes being nothing but pests hardly improved her quickly souring mood. More changes, she thought despairingly. Soon I won't even be able to recognize myself.

She looked up to see Malfoy studying her with interest, completely uncaring if he was seen by others. "You did it, Granger," he said softly. Then, his features hardened and his eyes narrowed. "But you're still an incompetent Mudblood."

Hermione felt wretched. If she was beginning not to recognize herself, would Harry and Ron recognize her?

~oOo*oOo~