A/N: This chapter really sucks, I'm not gonna lie. The next chapter will be much better I promise.

Draco slowly walked toward his fate. The fate he was so unwilling to take, but was forced into nonetheless. He hated his father for what he was making him do, for the choices he was forcing him to make.

Draco had once looked up to his father, hoping to one day follow in his footsteps, but now, as he was about to make the final commitment to go down the very same path his father had taken, he realized he didn't want it, any of it.

He had been brought up learning that wealth, power, and the pureness of your blood were all that mattered, all that was needed to become a great wizard, but this thought process was wrong, very wrong indeed. And he had realized this when he had talked to someone whom he would never be caught talking to:

Hermione Granger.

Yes, Hermione Granger, that know-it-all with the Muggle parents, whom he had loathed and detested. But why? She had never done any wrong to him. But because of the way Draco Malfoy had been raised, he was taught to hate anyone of Muggle decent.

So when they were forced to work together in their Ancient Runes class, they of course both begged for different partners, but nothing could be changed:

At first, Draco never said anything to Hermione, and she never said anything to him, and he liked it that way. But then one day, curiosity won Hermione over.

"Why do you hate me so much?" she asked.

"Because you're a Mudblood." Draco automatically replied. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Hermione wince at the word, but her voice did not falter when she said, "Just because I'm Muggle-born does not give you the right to hate me."

Draco looked up from deciphering runes and looked up at her. "You have no right to tell me what I do and do not have the right to do! If anyone has that right, it is me, as I am a Pureblood and you are just a mere Mudblood."

"It doesn't matter." Hermione said softly, not looking up from her work.

Draco snorted. "What do you mean 'it doesn't matter'? Of course it matters! That's what makes a good witch or wizard!"

Hermione looked up and faced him. "No, it doesn't, Malfoy. What makes a good witch or wizard depends upon their skill, whether they be Pureblood, Halfblood, or Muggle-born. It also depends upon the way they treat others."

Draco was a little taken aback by the fact that Hermione had stood up to him, no one had ever done so in the past, and the fact that her words had made some sense. "What do you thing of me?" he asked quietly, "Am I a good wizard?"

She seemed to hear the sincerity in his voice and replied, "Well to be honest – now, don't get mad at me – but no, I don't think you are a good wizard, and I will tell you why." But just as she was about to explain, the bell signaling that class was over rang loudly.

Hermione swore under her breath, which surprised Draco. "Look," she said as she gathered up her things, "if you still want to know what I think, meet me in the empty Charms classroom on the second floor during lunch, okay?" She looked up at him for an answer.

"Yeah, okay." Draco said, without thinking about whom he was just now planning to meet with later.

All throughout his next classes he couldn't help but wonder why Hermione thought of him as a bad wizard.

Maybe she thinks I don't have the skills he thought, then angrily added, How dare she insult me that way!

But yet, he still met her in the abandoned Charms classroom at lunch. She was sitting there waiting for him. She looked up when she heard him enter, and gestured for him to sit down in the chair in front of her.

He hesitated, not wanting to look like he was taking orders from her, but he did finally sit.

"So, I don't believe you to be a good wizard, and I'll tell you why." Hermione resumed the conversation as if they had been talking about it seconds ago. "Now, I don't want you to think that I think you have no skill, because I don't. I think you have remarkable skills, but that's not why I think you're a bad wizard."

"Then why?" Draco asked, feeling like he was missing a major piece to the puzzle. "Why am I a bad wizard if I've got the skill?"

"Well, it's like I said isn't it? It's not only skill that makes a good wizard, it's the way he treats others, and to be honest Malfoy –"

"Call me Draco." He automatically said, shocking himself.

"Oh, o-okay." said Hermione, slightly startled, "To be perfectly honest – erm – Draco, you don't treat others very nicely."

Draco stood up, almost knocking over the chair he recently vacated. "But why should I?" he answered her, "I'm better than them!"

It was now Hermione's turn to stand. "No you're not Draco! Not when you say things like that! Haven't your parents ever told you to treat people the way you'd want to be treated?"

Draco calmed down slightly. "No," he said, "all they ever told me was that Purebloods are the only respectable wizards and that Halfbloods and Mudbloods are all scum."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well," she said, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but they told you wrong."

"All these years I've been thinking wrongly." Draco slowly sat back down. "How could I have been so stupid?" he asked, dropping his head onto the desk in front of him with a great thud.

This was not the reaction that Hermione was expecting. She expected Draco to yell and tell her that she was the one who was wrong, but that reaction never came. "Draco," she breathed, reaching across the desk to rest a hand on one of his. He looked up at her, his face shining with tears. "Oh Draco, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault, you were brought up to believe things that weren't true, how were you to know it was wrong?"

Her hand was still resting upon his, and it strangely made him feel better, comforted. He smiled through his tears. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Of course I am." She joked, "Have I ever been wrong?"

Draco laughed. "No. Never."

"Ah, Draco Malfoy." The Dark Lord's voice brought Draco crashing back to reality. "Lucius tells me that you have exceptional skill and that you would be an excellent addition to our ranks. But, I cannot fully take his word for it, for he is your father, so he would most certainly speak well of you. So tell me, are you all that he says you are?" His eyes were so piercing, Draco repressed a shudder.

He didn't want to answer, but he knew he must carry on with the task Dumbledore had set for him, or else he could put many lives in danger, he could put Hermione's life in danger:

The bell after Ancient Runes had rung again when Hermione passed Draco the note.

Meet me in the empty Charms room a lunch. You know where.

Draco could feel his lips curve up into a smile. It had been a few weeks since he and Hermione had first talked, and they seemed to be getting along just fine. More than fine in fact. They were always stealing glances at each other and talking and laughing with each other.

Draco was most certainly falling for her, but he would never admit it. How could he? He could never tell his father. Just thinking about what he would say made Draco shudder.

His classes before lunch seemed to drag on forever, but finally they had passed. Draco raced to the vacant Charms room as fast as he could, he wanted as much time with Hermione that he could get. He was out of breath by the time he got there, clutching the stitch in his aching side.

He looked up to find Hermione already there, staring at him, eyebrows raised. "In a rush are we?" she asked.

Draco gaped at her. "How…did you get here…so fast?" he asked while gasping for air. He couldn't wrap his brain around the fact that she had gotten there before him, without breaking a sweat, while he, panting like a dog, had run as fast as his legs could carry him to get there.

Hermione shrugged, "My Transfiguration class is right down the corridor." She then crossed her arms. "So, why in such a hurry?"

"Well, you wanted to see me. You did want to see me, right?" Draco was starting to think that he maybe shouldn't have come.

"Yes, but I didn't realize that you'd be so eager to see me." Hermione replied, looking down at her feet, to embarrassed to look at him.

Draco stared at her in disbelief. "Of course I'm eager to see you!" he replied, "You're all I ever think about!" He could feel his face getting hot as his cheeks turned red. He had probably said too much.

Hermione was turning a shade of pink as well. "Really?" she asked. "Am I really all you think about?"

Draco realized it was too late to deny it, and, interestingly enough, he didn't want to. "Yeah, yeah you are." At these words, he looked down at his feet, as if he had never seen anything like them before.

"Oh Draco," Hermione then said. Draco looked up at her. "Draco, you're all I ever think about! That's why I wanted you to come here, so I could tell you!"

"Oh Hermione." Draco breathed. Hermione gasped, it had been the first time he had ever called her by her first name.

"Oh Draco." She ran to him and flung her arms around his neck. He took her and held her in a tight embrace, stroking her brown hair.

"Hermione listen." Draco pulled her away so he could look into her face. "We're going to have to keep this a secret, at least for a little while. My dad would kill me if he ever found out." He searched her face for her answer.

"Okay," she agreed, while nodding her head, "Yeah, okay. I'd do anything for you." She looked so vulnerable, so innocent right then; Draco never wanted to let her go. "As would I," he replied.

"Well Draco? I'm waiting. Are you or are you not all that your father says?" Once again the piercing voice of the Dark Lord brought Draco out of his thoughts.

He looked up into the snakelike face. "I am, My Lord." He answered. Draco hated himself for doing what he was doing, but he knew he had to, to save the lives of others.

"Not very modest, are we?" A smile played around Voldemort's lips.

"Modesty gets in the way of regaining power My Lord." Draco replied, not believing a single word of what he was saying.

"Excellent, excellent." The Dark Lord was definitely smiling now. "Talented and brilliant you are, Draco. Yes, you will be a superb addition to the Death Eaters. What do you say Draco, would you like to join us? Not that you really have a choice."

"I would be honored My Lord." Draco felt like he could throw up, he didn't like this plan at all, but he knew he must go through with it. Besides, it was Dumbledore's plan after all, surely he knew what he was doing?

"Perfect. Hold out your left arm Draco." Draco stared at the man before him. There was no way he was getting the Dark Mark tattooed permanently to his arm, he would never allow it.

"My Lord…I…I," Draco stammered.

"Draco!" the Dark Lord cut across him, "Don't tell me you're backing out now, just because of one little marking on your arm."

"Of course not, My Lord." Draco didn't know how he was going to get out of this one, he thought for sure he would be killed. "I just thought that—"

"Are you second-guessing my methods Draco?" the Dark Lord once again cut across Draco.

"No, no, My Lord! So sorry, My Lord, my mistake." Draco dropped to his knees in front of Voldemort, praying that he would make it out of this alive.

Voldemort took this as Draco worshiping him, and smiled. "Get up Draco, you are forgiven. Don't expect to get off this easily next time."

Draco exhaled with relief and got to his feet. "Thank you My Lord."

"Yes, well, back to buisness." Voldemort dismissed Draco's thanks with a wave of his pale hand. "Now Draco, if you please, hold out your left arm."

Just then, Draco realized that he had to do it, he had to get the Dark Mark. Dumbledore had sent him out on this mission, so he had to do whatever it took to complete it; plus, Draco had promised Hermione that he would do anything for her. This wasn't really what he had in mind, and she didn't know he was doing this, but if becoming a Death Eater in order to spy on Voldemort was what he had to do to keep her safe, he was willing to do it.

His mind was made up, and he slowly lifted his left arm out in front of him. Voldemort took it and put the tip of his wand onto Draco's bare skin and murmured some sort of incantation.

The skin on Draco's left arm burned white-hot. Draco did all he could to keep himself from crying out. He looked down at his arm. Voldemort's wand was still pressed against it, but where there had once been bare skin there was now a skull and snake, burning red.

When Voldemort pulled his wand away from Draco's arm, the burning subsided and the Dark Mark faded from red to black. Draco, who had been staring at his arm, looked up at the Dark Lord. He was smiling. "Welcome Draco," he said, "to the Death Eaters."

"Thank you My Lord." Draco replied, though he was not thankful at all. He hated that he was officially a Death Eater. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

"Now, there is something I want you to do for me Draco." Voldemort said.

Draco's attention immediately was brought back to the Dark Lord. This was his mission after all: to find out what Voldemort was planning. "Yes My Lord?" he asked eagerly.

The Dark Lord smiled, hearing the eagerness in his newest recruit's voice. "I want you to round up all the Mudbloods at Hogwarts and kill them, if you can. If there are some that you can't kill, I want you to bring them back here, to me, so I can kill them. That filth does not belong in our world. But listen carefully Draco, I want a certain Mudblood in particular for you to kill: that friend of Harry Potter's; Granger. With her dead, Harry Potter will come after me, and I will kill him."

Draco's heart sank. Kill Hermione? Kill the girl he loved? He would rather die than murder the love of his life, but he knew he had to tell Voldemort that he would. "Of course My Lord, I will get right on that." Draco said, struggling to hold back tears.

A/N: Please review so I can improve!