AN: Draco, Hermione, Blaise and Voldemort are not mine. You already know that.
As far as the rest of the world is concerned, this never happened. It's totally unrealistic, after all; the Death Eater and the Order member, the pureblood and the mudblood, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Total opposites, but you know what they say – opposites attract.
Our meetings have to be kept secret, or we'd both be killed. Him for betraying Voldemort, me because I'm one of Voldemort's main targets anyway. If he could, Draco would join us, the Order. But he can't risk being seen entering our headquarters. It's too risky. He does pass on anything he knows, and the Order are grateful, though I think they're beginning to wonder how I know so much. It took some persuasion for him to tell me Voldemort's plans – he was scared of repercussions if the Death Eaters found out. He still is, I think.
The information is vital, of course, but that's not the only reason we meet. Most of our time together is spent in the bed of the little hotel room we rent out, and I don't think I need to elaborate on what goes on.
What I will say, though, is that I've fallen in love with him. Nothing could be more dangerous at a time like this – we're fighting on opposite sides, if we ever meet in public, we're mortal enemies. But that's all a façade, a pretence we have to keep up for our own safety. If it wasn't for that, I'd do anything for him. We're planning to run away, escape to somewhere that we'll never be found. The Caribbean perhaps, or maybe Australia.
Draco's late. That's not like him – he's usually early. That means there's either a Death Eater meeting, or… no. I refuse to consider the alternative. He'll be here soon, spend ages in the shower like he always does after those meetings (no matter how much he scrubs his skin, he never feels clean afterwards) and everything will be normal.
………………..
An owl flies up to the window, taps on it. Hermione looks up, recognises Draco's owl, and moves to open the window. Taking the letter offered, she sits down on the bed. She's afraid to open it, doesn't want to read what it says. But she knows she has to. Slowly, she unfolds the letter. The writing is hurried, messy, smudged in places, but undeniably Draco's.
"My dearest Hermione,
If you're reading this, then I'm dead. The Death Eaters found out about us, my love. I was given a few minutes alone to "prepare myself", and that's the time I'm using to write this letter. I'm entrusting it to Blaise Zabini – he's as disillusioned with Voldemort as I am, and he'll keep you informed of their plans. I love you, Mya. I will always love you.
Your Draco."
By the time she'd finished reading, Hermione was in floods of tears. She'd known this was a possibility, known it from their very first meeting. But that didn't help when the moment arrived.
Just then, another owl swooped through the window, dropping a note in her lap.
"Granger,
The DEs know where you are. Get back to your HQ, now. You'll be safe there.
BZ."
Snatching up both letters and her wand, she apparated back to her room at the Order headquarters. She'd fight in this war, help rid the world of Voldemort. Then she'd join Draco – after all, what sort of life would it be without him.
Hermione smiled.
"I'll see you soon, Draco."
AN: Well, what did you think? Reviews are good, so leave one!