This fic is in response to: "The Draco & Hermione Archive of Great Fanfic" Fic challenge #3 -
Write a story which does not include any of the following:
Hermione getting pregnant, Draco rebelling against his father, Draco and Hermione being Head Boy and Head Girl respectively, a dance at Hogwarts, Draco and Hermione being forced to work together, Draco and Hermione getting stuck somewhere together, a convenient room never seen in the books where they can have secret sex, Draco and Hermione running into each other while they're on vacation, an original character who gets them together, an original character who tries to break them up, an original character who blackmails them, or an original character who plays any other integral part in the story.
And, most importantly: The story must not include any out of character behaviour.

Summary: Draco finally catches up to his lineage, and Dark Arts isn't that bad. Thing is, his first mission is to kill Hermione Granger. Does not follow the 6th book, takes place in Hogwarts 7th year.

A/n: this is a darkfic. I don't know, I never really wrote one like this before, given my darkfic drabbles have always been Gin N' Tonic centric. It's slow-paced and might get into too much detail, but PLEASE read and review with suggestions. Special thanks to the University of Notre Dame for Latin translations.

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It wasn't that bad, you know, getting the Dark Mark. Everyone always made a big bloody fucking deal about it, and I'm one to say that I was sorely disappointed. It was nothing- no big ceremony, no haunting hymns I had to memorize or anything that made you feel like you were being accepted in a prestigious, infamous cult. Nor did it happen on the eve my 16th birthday as Defense Against the Dark Arts class had suggested. In fact, I was left clueless the majority of the time that anything "dark" was happening. I was never involved with the Death Eaters at any one point unless you include my father, who was one himself, but he never talked to me about it, and I never thought to ask. Sure, I was curious, but everyone in the family just avoided the topic… Father was never home anyway, he was always dabbling in some business trip that had most likely had to do with the Dark Lord's bidding and/or resurrection, and the most I've ever got to do that had anything to do with Death Eaters 101 was learning Dark Arts from a very young age. To be honest, it really did feel like an extension of Defense Against the Dark Arts, except in reverse- Mum and Auntie Bella always told me (much like in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes) that you must know the enemy as well as you know the wand that omits your spells so you always know their weakness.

It was amusing. At Hogwarts, in the class that was said to teach you to defend yourself from powers of evil only imagined- I'd learn everything I need to know about the dark, "evil" wizards. Whereas at home, which radiated of pureblood, expensive leather books, and strict ancient pacts… I learned about "successful" wizards and witches, respectively. Ironic, really.

I still remember the odd burning sensation that had pitched my left arm when I woke up the morning of my "insurrection." No one that knew me personally was present at this so called "ceremony of the dark pact," and I hadn't realized that the very organization that my father and mother so loyally alleged themselves to were shrouded into such immense secrecy until that very day. That I didn't know much about what I was joining except that I somehow trusted it with my life and felt the need to do whatever was to be done because my father and mother had told me it was right from the beginning. I never felt like the bad guy in my entire life. There was so little known about the Death Eaters, and I heard so many bad things about them that pledging my blood and soul to it was not to me a life sentence, but something I accepted out of sheer curiosity and upbringing. I didn't know anything else. I just knew that somehow I was being trained for this day.

The night of my "rebirth" was attended by wizards (I assume they were) all wearing cloaks of weird silky fabric that looked like shadow draped around their bodies, and hoods that concealed the face and only revealed the upper lip down to the chin. I counted three, but I knew there had to be more but I just couldn't see them. I remember the blood that gushed from my wand tip and somehow I knew it was my own, and the vague rush of some old and promising power through my veins leaving a path of something I couldn't fathom at the time. I'd find out later that this was the first binds to my mission. I remember passing out half way, and waking up back in my bed with such a dull thump of my head I could've sworn I was just drinking the old vodka again, and when I went to the mirror to confirm my thoughts I saw my entire left arm was covered in an odd tattoo. It was freakishly wonderful to behold. Like intertwining, intricate burns in designs that could only be compared to that of something magnificent that nature itself has created.

If it was possible to fall in love with one's arm, then that I did.

Father told me that I was different. I hated it when he said that because more than anything I wanted to be accepted. He told me that there were things I had to do that no one else could, and that I wouldn't understand until I got the Dark Mark. The first thing Mum told me when she saw me the morning following the fateful night of the marking she said that under no circumstances was I to show anyone claiming they were a Death Eater, even my own beloved Auntie Bella, my left arm. She said it was very important. Mum was the only one who knew I had this specific mark. Father himself didn't bother to look since he had once told me when I was very young that the most sacred thing you could own besides your soul is the left arm that bestows the mark- it said worlds about you. I still don't understand.

It seemed like a load of playful bullshit and then it happened. I woke up the night before I had to board Platform 9¾ and realized what my first mission was. I knew it was no mistake, the dream was very vivid, and the rancid burn of my left arm seared as if it was reassurance. I had to kill Hermione Bloody Granger.

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I arrived on Platform 9¾ early for various reasons. One, Mum was supposed to go to trial quite early in the morning and plead witness of some sorts with the Ministry in defense of something Father did again that was bound to force him back to Azkaban… as if that would do any good anyway, Father had always preached that Azkaban was mind tricks, and since father had no happiness to give, it never affected him, just bored him to death. 'Your father has spirit. Happiness is an illusion, Draco, remember that. Spirit and will is something that should never be taken away from you,' Mum had said the first time Father was sent to the dementor-populated prison. True, I could perfectly well just get to the platform on time by myself, but this would be my final year at Hogwarts, and I knew Mum loved dropping me off for traditional purposes, so I let her do it.

Two, I wanted time to think. The manor was no suitable place to do such deep thinking because it would involve too much influence from my parents and also the silence was deafening and would scatter my thoughts. Besides, I appreciated the change of scenery. I'm from French descent, and therefore am a natural connoisseur. Some people were experts at cooking, others language, and some at tinker work, but for me, I had a thing for traveling and history. I was good at it- flying, Apparition, the works. Portkey creation was a hobby and past time… and history, that was the one thing I surpassed Hermione Granger in without effort.
Ah yes… Hermione Granger. Reason number three, was Hermione Granger. I'm sure that somehow falls under the category of reason number two, but she's an intelligent witch, I'll give her the honors of her own section.

Honestly, I never wanted to kill her. I never sought need to. I wanted to kill Weasley and Potter, and their Quidditch team because they did more fouls than the Slytherin team and everyone knew that was virtually impossible, but never Granger. I'm not quite sure why, but it never occurred to me that I didn't not because she wasn't worth my time, but because she had that other-worldly influence that I knew only my Mum had. I wanted to get to know the trio's female counterpart, and then I realized she was just like everybody else and was just self-aware of her amazing potential at magical ability. She was the Gryffindor stereotype through and through, and just happened to be "gifted" with a larger mouth and a tendency to annoy more than she realized. Besides, she wouldn't give me the time of day. No, I'm sure I never fancied her. Father must've suspected I had because I noticed he had given her much more grievances than any other Muggleborn, and asked about her at a constant. I told him once to sod off and just marry Granger already, and then noted that was a big mistake after he sent me off to Muggle London, alone, without a wand and expected that I could do well without him if he were to "sod off." I remember laughing because I noticed he left out the "just marry Granger" part. Mum had grown fond of her too. She only had encountered Granger once, but she sensed that she had wonderful magical capability and that was always a bigger interest to her than Pansy's pureblood.

I, for one, was not the least surprised when I found Granger had played with the Dark Arts. One would know that light, legal magic could only hold a talented magic-attuned person's attention for so long, and if one wanted to further their magical bonding, Dark Magic was more promising than anything else. Given, she had done it all unknowingly, Granger would never perform the Dark Arts willingly, but I was keen to notice that she had checked out Leviathans & Abyssal Remnants, which was a huge befuddling grimoire disguised as an Ancient Runes text that had nothing to do with the cover. It was, in fact, an encyclopedia of forgotten and not to mention, ancient spells. Most of which derived from dark, forbidden enchantments Merlin thought he eradicated years past his time. I would know- I had read the book when I was in my second year to review for Mum's test during summer. I would kill to figure out what goody-good Granger would do if I were to tell her "alohamora" was an altered version of "aromahola" which was used in the Middle Ages by kinky kings and queens alike to bind their favored slaves to their beds. Or, that the levitation charm she performed in Tranfiguration last year to save her bewitched cupholder from falling was in fact only able to be enforced when one's wand was familiar with Dark Magic. It was a small, fickle thing that no one would pick up- but I did much more than my fair share of reading to know the history of each dark spell. It made me smirk. Who knew she practiced Dark Arts so often? The levitation spell was performed flawlessly.

I was anticipating from the very instant I saw her practice the spell to know how she'd do in a duel against me. I'm not going to brag, but I'm not a bad dueler- I do it as a past time with friends from Durmstrang on holiday, and had practiced the form of dueling since I was able to wield something as dangerous as a wand. Now if you're thinking about the horrible job of a duel I did against Potter in 2nd year, I have to admit I fretted more than necessary. I owled Mum that we might be practicing duels, and she promptly forwarded a reply that told me to act like a complete novice at it, and allow whoever my duelist was the pleasure of defeating me so I don't draw attention to myself. I'll admit though, Potter had bad form, but the Parseltongue bit was extremely impressive, and even if Mum asked me to destroy any duelist I'd come across, the fact he talked to the amateur snake I conjured to just show off to Pansy a little, would be more than enough to tell me to forfeit lest he might open the whole Chamber up to me or something. That's what I had thought then.

I'm getting sidetracked… where was I? Ah right, Granger. Asides from her magical ability that rendered Mum to ask me about her as soon as I sneered in her direction, and her attitude that's less than civilized to me- Father, I noticed also had mentioned once to me (while we were having one of our rows on why he "should just find a nice cozy closet to snog Granger in" since he pestered me about her every time I mentioned anything school related), that he believed she was pretty. I am one to admit defeat here again, I always thought she was cute- the nerdy need to read books all the time, the button-like nose, the sprinkle of freckles from a summer's tan, and the infamous frazzled bush she called her hair, was more than enough proof she was. And not just desirable in the "I-bet-with-all-that-good-air-about-her-she's-probably-a-minx-in-the-bed" kind of way… she was indeed, pretty. Especially at the Yule Ball, she was startlingly so. She was no bombshell like Pansy was, who wore concealment charms to hide her Veela inheritance that no one but the Slytherins knew she had descended from, but Granger was quite pretty. Even after the Yule Ball, everyone had noticed she was no longer just another one of the students- she was a woman, with slight curves, petite figure, and flashing eyes reserved especially for me. I think it looks better anyway like that. If Granger ever batted her eyes at me the way Pansy does, I think I'd Avada Kedavra myself and call it a night- perhaps go square dance with Moaning Myrtle. Hell, I'll be one to say without hesitation, that I'm one of the Slytherins who joke about forcing Granger into submission and doing illicit things to her that would make horny Ron Weasley blush.

Krum told me she knew how to do a decent blow job, but I knew he was lying, because then he started going into detail, and I swear he was getting another hard-on just remembering it. Raunchy curiosity mixed with hormones of a 14-year-old couldn't even escape Granger, I suppose. She was probably going out with Weasley now. Potter was too much of a puss even though he defeated the Dark Lord like, five times, to ask her out, or he might be going out with the Weasley chick, I don't know, who gives a shit? Fact is it's amazing how Weasley,who I still don't know where he fits in for a part in the Golden trio (Potter is the hero, Granger was the brains, and Weasley was in no way the brawns), somehow is getting the reward of banging Granger. Shame really, from the looks of the Yule Ball, Weasley had no dance rhythm, like hell he'd have it in bed.

I hadn't realized I was thinking for such a long time until I heard the sharp shrill of the Hogwarts Express signaling it's presence. The platform was bustling with crowds of people, and I was surprised I managed to think throughout. But ah… Just in time… I always had perfect, impeccable timing, because lo and behold who steps onto the platform in their loud, riotous, uncivilized manner as only those of wolf pack upbringing? The Weasleys- accompanied by Harry Potter himself, who was more well-guarded than usual seeing that the news of the Dark Lord's resurrection became known. I raised my posture slightly from my leaning position on the wall closest to the caboose of the train, to glimpse the rest of them. The Weasley chick was clinging on Potter like he was a gold galleon she would never lay her hands on, and they were both surrounded by the rest of the red-headed lot- it looked like the whole pack came, including the alpha male that was Mr. Weasley and the beta female, Mrs. Weasley, with subordinates I've never seen before but still obviously part of the wolf pack, maybe the older sons, and the scavengers that were twins (as if it wasn't enough to just terrorize the earth with their population growth, they had to make duplicates). Hm… but what of the omega, the lowest of them all…?

Ah, there he is Ron Weasley… and, wait… well, well, well, someone's overly protective today. Well, I would be too if my girlfriend was wearing such sparse clothing. Muggle clothing, eh- cut off blue uncomfortable looking fabric that seemed to advertise more than I'm willing to bet she'd give… and of course horny Weasley can't keep his eyes off those calves of hers, but honestly, he doesn't have to be adjoined to her hip. Damn, give Granger room to bloody breathe, wanker! You'll be killing her before I could get to her!

They were all yelling about something, and I wasn't sure if it was about anything good. They looked to be on high shots of stress and it confused me greatly. What got the loyal pack to be all bothered? WHOA!

Suddenly Draco felt an arm slink around his waist in a way that only his fiancée had the expertise of doing.

"Hey Dray…" she whispered in that giggle-hush tone Draco had grown fond of.

"Morning, Love," he replied, his eyes flickering appreciatively down at her, before retracing its steps to the Weasley mob, "Doing without the concealment charms this year?"

Pansy was simply stunning. Her extravagant robes were light weight and exquisite in material, it was obvious she hadn't bothered with school robes. Her Veela side was more obvious than ever with her deep brown eyes in tilted almond shape reminiscent of perhaps Asian ancestry, high cheekbones, and luscious and very kissable lips. She really didn't need it, but as if to further exaggerate her features she added light make up that accentuated every shadow of her face to give her a mysterious, haughty look. She was the epitome of a male's dream.

"Haha," she said with a laugh that was more cackle than anything else. "Of course not… the teachers wouldn't recognize me. Besides, it's you who should be wearing those concealment charms…" she slid a hand dangerously low on his hip, just enough to be a tease without adding vulgarity in public. Out of more habit than anything else, he pulled Pansy into a loose hug against his chest.

"Worried, Love?"

"I'm tired of them LOOKING, Dray," her eyes shifted from side to side suspiciously at a mob of third year girls passing by who threw a quick glance at Draco, and for just one moment Pansy's face seemed to look beastlike and monstrous, courtesy of the Veela inheritance when in high bouts of anger, but was soon erased with its previous beauty. "They all look."

"I'm betrothed to you," he reassured her absently. Draco's fiancée had a fiery temper, but he was accustomed to smoothing her out with petty compliments and such. It was daily routine.

"You always know what to say." She cooed, and placed her left hand on his right cheek, as if to make sure everyone saw the platinum ring with diamond solitaire custom cut into a dragon's eye on her ring finger.

"Shame," Draco continued, placing his hand over the one on his cheek, to bring it down to his lips, "You'll have to remove this ring too, they don't allow married students in the academy," he breathed.

"But we're not married yet," she protested. It was clear Pansy had intended to show off the ring to the Slytherin girls to let it be known that Draco was claimed for good.

"No loopholes, Love." He kissed each of her fingers on her left hand, and skillfully in one smooth movement that left Pansy in utter amazement, removed her ring easily with his mouth, "We're adults now, they can expel us much easier than they could before, and Mum wouldn't enjoy my wife to have a spoiled education. You know how she is, don't you?" Draco asked, the ring clicking teasingly on his teeth with every syllable.

"You don't have to take it back like that! At least let me keep it!" Pansy pouted.

"Get it yourself, Love." He said impishly, and before long, Pansy was kissing him so hard it caused a low guttural laugh out of Draco's masculine figure. He didn't feel in the mood for some tonsil hockey, so he let her have the ring back easily, and then promptly told her to go get changed and find a compartment for the both of them to continue. Pansy did as she was bidden with no hassle at all- she was extremely loyal even though she had a reputation of being the Slytherin slut.

Finally. More time to think about killing the pretty Muggleborn's demise. The killing curse was out of the question, too many people, and just one him. It also didn't help that his target was surrounded by the legion of red hair making it impossible to aim. Sure, he didn't mind "accidentally" killing one of them, but he didn't want security to be raised even further at Hogwarts which might prove a larger adversary than he was already brought with. Then suddenly… the idea struck him.

Draco glanced at the clock in a rush, and smirked. Again, he always had perfect timing.

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A/N: (7/10/2007) ah… so I decided that it would be good to post this fic up when all these HP fans are reading fanfics like mad before the last book and the 5th HP movie comes up and around. Please read and review it makes me very happy. As usual, kudos to my beautiful beta- Holypancake (she talked me out of putting Hermione in shorts so I made it more realistic by putting her in Capri pants).