Disclaimer: Harry Potter and co. are a part of J.K. Rowling's work. My initials could be JKR, but I'm certainly not getting any richer. Boo.

"Help!" a small voice shouted. Hermione was looking around the burning town franticly for the sound. "I'm trapped! I need help!" It was coming from a heavily burning building. The Dark Mark was hovering over it, the menacing skull scowling darkly at her. She rushed to the building, sweat beading her body as she neared the flames.

"Aguamenti!" she screamed, putting out the flames near the door. She rushed in and saw a little boy at the entrance, crying.

"Help me!" he wailed. "I'm trapped!"

Hermione turned and she realized now that she too was trapped. The fire had covered the exit. She looked around for an alternative. "Don't worry," she said, reaching for the boy. But suddenly, he disappeared, and Hermione was trapped all alone.

The fire was coming, it was going to consume her, and Hermione opened her mouth to scream…

Hermione woke up screaming in a cold sweat. She whipped her head around, looking for fire, but she was in her room, in her bed, and she tried to calm her racing heart. "It was only a dream," she panted to herself. "Only a dream."

She had been having these nightmares about the war for awhile, and only her closest friends, Harry and Ron, knew about it. They had tried anything to help her, but they'd run out of dreamless potions. Harry, the to-be savior of the wizarding world, needed them more than she did.

Hermione got out of bed, now too worked up to sleep, and pulled a robe on before venturing down the stairs. It was dawn, she realized, as she made herself a cup of coffee. She watched the sunrise and wondered how, in such a chaotic and dangerous and ugly world, could the sunrise still be so beautiful? It was an irrational thought, and she chided herself for it afterwards. Being the genius she was, she didn't have time to think of silly thoughts like that.

Hogwarts School of Magic had been closed for the safety of the students. The battle at Hogwarts had been mentally scarring for many, especially those who hadn't even experience war yet, and many had died. Not only was Hogwarts not safe, but it wasn't even in a condition where students could live and learn. Hermione was devastated that she couldn't finish her sixth and seventh year, but there were more important things to worry about. Like surviving. And taking down Voldemort. And saving all the Muggle-borns.

Hermione put her cup away and walked back to her room where she dressed for the day. When she came back down, Mrs. Weasley was making breakfast, and she looked up to see her.

"Hello, dear," Molly said with her motherly smile. Hermione always felt like Molly was her mother away from home. She had known the Weasleys for quite a long time, not to say that she and Ron had been, well, romantically involved for some time. They weren't exactly dating, so Hermione had never really called him her boyfriend. Nevertheless, she loved him, or so she liked to think, and Mrs. Weasley treated her as if she were her own daughter, something Hermione loved very much.

"Morning Molly. Do you need any help?" she asked, and her mother figure shook her head.

"No, no. Well, we do need some more supplies," she said. "I didn't want to send you out, but since you're here…"

"Of course I'll do it," she said with a smile, and Molly handed her a grocery list.

"Thank you so much, Hermione," she said brightly. "Breakfast will be ready for you when you come back."

"Thanks Molly. I'll be back soon." Hermione smiled and waved, grabbing her cloak on the way out. She made sure to cover her face entirely. She wouldn't want to risk being seen.

"Oh, and by the way Hermione, happy Easter!" Molly called, and Hermione wished her the same before Disapparating to The Hogs Head.

Aberforth Dumbledore was now more of a friend to Hermione after he had saved her, Harry, and Ron from Death eaters some time ago. He had provided supplies for the Order since, and she was very grateful.

"Hello, Aberforth," she said in a small voice, making sure her face was covered.

"May I help you?" he grunted in a gruff voice.

"I want to see the fortune-teller."

His eyes narrowed at her and he nodded. This secret code between them was quite random, but it didn't reveal who she was and he understood that she was from the Order. "The camel's second hump is the largest," he replied, which was his code for, "I know who you are". She handed him a slip of paper which he pocketed, and she nodded at him.

"Good day."

"Same to you."

Hermione turned and walked out. As she was walking, however, a tall person stopped her. Someone covered in black with his cloak covering his face as well. Hermione's heart thudded with slight fear.

"Yes?" she asked in her same small voice.

"I must speak with you," the voice said firmly. It was definitely a man.

Hermione stayed silent. What should she say? "I'm afraid you must have the wrong person."

"No. I'm very sure you're the right person. I must speak with you privately." The man sounded quite adamant about speaking with her.

Hermione frowned and turned back to the bar. Aberforth was watching the two as he washed a cup. He was frowning as well.

"Very well," she said finally. It could be a civilian asking for help, or to join the Order. You just never knew. "We'll speak here."

The man nodded and she led him to the secluded corner of the room. As they sat down on the rough wooden chairs, the man stiffened.

"Now, I don't want you to tell anyone about this, okay?" he asked. Hermione frowned.

"I can't promise that."

"Okay. Don't scream when you see me then."

Hermione's frown deepened. Who was this man? He lifted his hood so that only she could see his face, and she gasped, covering her mouth. The white-blonde hair, grey eyes, and pointed face gave him away immediately.

Draco Malfoy.

"What do you want?" she demanded, still in her soft voice. "You—you Death eater!"

He covered his face again. "I know that you're a part of the Order. I've been around here everyday, watching the exchange you or any other Order members have. And I know that you're—" He looked around and motioned for her to come closer. "Hermione Granger," he whispered, and Hermione tried to stop herself from gasping. "It's the hair that gave you away."

Her damn blasted frizzy, wild brown hair! He pulled back and Hermione could swear that there was a smirk on his face. "I think you're completely wrong," she said and stood.

"No, please," he said, placing a hand over hers. She quickly snatched her hand back.

"What do you want?"

"I know that you're going to want to turn me in and blabber to all your friends, but I sincerely want to help you. My…my father and You-Know-Who have been beating down on my back lately and I don't want it anymore. I haven't wanted it since Snape killed, well, you know."

Hermione scowled at him, though he couldn't see. She sat back down to not attract attention to herself. "I know very well." She looked around and saw Aberforth still watching them with narrowed eyes.

"But why all this so suddenly?" she asked.

"I've been trying to find you for awhile."

"Me personally?"

"Yes."

"Why?" she demanded again.

"Because before this whole ordeal, I had eyes for you."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"I fancied you, and I…" He paused and she could hear him swallow before he spoke again. "I still do. You're a part of the reason why I want to help your lot now."

"When did you start to fancy me? I remember such cold incivility back when we were children," she sneered.

"Must we really do this now?" he snapped, and Hermione fell silent, glaring at him.

After a long silence, he finally spoke.

"When we were outside, fifth year," he said through clenched teeth.

The memory surprised her. It wasn't one she could remember too vividly. In fact, it was one she hadn't been very fond of anyway. "There's no way this could be happening," she said, blinking her brown eyes in shock.

"I'm sorry for all the nasty things I said and did to your…mates during our school days. However, seeing as this war calls for allies, I want to join you. Please, forget the past. I'm a changed person, really. I want to help. Just…don't tell anyone about it yet. If any of the others catch a whiff of my scent, you don't know what could happen to me if any of them are captured and you-know-who reads their minds."

Hermione nodded. "I understand," she said. "What do you have for me to prove your loyalty?"

Draco was silent. "You're just going to have to trust me." He reached for her hand and squeezed it. His fingers reached into her open sleeve and she felt a folded piece of parchment slip into it. "There's information in there. Read it first, but don't show it to anyone."

He squeezed her hand again before pulling away. "I must be going." He stood and nodded at her. "I hope you don't forget me. If this information is satisfactory to you and proves to you that I am true, then I want you to meet me here again, the same spot, in two weeks. Same day, same time."

Hermione nodded. "We should have a code."

"The sea serpents are at bay," was all he said before taking off. Hermione understood, and she looked at Aberforth again. He frowned, but she nodded, hoping that the small action would ease his concern before she slipped outside and Disapparated.

Hermione arrived back at the Burrow and took off her cloak. She made sure the parchment was concealed in her robe pocket. She would read it after breakfast. Hermione entered the delicious-smelling kitchen and met dozens of eyes. It seemed as though everyone was already there, eating breakfast, and they looked at her with concern.

"Hermione, where've you been?" Harry exclaimed. "We've been waiting for you for nearly half an hour!"

Does time really pass that fast? she wondered. "Aberforth and I were in a deep conversation," she lied. She hated lying.

"Don't get too friendly, Hermione," Mr. Weasley suddenly warned. "You can't ever be sure of your friends and enemies."

Harry nodded in agreement, and Hermione sighed. She sat down next to Ron and took a bite of her food.

"You're right." She felt Ron drop a kiss on her head and she looked up and smiled at him. Good ol' reliable Ron. Lately he seemed to understand her feelings much better. Or perhaps he was just telling her he wanted to steal a kiss later. Knowing him, it was probably the latter. But still, he was being sweet.

"Morning, 'mione," he said, and Hermione smiled again before eating her food. She could feel the parchment rustling in her pocket. She couldn't eat fast enough.

A.N. Hello everyone! I'm back! These stories just seem to follow me and I can't help but write them down. I hope you enjoy this one! I'm hoping it's not predictable like my other stories. Please review!